Inception/Mysterious Skin - Every Me and Every You (12/30)
Title: Every Me and Every You (12/30)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Fandom: Inception/Mysterious Skin fusion
Word count: 2,956
Pairing: Neil/Eames
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: language, allusions to rape,child molestation, and prostitution
Summary: Neil McCormick is fraying at the seams. Then he meets Eames, professional dreamer.
When Neil woke up that morning, Eames was already gone. He sat up in bed and stared at the empty spot on the other side, momentarily entertaining the idea that he'd dreamed it all-but there was a cut on his cheekbone and a soreness in his ass that led him to know otherwise. He stretched his arms over his head, yawned, and crawled out from under the covers, seeking out a pair of not-too-dirty boxers to slide into.
Wendy was already awake, curled up on the couch with a bowl of Fruity Pebbles, and she smiled at him when he appeared. "Hey, good morning."
Neil offered a smile back, wondering why he felt so ridiculously disappointed that Eames had left without saying goodbye. Maybe it was just because Neil wasn't used to being the one left asleep in bed, but something told him that it wasn't quite the reason.
"How'd the job go?" Wendy asked.
"We managed it," Neil shrugged, digging in the fridge until he found a couple of eggs, wandering over to the stove and turning on the eye. "We hit a little snag at one point, but nobody died-except maybe that guy I shot in the dick."
Wendy snorted into her bowl. "Are you serious?"
Neil only offered her a shit-eating grin as a response and cracked his eggs into a pan. He always liked it when he had them sunny side up, but he never quite figured out how to do it, so he scrambled them instead. He wondered if Eames knew how to cook eggs.
He'd been wondering a lot of little useless thoughts about Eames lately, and he knew it wasn't just because they'd had sex because he'd been doing it before that… It was really weird and frankly a little uncomfortable to think about, but he couldn't exactly stop it from happening. He'd just have to figure out what to do with them later, he supposed.
"So," Wendy said as Neil pushed the eggs onto a paper plate, "I saw Mr. Eames leave this morning. Where's he going?"
"Mombasa, I guess," Neil mumbled. He didn't even know where that was or if it was a real country (he'd been woefully inattentive in geography). "Did he say anything?"
"He said he'd contact you as soon as he could," Wendy shrugged. "I'm assuming you guys fucked last night then?"
"Yeah, what of it?" Neil said, not meeting her eyes, instead choosing to focus on his breakfast. He figured if he didn't deny it and also didn't make a big deal of it, she wouldn't go flying off the handle with her you like him nonsense.
"You guys were safe, right?"
Neil melodramatically rolled his eyes because he wanted to be absolutely positive she saw his reaction. "Yeah, we were. God."
"Don't act like that. You and I both know for a fact that you've tend to forget important things like that. Of course, by forget you know I mean that you choose not to do them because you're a dumbass."
Neil stopped himself before he could say something ludicrous like Eames is different. Yes, Eames was, but that didn't mean he was different in the way that Wendy would think he was. He instead shrugged and said, "Whatever," around a mouthful of eggs.
Wendy fell silent for a moment or two after that, watching Neil curiously. Then, softly, she said, "Do you think he'll come back?"
"He has to," Neil replied. "I've got his PASIV device."
Four days passed and things pretty much returned to normal. Neil went back to the sub shop and went back to being shoddily dressed, he went back to sleeping in Wendy's bed when he wanted a warm body nearby, and he didn't see or hear from Eames. The only thing that helped him remember that any of that insanity had even happened was the PASIV device still sitting in the corner of his closet.
Wendy had been fascinated to see the inside of it when he told her about it, but she was apprehensive about trying it. He figured it was probably best to just leave it as it was anyway because he figured Eames would check the levels of somnacin when he returned. If he returned.
Neil chose not to think like that too much because it just bummed him out.
That afternoon, when he got off from work, he found a large envelope with his name on it in the mailbox. It had probably been sitting there for at least a day, but he hadn't bothered to check for it. He took it upstairs with the rest of the mail, leaving the miscellaneous bills and such on the coffee table, and ripped it open.
Inside he discovered an identification card, a birth certificate, a bank card and account records, a passport, and a list of medical records among other things all for Arthur Bennett. There were already stamps on the passport even though Neil had never been to those places, and shockingly enough Eames had even put together a legitimate looking photograph of him. He wasn't sure how he managed it, but he had.
Neil stashed all of the items away in his bag and just sat there for a moment, letting the reality of the situation wash over him.
Arthur wasn't just a name he used off-chance now. Eames had made Arthur real, and now Neil knew that there was a high possibility of more work in mind crime in the future. Eames was coming through for him and things were going to change.
He'd need to really refine his skills if that were the case.
Neil spent the rest of the afternoon locked in his room and hooked up to the PASIV device, wading through his mess of a subconscious.
By the end of the week, Neil's head was spinning with possibility. He didn't know when his next jobs would come up or what they would be, but Wendy and he would spend their evenings coming up with fake ones, usually involving being captured or sold out and having to make a daring escape. He would spend any time he wasn't working or hanging out with her to actually attempt these weird fantasy heists whilst hooked up to the PASIV, teaching his mind to defend itself. In his dreams he was always Arthur rather than Neil, and his projections didn't seem intent on harming him because of it. Occasionally he'd still hear a whimpering and scratching on walls, and he almost always saw Coach amongst the crowds, and sometimes it would rain like water from a showerhead, but it was getting easier to navigate, and he was getting killed less and less often.
He took the bank card to the ATM a couple of days after the week had ended, figuring it was better to be safe than sorry. Wendy went along, curious to see how much he'd made, joking about how they were going to go out and celebrate if it was a lot. Honestly, Neil was pretty sure they were too afraid to label how much a lot was because they might get their hopes up too high. He'd only been on the job for a couple of days after all.
He slid the card in and went through the motions of checking his balance. It was all very dull, he thought, unable to help the kneejerk reaction of dislike when at the ATM because of the constant disappointment it usually provided (which was why he usually kept his money in his drawer).
The machine beeped, and Neil was pretty sure his eyes nearly fell out of his skull. "Wendy?" he called over. She was standing off to the side, lighting up a cigarette. "Wendy, come here."
"What?" she asked, already appearing to bounce with excitement. "How much is it? Like 5,000?"
"Higher," Neil said, staring at her, deadly serious.
"How much higher?" she breathed.
Neil sniffed casually and looked away and mumbled, "Ten."
"Ten… Ten-thousand?" she cried out, and he clamped a hand over her mouth.
"Yeah, and we're going to get robbed of all of it if you don't shut your trap," he hissed, but he couldn't stop the smile on his face. "Jesus fucking Christ…"
Wendy pressed her forehead to Neil's, bouncing on her toes a little. "Neil McCormick, I do believe I love you."
"Wendy Peterson, I do believe you're after my money," he teased and kissed her lightly. "We are going to have fun tonight."
They did, splurging because they could. He bought Wendy Vivienne Westwood and a tattoo, shared with her a fine bottle of wine, and hunted down a bigger, nicer apartment out of the dangerous part of town. It had lots of cool and trendy furniture already inside, a full bathroom, two large bedrooms, and a full kitchen, not to mention a fantastic view of the city. Wendy and he danced in the living room to the Smiths, drunk and gleeful, and fell asleep on each other on the couch during a horror movie marathon.
When he woke up the next morning, Wendy had left, probably to go and hire movers to get the rest of their shit from the old place to the new one, and Neil got up and wandered across the floor to the window.
He thought about the call he'd made to Eric and his promise to return to Kansas. It made him feel sick to think about it, but for once this was a promise he knew he couldn't throw out. He wondered if Wendy would come with him, if he wanted her to… He wondered if he could gather up his mother and Eric and Brian and take them as far from Hutchinson as he could. Hell, he wondered if Brian would even speak to him again. If he wouldn't speak to Eric then what chance did Neil have?
He shook his head, dismissing the thoughts for the moment, and went back to the couch, finishing off the bottle of wine to help rid him of his hangover.
He missed Eames.
Neil didn't make any ceremony of going back to Hutchinson. He explained to Wendy that he wanted to surprise his mom, and they'd talked about asking her to move in with them in New York. He hadn't asked her about Eric, but he was thinking that, should this Brian thing not work out, he should bring him along too. At least then he wouldn't have any excuse at all to go back to that place.
Neil went by himself, hopping onto a plane and sleeping for most of the flight. He hadn't been dreaming of Brighton Beach or that summer as a child, so that was good… but really it didn't seem like he'd been dreaming at all.
He wished Eames was around so that he would know if that was okay or not, but then he silently cursed himself for thinking of the man again. He seemed to go traipsing through Neil's imagination at any opportunity with his stupid, handsome face. Sure, it was nice to see Eames rather than the other things that plagued his unoccupied mind, but it didn't make things easier. He wasn't sure why Eames had had such a profound effect on him-or rather, he had an idea as to why but refused to admit to it. Neil was thinking there was a distinct possibility that Eames had braved the black hole that lived inside Neil's chest where his heart was supposed to be, and he'd come out of it alive and unscathed. Perhaps he'd even stuffed up the hole somehow.
Neil grimaced, finding that to be the dumbest thing he'd imagined so far. He tried once again not to think about Eames…
…but then he was thinking about Brian.
He hadn't heard a peep from Eric since the letter and the phone call, and while Neil could hope that meant things had worked themselves out, he doubted it would be that simple. He just hoped nothing so devastating had befallen Brian that Eric could not get up the physical strength to even call Neil to scream at him. Neil knew he would because Neil was there to blame, even if it wasn't his fault that Brian was so fucked up… He may have been there for the start of it, but he was a little boy then too and was just doing what he thought he was supposed to do.
He'd still felt so sorry that night, though… but he'd never said it to Brian. He knew it wouldn't have made any difference either way, but he still sort of wished he had now. Maybe it would have been enough. Maybe he would have been able to understand Neil's side of things. He didn't have the heart to feel real emotion most of the time, but maybe Brian would have understood what he would have felt if he could have.
The plane landed, and Neil got up from his seat, stiff and sore from sitting so long. He had to wait a while for his bag (he'd only packed one suitcase because he certainly didn't plan on staying long), but once he had it he made his way out to the street. He leaned against the wall near a payphone, lighting up a cigarette and smoking it before sliding in some quarters and dialing Eric's home number.
Eric was the one to answer this time. He still sounded downtrodden, though not as much as he had during the last phone call. "Hello?"
"Hey," Neil said, flicking his cigarette butt into the street. "I'm at the airport. Can you come pick me up?"
"What?... You're… at our airport?"
"Uh, yeah, that's why I need you to come pick me up. I told you I'd come back, didn't I?"
"Y-yeah, but, I… I didn't think you'd actually…"
"Come get me, and then we'll talk."
"Uh… okay, um… yeah, I'll be there in a little while."
Neil hung up and went back inside, hunting down the food court and buying a small bag of chips to munch on while he waited.
It didn't matter how long Neil was gone from Hutchinson, Kansas. Whenever he stepped back into its air, he felt suddenly familiar with everything. They could have torn down all of the buildings and replaced them with new ones, but the dry air always felt the same. The buildings meant nothing when compared with the flat land that stretched out underneath it for miles and miles and miles. If a tornado had blown through and killed all of the people and ripped all of the houses from their foundations, that flat land would still be there, the long grass blowing in the occasional gust of wind.
He remembered feeling so smothered by the place when he'd lived here, but found it to be welcomingly open in comparison to the clutter of New York City. He still preferred New York any day, but there was just something about Hutchinson, Kansas-something he couldn't quite put his finger on-that he missed when he wasn't there.
It was a lot like how he felt about Eames actually… Eames was everything Neil didn't really want in a man, but he felt shockingly happy when he was with him… and when he was gone, he missed him.
He wondered if he should tell his mother about Eames. That was an insane thought, he supposed, considering he'd never told his mother about any of the men he'd been with… but he had a feeling she would really like Eames, that she would think he was cool and handsome. She would probably tease Neil that she would steal him for herself if he decided not to keep him.
The thought made him smile, despite himself. He really was looking forward to seeing his mother. The last time he'd visited he wasn't quite in the state of mind to be social. He didn't like to think about that so much though, so he decided against it.
It took the entire bag of chips and two more cigarettes before Eric's clunky little Gremlin rolled up. It sounded like it was on its last legs, and Neil thought that when he got his next job, he'd buy Eric something cool and flashy to drive instead (after he bought one for himself, of course).
Eric got out of the car and Neil just took a moment to stare at him as he approached. He hadn't appeared to have dyed his hair in a while, and he wasn't wearing make-up like he usually did. He looked worn to the bone and unbearably lonely. Neil wasn't sure how he saw the loneliness on Eric's face, but he knew that was what it was, hiding in the hollows around his eyes.
"Sorry it took so long," Eric said, pulling his maroon-colored jacket more firmly around himself. "It takes a while to get this baby going, you know?"
Neil nodded and pushed himself off the wall. Eric stared at him with this somber, semi-adoring look. It was as though he couldn't decide whether to fall head-over-heels or turn on said heel and run far, far away.
"It's good to see you, Neil," Eric said. "I really didn't think you'd show up."
"Like I said before, I'm full of surprises," Neil said, offering a slightly cheeky grin before tossing his suitcase into Eric's back seat and hauling himself into the passenger seat. Once Eric was inside, blasting the heater, Neil added, "Besides… this is… important."
Eric nodded and pulled off, and Neil stared at the skyline stretched out forever in front of them.
"So…" Neil said. "Tell me."
Author: osaki_nana_707
Fandom: Inception/Mysterious Skin fusion
Word count: 2,956
Pairing: Neil/Eames
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: language, allusions to rape,child molestation, and prostitution
Summary: Neil McCormick is fraying at the seams. Then he meets Eames, professional dreamer.
When Neil woke up that morning, Eames was already gone. He sat up in bed and stared at the empty spot on the other side, momentarily entertaining the idea that he'd dreamed it all-but there was a cut on his cheekbone and a soreness in his ass that led him to know otherwise. He stretched his arms over his head, yawned, and crawled out from under the covers, seeking out a pair of not-too-dirty boxers to slide into.
Wendy was already awake, curled up on the couch with a bowl of Fruity Pebbles, and she smiled at him when he appeared. "Hey, good morning."
Neil offered a smile back, wondering why he felt so ridiculously disappointed that Eames had left without saying goodbye. Maybe it was just because Neil wasn't used to being the one left asleep in bed, but something told him that it wasn't quite the reason.
"How'd the job go?" Wendy asked.
"We managed it," Neil shrugged, digging in the fridge until he found a couple of eggs, wandering over to the stove and turning on the eye. "We hit a little snag at one point, but nobody died-except maybe that guy I shot in the dick."
Wendy snorted into her bowl. "Are you serious?"
Neil only offered her a shit-eating grin as a response and cracked his eggs into a pan. He always liked it when he had them sunny side up, but he never quite figured out how to do it, so he scrambled them instead. He wondered if Eames knew how to cook eggs.
He'd been wondering a lot of little useless thoughts about Eames lately, and he knew it wasn't just because they'd had sex because he'd been doing it before that… It was really weird and frankly a little uncomfortable to think about, but he couldn't exactly stop it from happening. He'd just have to figure out what to do with them later, he supposed.
"So," Wendy said as Neil pushed the eggs onto a paper plate, "I saw Mr. Eames leave this morning. Where's he going?"
"Mombasa, I guess," Neil mumbled. He didn't even know where that was or if it was a real country (he'd been woefully inattentive in geography). "Did he say anything?"
"He said he'd contact you as soon as he could," Wendy shrugged. "I'm assuming you guys fucked last night then?"
"Yeah, what of it?" Neil said, not meeting her eyes, instead choosing to focus on his breakfast. He figured if he didn't deny it and also didn't make a big deal of it, she wouldn't go flying off the handle with her you like him nonsense.
"You guys were safe, right?"
Neil melodramatically rolled his eyes because he wanted to be absolutely positive she saw his reaction. "Yeah, we were. God."
"Don't act like that. You and I both know for a fact that you've tend to forget important things like that. Of course, by forget you know I mean that you choose not to do them because you're a dumbass."
Neil stopped himself before he could say something ludicrous like Eames is different. Yes, Eames was, but that didn't mean he was different in the way that Wendy would think he was. He instead shrugged and said, "Whatever," around a mouthful of eggs.
Wendy fell silent for a moment or two after that, watching Neil curiously. Then, softly, she said, "Do you think he'll come back?"
"He has to," Neil replied. "I've got his PASIV device."
Four days passed and things pretty much returned to normal. Neil went back to the sub shop and went back to being shoddily dressed, he went back to sleeping in Wendy's bed when he wanted a warm body nearby, and he didn't see or hear from Eames. The only thing that helped him remember that any of that insanity had even happened was the PASIV device still sitting in the corner of his closet.
Wendy had been fascinated to see the inside of it when he told her about it, but she was apprehensive about trying it. He figured it was probably best to just leave it as it was anyway because he figured Eames would check the levels of somnacin when he returned. If he returned.
Neil chose not to think like that too much because it just bummed him out.
That afternoon, when he got off from work, he found a large envelope with his name on it in the mailbox. It had probably been sitting there for at least a day, but he hadn't bothered to check for it. He took it upstairs with the rest of the mail, leaving the miscellaneous bills and such on the coffee table, and ripped it open.
Inside he discovered an identification card, a birth certificate, a bank card and account records, a passport, and a list of medical records among other things all for Arthur Bennett. There were already stamps on the passport even though Neil had never been to those places, and shockingly enough Eames had even put together a legitimate looking photograph of him. He wasn't sure how he managed it, but he had.
Neil stashed all of the items away in his bag and just sat there for a moment, letting the reality of the situation wash over him.
Arthur wasn't just a name he used off-chance now. Eames had made Arthur real, and now Neil knew that there was a high possibility of more work in mind crime in the future. Eames was coming through for him and things were going to change.
He'd need to really refine his skills if that were the case.
Neil spent the rest of the afternoon locked in his room and hooked up to the PASIV device, wading through his mess of a subconscious.
By the end of the week, Neil's head was spinning with possibility. He didn't know when his next jobs would come up or what they would be, but Wendy and he would spend their evenings coming up with fake ones, usually involving being captured or sold out and having to make a daring escape. He would spend any time he wasn't working or hanging out with her to actually attempt these weird fantasy heists whilst hooked up to the PASIV, teaching his mind to defend itself. In his dreams he was always Arthur rather than Neil, and his projections didn't seem intent on harming him because of it. Occasionally he'd still hear a whimpering and scratching on walls, and he almost always saw Coach amongst the crowds, and sometimes it would rain like water from a showerhead, but it was getting easier to navigate, and he was getting killed less and less often.
He took the bank card to the ATM a couple of days after the week had ended, figuring it was better to be safe than sorry. Wendy went along, curious to see how much he'd made, joking about how they were going to go out and celebrate if it was a lot. Honestly, Neil was pretty sure they were too afraid to label how much a lot was because they might get their hopes up too high. He'd only been on the job for a couple of days after all.
He slid the card in and went through the motions of checking his balance. It was all very dull, he thought, unable to help the kneejerk reaction of dislike when at the ATM because of the constant disappointment it usually provided (which was why he usually kept his money in his drawer).
The machine beeped, and Neil was pretty sure his eyes nearly fell out of his skull. "Wendy?" he called over. She was standing off to the side, lighting up a cigarette. "Wendy, come here."
"What?" she asked, already appearing to bounce with excitement. "How much is it? Like 5,000?"
"Higher," Neil said, staring at her, deadly serious.
"How much higher?" she breathed.
Neil sniffed casually and looked away and mumbled, "Ten."
"Ten… Ten-thousand?" she cried out, and he clamped a hand over her mouth.
"Yeah, and we're going to get robbed of all of it if you don't shut your trap," he hissed, but he couldn't stop the smile on his face. "Jesus fucking Christ…"
Wendy pressed her forehead to Neil's, bouncing on her toes a little. "Neil McCormick, I do believe I love you."
"Wendy Peterson, I do believe you're after my money," he teased and kissed her lightly. "We are going to have fun tonight."
They did, splurging because they could. He bought Wendy Vivienne Westwood and a tattoo, shared with her a fine bottle of wine, and hunted down a bigger, nicer apartment out of the dangerous part of town. It had lots of cool and trendy furniture already inside, a full bathroom, two large bedrooms, and a full kitchen, not to mention a fantastic view of the city. Wendy and he danced in the living room to the Smiths, drunk and gleeful, and fell asleep on each other on the couch during a horror movie marathon.
When he woke up the next morning, Wendy had left, probably to go and hire movers to get the rest of their shit from the old place to the new one, and Neil got up and wandered across the floor to the window.
He thought about the call he'd made to Eric and his promise to return to Kansas. It made him feel sick to think about it, but for once this was a promise he knew he couldn't throw out. He wondered if Wendy would come with him, if he wanted her to… He wondered if he could gather up his mother and Eric and Brian and take them as far from Hutchinson as he could. Hell, he wondered if Brian would even speak to him again. If he wouldn't speak to Eric then what chance did Neil have?
He shook his head, dismissing the thoughts for the moment, and went back to the couch, finishing off the bottle of wine to help rid him of his hangover.
He missed Eames.
Neil didn't make any ceremony of going back to Hutchinson. He explained to Wendy that he wanted to surprise his mom, and they'd talked about asking her to move in with them in New York. He hadn't asked her about Eric, but he was thinking that, should this Brian thing not work out, he should bring him along too. At least then he wouldn't have any excuse at all to go back to that place.
Neil went by himself, hopping onto a plane and sleeping for most of the flight. He hadn't been dreaming of Brighton Beach or that summer as a child, so that was good… but really it didn't seem like he'd been dreaming at all.
He wished Eames was around so that he would know if that was okay or not, but then he silently cursed himself for thinking of the man again. He seemed to go traipsing through Neil's imagination at any opportunity with his stupid, handsome face. Sure, it was nice to see Eames rather than the other things that plagued his unoccupied mind, but it didn't make things easier. He wasn't sure why Eames had had such a profound effect on him-or rather, he had an idea as to why but refused to admit to it. Neil was thinking there was a distinct possibility that Eames had braved the black hole that lived inside Neil's chest where his heart was supposed to be, and he'd come out of it alive and unscathed. Perhaps he'd even stuffed up the hole somehow.
Neil grimaced, finding that to be the dumbest thing he'd imagined so far. He tried once again not to think about Eames…
…but then he was thinking about Brian.
He hadn't heard a peep from Eric since the letter and the phone call, and while Neil could hope that meant things had worked themselves out, he doubted it would be that simple. He just hoped nothing so devastating had befallen Brian that Eric could not get up the physical strength to even call Neil to scream at him. Neil knew he would because Neil was there to blame, even if it wasn't his fault that Brian was so fucked up… He may have been there for the start of it, but he was a little boy then too and was just doing what he thought he was supposed to do.
He'd still felt so sorry that night, though… but he'd never said it to Brian. He knew it wouldn't have made any difference either way, but he still sort of wished he had now. Maybe it would have been enough. Maybe he would have been able to understand Neil's side of things. He didn't have the heart to feel real emotion most of the time, but maybe Brian would have understood what he would have felt if he could have.
The plane landed, and Neil got up from his seat, stiff and sore from sitting so long. He had to wait a while for his bag (he'd only packed one suitcase because he certainly didn't plan on staying long), but once he had it he made his way out to the street. He leaned against the wall near a payphone, lighting up a cigarette and smoking it before sliding in some quarters and dialing Eric's home number.
Eric was the one to answer this time. He still sounded downtrodden, though not as much as he had during the last phone call. "Hello?"
"Hey," Neil said, flicking his cigarette butt into the street. "I'm at the airport. Can you come pick me up?"
"What?... You're… at our airport?"
"Uh, yeah, that's why I need you to come pick me up. I told you I'd come back, didn't I?"
"Y-yeah, but, I… I didn't think you'd actually…"
"Come get me, and then we'll talk."
"Uh… okay, um… yeah, I'll be there in a little while."
Neil hung up and went back inside, hunting down the food court and buying a small bag of chips to munch on while he waited.
It didn't matter how long Neil was gone from Hutchinson, Kansas. Whenever he stepped back into its air, he felt suddenly familiar with everything. They could have torn down all of the buildings and replaced them with new ones, but the dry air always felt the same. The buildings meant nothing when compared with the flat land that stretched out underneath it for miles and miles and miles. If a tornado had blown through and killed all of the people and ripped all of the houses from their foundations, that flat land would still be there, the long grass blowing in the occasional gust of wind.
He remembered feeling so smothered by the place when he'd lived here, but found it to be welcomingly open in comparison to the clutter of New York City. He still preferred New York any day, but there was just something about Hutchinson, Kansas-something he couldn't quite put his finger on-that he missed when he wasn't there.
It was a lot like how he felt about Eames actually… Eames was everything Neil didn't really want in a man, but he felt shockingly happy when he was with him… and when he was gone, he missed him.
He wondered if he should tell his mother about Eames. That was an insane thought, he supposed, considering he'd never told his mother about any of the men he'd been with… but he had a feeling she would really like Eames, that she would think he was cool and handsome. She would probably tease Neil that she would steal him for herself if he decided not to keep him.
The thought made him smile, despite himself. He really was looking forward to seeing his mother. The last time he'd visited he wasn't quite in the state of mind to be social. He didn't like to think about that so much though, so he decided against it.
It took the entire bag of chips and two more cigarettes before Eric's clunky little Gremlin rolled up. It sounded like it was on its last legs, and Neil thought that when he got his next job, he'd buy Eric something cool and flashy to drive instead (after he bought one for himself, of course).
Eric got out of the car and Neil just took a moment to stare at him as he approached. He hadn't appeared to have dyed his hair in a while, and he wasn't wearing make-up like he usually did. He looked worn to the bone and unbearably lonely. Neil wasn't sure how he saw the loneliness on Eric's face, but he knew that was what it was, hiding in the hollows around his eyes.
"Sorry it took so long," Eric said, pulling his maroon-colored jacket more firmly around himself. "It takes a while to get this baby going, you know?"
Neil nodded and pushed himself off the wall. Eric stared at him with this somber, semi-adoring look. It was as though he couldn't decide whether to fall head-over-heels or turn on said heel and run far, far away.
"It's good to see you, Neil," Eric said. "I really didn't think you'd show up."
"Like I said before, I'm full of surprises," Neil said, offering a slightly cheeky grin before tossing his suitcase into Eric's back seat and hauling himself into the passenger seat. Once Eric was inside, blasting the heater, Neil added, "Besides… this is… important."
Eric nodded and pulled off, and Neil stared at the skyline stretched out forever in front of them.
"So…" Neil said. "Tell me."