igrab
in
the_grrrrid
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author. igrab
pairing. Flynn/Alan
wordcount. 862
summary. There's no basis for comparison; re-integration isn't exactly what they'd thought.
".....Alan."
The sound echoes, and for a moment, Alan doesn't even think it's real - not when he's heard that voice so many times before, in his dreams, as he's falling asleep. He watches Sam drive off on his motorcycle with a strange girl, thinking only Oh, Sam, and then he hears it again.
"Alan."
The voice isn't the same. Not exactly. It's more gravelly, tired, it's older.
Alan turns around and looks back into the arcade, and when he speaks, his own voice cracks open.
"Flynn?"
There's a man, leaning against the Space Paranoids machine. He's old, he's wearing a black hapi coat, he's practically dead on his feet and he's so, so beautiful.
He tries to step forward and his legs won't hold him; Alan rushes forward to slide an arm around his waist in support. "Flynn," he mutters again, just because he can. He's here. Alan's eyes are tearing up, he can't help it, he pulls his glasses off and wipes at them before his vision's completely shot. He chuckles.
"Hey man, don't cry. It's all right, I'm here, it's fine."
Alan loses it then - just loses his shit and tears start pouring down his face, because shit, shit, it really is him, he isn't dreaming. You were right, about everything, Sam's voice echoes back at him, and Alan finally understands what it means.
"Of course I'm crying. I haven't seen you for..." he actually does have to think about it, which isn't very romantic, but hasn't been keeping track. "...Twenty years. Give or take. How - "
"Not now." Flynn turns his head and presses a whiskery, warm kiss to the side of Alan's head. "Take me home. That's all I want. Alan. I just want to go home."
+
They get to his house and Flynn starts laughing in his ear, as Alan supports him all the way to the door. "Still the same," he mutters, and Alan shrugs, fumbling for the keys.
"Yeah," he mutters. He's stopped crying, but a smile has grown in its place and seems to be a permanent attachment. "I haven't been one for moving on."
The door swings open. Flynn smiles. "I'm glad."
They make their way to the living room - Flynn's as weak as a kitten, and Alan doesn't even want to see if he can tackle stairs - no matter how lonely his bed has been. He helps him onto the well-worn sofa, a victim of Sam's serial crashlanding, and finds a blanket and pillow to tuck him in.
He almost leaves, but Flynn reaches out before he can even think about it, grips Alan's hands tight within his own. "You're here," he mutters, like it's the first time he's really realizing it.
"Yeah."
"We're home."
"Yeah." Alan's eyes are tearing up again.
Flynn breathes a long, drawn-out sigh of relief, and lets his head rest back against the pillows. Thank god, he's mouthing, soundless. Thank all the gods in the world.
+
When Flynn wakes up, Alan's making breakfast.
He goes into the kitchen and leans on the doorframe. It takes Alan a minute to notice that he isn't alone, and when he does, the most beautiful smile spreads over his face. Flynn is utterly enchanted.
"Hey, gorgeous," he says, and Alan actually flushes - just lightly, over the tops of his cheekbones.
"Hotshot," he all but whispers, and Flynn feels his knees go weak.
As they sit at the kitchen table, they finally get around to really being able to talk.
"Sam doesn't know, does he," Alan starts, his voice carefully neutral.
Flyn stills for a long moment, then shakes his head. "No. He thinks I - " he stops, cuts himself off, then clears his throat and shakes his head again. "We'll let him know, soon. I wanted to see you first."
Alan looks doubtful, but the compliment does melt him a little, and he smiles ruefully. "I've missed you," he says.
Flynn feels his throat go tight. Guilt. "Yeah," he works out, "me too. More than I - "
They both trail off and just look at each other. Judging. Assessing.
Alan is the first to relax, looking down and that smile slowly growing on his face again. "I just have one question," he murmurs.
Flynn tilts his head back, stares up at the ceiling. "You want to know what happened."
"No, not that." Alan looks up and Flynn looks down - their eyes meet, and it's familiar, warm, with that heady spark of something more that Flynn hasn't seen in years. "All I want to know is if you're back for good this time."
His face breaks; he smiles ear to ear, and ducks his head to vainly hide the tears that form.
"Yes," he says.
"Yes. I'm not going anywhere any longer."
pairing. Flynn/Alan
wordcount. 862
summary. There's no basis for comparison; re-integration isn't exactly what they'd thought.
".....Alan."
The sound echoes, and for a moment, Alan doesn't even think it's real - not when he's heard that voice so many times before, in his dreams, as he's falling asleep. He watches Sam drive off on his motorcycle with a strange girl, thinking only Oh, Sam, and then he hears it again.
"Alan."
The voice isn't the same. Not exactly. It's more gravelly, tired, it's older.
Alan turns around and looks back into the arcade, and when he speaks, his own voice cracks open.
"Flynn?"
There's a man, leaning against the Space Paranoids machine. He's old, he's wearing a black hapi coat, he's practically dead on his feet and he's so, so beautiful.
He tries to step forward and his legs won't hold him; Alan rushes forward to slide an arm around his waist in support. "Flynn," he mutters again, just because he can. He's here. Alan's eyes are tearing up, he can't help it, he pulls his glasses off and wipes at them before his vision's completely shot. He chuckles.
"Hey man, don't cry. It's all right, I'm here, it's fine."
Alan loses it then - just loses his shit and tears start pouring down his face, because shit, shit, it really is him, he isn't dreaming. You were right, about everything, Sam's voice echoes back at him, and Alan finally understands what it means.
"Of course I'm crying. I haven't seen you for..." he actually does have to think about it, which isn't very romantic, but hasn't been keeping track. "...Twenty years. Give or take. How - "
"Not now." Flynn turns his head and presses a whiskery, warm kiss to the side of Alan's head. "Take me home. That's all I want. Alan. I just want to go home."
+
They get to his house and Flynn starts laughing in his ear, as Alan supports him all the way to the door. "Still the same," he mutters, and Alan shrugs, fumbling for the keys.
"Yeah," he mutters. He's stopped crying, but a smile has grown in its place and seems to be a permanent attachment. "I haven't been one for moving on."
The door swings open. Flynn smiles. "I'm glad."
They make their way to the living room - Flynn's as weak as a kitten, and Alan doesn't even want to see if he can tackle stairs - no matter how lonely his bed has been. He helps him onto the well-worn sofa, a victim of Sam's serial crashlanding, and finds a blanket and pillow to tuck him in.
He almost leaves, but Flynn reaches out before he can even think about it, grips Alan's hands tight within his own. "You're here," he mutters, like it's the first time he's really realizing it.
"Yeah."
"We're home."
"Yeah." Alan's eyes are tearing up again.
Flynn breathes a long, drawn-out sigh of relief, and lets his head rest back against the pillows. Thank god, he's mouthing, soundless. Thank all the gods in the world.
+
When Flynn wakes up, Alan's making breakfast.
He goes into the kitchen and leans on the doorframe. It takes Alan a minute to notice that he isn't alone, and when he does, the most beautiful smile spreads over his face. Flynn is utterly enchanted.
"Hey, gorgeous," he says, and Alan actually flushes - just lightly, over the tops of his cheekbones.
"Hotshot," he all but whispers, and Flynn feels his knees go weak.
As they sit at the kitchen table, they finally get around to really being able to talk.
"Sam doesn't know, does he," Alan starts, his voice carefully neutral.
Flyn stills for a long moment, then shakes his head. "No. He thinks I - " he stops, cuts himself off, then clears his throat and shakes his head again. "We'll let him know, soon. I wanted to see you first."
Alan looks doubtful, but the compliment does melt him a little, and he smiles ruefully. "I've missed you," he says.
Flynn feels his throat go tight. Guilt. "Yeah," he works out, "me too. More than I - "
They both trail off and just look at each other. Judging. Assessing.
Alan is the first to relax, looking down and that smile slowly growing on his face again. "I just have one question," he murmurs.
Flynn tilts his head back, stares up at the ceiling. "You want to know what happened."
"No, not that." Alan looks up and Flynn looks down - their eyes meet, and it's familiar, warm, with that heady spark of something more that Flynn hasn't seen in years. "All I want to know is if you're back for good this time."
His face breaks; he smiles ear to ear, and ducks his head to vainly hide the tears that form.
"Yes," he says.
"Yes. I'm not going anywhere any longer."