Fic: Resistance is Futile (Claude/Adam) 3/9
I considered posting this tomorrow, but since I already have it done and have that sad mood I get from time to time, I feel like posting it now.
Title; Resistance is Futile
Pairing; Claude/Adam
Summary: Fifteen years ago, Claude comes across someone he shouldn't have in the Company basement. Now, he must face him again.
Part One, Part Two
Rating: This part PG-13; the whole thing NC-17
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own words.
Fifteen years ago
“Claude?”
Someone was calling his name. It was probably the wind humming in his ear as he rode his motorcycle on this wobbly expressway stretching out into a blurry haze which glowed oddly orange. Then again, this was a dream. Maybe there was someone floating in the air next to him. He turned to look when something nudged him on the shoulder and the wind shimmered.
“Claude.”
The grey pavement scattered as he opened his eyes and saw a man standing over him, brows furrowed, face inches away, and Claude jumped, banging his head on the metal headboard.
“Ouch!”
“Are you alright?” the man, Adam, asked, stepping back even as he reached forward with his right hand, almost but not quite touching Claude’s shoulder. Rubbing the top of his head, Claude sat up, a chagrined grimace on his lips. Nice way to humiliate himself on the morning after. Night after. Whatever this was. There weren’t any windows or clocks in this place.
“Sorry,” he said. “I guess I fell asleep.”
And wasn’t he just full of brilliant observations today? His eyelids drooped over his eyes, but he forced them open, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He’d gotten enough sleep already. It was time to get up. He wondered if Adam had slept. He’d taken a shower, at least, since his hair was moist, the blonde darker. Grey sweatpants covered his legs, the same as earlier, or perhaps they were just an identical pair. Claude suspected that the Company dressed him in matching clothes, white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, one for every day of the week like in a prison, but he didn’t want to ask. It might make Adam uncomfortable if he rubbed it in his face and he didn’t want that. Though it might be a little late for that by the way Adam was staring yet not staring at him, eyes skimming over and around Claude’s body as a puzzled expression weighed on his face.
“Did you sit up?” Adam asked. “Because I can’t see you.”
Oh. Right.
“Sorry,” Claude said, quickly turning visible. At least this guy hadn’t freaked out and called the cops. “That happens sometimes. The bed didn’t disappear, did it?”
“No.”
Claude stifled a relieved breath.
“Oh, good. I just wanted to make sure. Wouldn’t want you to have been lying on a bed you couldn’t see.”
Adam’s lips quirked upwards, eyes lightening in wonder.
“You can also make objects invisible? That’s quite a talent.”
“Only those that I’m touching. And I have to concentrate. It’s not automatic.”
Adam crossed his arms, tilting his head in contemplation. “So you could, for example, disappear your body but not your clothes?”
“Sure can. I’ll show you.”
He stood up, but soon realized that he was completely naked.
“As soon as I actually have clothes on,” he finished, feeling lame.
Adam smiled. It was a very comforting smile, almost practiced. “I put your clothes on the table. You can use the shower if you want.”
“That’s okay. I’ll shower when I get home.”
Claude quickly put on his clothes, casting little side glances in Adam’s direction as he did so, barely containing his grin at the desire that still lingered in Adam’s eyes. Nice to see that. He didn’t get it often. Maybe there was time for a quickie. But aside from that stare, Adam didn’t make any overtures, just stood a few feet away, his pose as casual as it ould be. Oh, well. Tightening his belt buckle, Claude went to stand directly in front of Adam and concentrated, making his body disappear while his clothes remained hanging in midair. Now Adam looked shocked, brows rising, lips parted in such a lovely gape. Claude grinned. That reaction never got old. He almost wished he could photograph it, but then again, a two dimensional image couldn’t contain the essence of the moment, alive and exhilarating only because it was so finite, vanishing in the next second. Adam approached him, inspecting his clothes with both eyes and hands, circling around him to scrutinize every angle, hands sweeping over his shirt and jacket in a light caress and Claude wished he were still nude. Damn, was he horny. But no one had looked at him this way before, with awe, not fear, yearning, not rejection. A stray finger brushed over Claude’s collarbone and he gasped, swallowing it before Adam could hear. A man could get high on this. All those hours spent in front of the mirror, disappearing first his shirt, then his trousers, letting some clothes remain visible, others not, had paid off.
“I can see the inside of your shirt,” Adam said, his face so close to Claude’s that he happily inhaled the warmth of his breath.
“I can do more than that.”
Claude grabbed Adam’s arm, making him invisible as well, and now Adam was the one gasping and Claude had never heard a more thrilling sound.
“I can’t see myself.”
Adam raised his other arm, turning it, then twisted around to look or rather try to look at his whole body, and Claude squeezed his mouth shut to contain the laugh bubbling in his throat. Adam’s whole face was lit up with amazement and delight, such an enticing smile widening on his mouth. Claude almost kissed him.
“This is amazing,” Adam breathed. “I’ve never experienced anything like it.”
“Thanks. I have a lot of fun with it.”
“I bet you do.”
A suggestion gleamed in Adam’s eyes. Interesting. Claude couldn’t wait to try that one. It’d always been a favorite fantasy of his, but he’d never come across anyone who he could share his secret with. He was perfectly willing to have a go at it now, but Adam pulled back, prompting Claude to let go of his arm. Later, then. Claude thrust his hands in his jacket pockets, trying to push away the alluring images already flickering in his brain..
“I guess I’ll be going, then,” he said.
Adam nodded, disappointment darkening in the corners of his eyes.
“Will you be coming back?”
“Definitely,” Claude grinned reassuringly. “Tomorrow morning, if you want.”
Adam returned his smile.
“Good. I greatly enjoyed your company today.”
“You and me both.”
They kissed and Claude slid his hand around Adam’s nape, loving the feel of his wet hair on his fingers almost as much as his warm mouth.
“I’ll be seeing you,” Adam murmured as he pulled back.
“Count on it.”
||||
Expressway. Nothing but boring expressway for miles on end. And billboards. Always the garish, mind numbing billboards littering the landscape of this country. Claude glanced at them from the corner of his eye, the ones to the left side anyway, not the ones to the right. Looking that way increased the chances of making eye contact with the man sitting next to him and he wasn’t having any of that. Of course, just being in the same car with him, driving to some unknown destination of Adam’s choosing was already asking for the kiss of death. “North”, Adam said when Claude jokingly asked him if he preferred any particular direction for their little road trip away from the Company’s grasping claws. The irony that he’d broken his hermitage to wander around with the Company’s Most Wanted rang in his head like a tornado siren, but he endeavored to ignore it like all the other warning bells blaring in his brain. He never intended to follow Adam’s instructions, knowing it was all part of some egotistic scheme, probably the same one as thirty years before, but he’d already stepped waist-deep in quicksand. What the hell? So with a self-deprecating “Why the hell not?”, he snatched the car keys out of some poor sap’s pocket in a store, went fishing for it in the car park (those beeping things were brilliant), and got behind the wheel of a brand new Matrix. That was his one condition. Claude was driving. No shifts, no one person driving while the other slept, though Adam could sleep if he wanted to. It cut down on the annoyance. When Claude got tired, they would stop. No exceptions. He wasn’t going to give Adam the chance to run wild and bring about the apocalypse because Claude let his guard down. He’d already made that mistake once and wasn’t about to do it again.
“It’s very quiet in here.”
Not that Adam was going to make it any easier on him by staying quiet. Of course not.
“Turn the radio on.”
“I’d rather talk to you.”
“I’d rather not.”
Claude reached for the radio dial, pressing it, and some saccharine, popish tune came on. Both he and Adam grimaced and he quickly turned the knob, drowning the sorry excuse for a song in static.
“Is that what this decade’s music sounds like?” Adam asked.
“Unfortunately.”
“It’ll take some getting used to.”
Claude’s hand stilled meditation, two different songs crackling against each other.
“Get used to? Wouldn’t that require allowing the musicians to live?”
“I didn’t say I was going to release the virus.”
“But you didn’t say you wouldn’t.”
Claude felt the weight of Adam’s gaze on him, but kept his eyes fixed on the road.
“Fine.”
Claude continued turning the dial, finally landing across an old Rolling Stones tune.
“I know this song,” Adam said, sounding surprised.
“Oldies station. They got all the old classics. CCR, the Beatles, the Doors. Those probably sound new to you.”
“Glenn Miller sounds new to me. The world is filled with nothing but new things mounted on old ideas.”
“What’s that now? Your philosophy on life?”
“No. Just an observation.”
“I’m not interested in your observations.”
“You used to be. You used to like talking to me.”
It wasn’t the talking Claude had been most interested in, but Adam wasn’t wrong. This man had lived through the Industrial Revolution, the Napoleonic Wars, the first telegraph, stuff Claude could only see in the History Channel. He hadn’t been about to miss that opportunity.
“Well,” Claude said, “you neglected to mention a crucial detail.”
Adam sighed, just like a put out child. Poor baby. Life must be so difficult when you’re a psychotic megalomaniac.
“Are you going to keep harping on about that the whole week?”
“By harping on you mean reminding you why it’d be completely stupid for anyone to trust you?”
“You don’t trust anyone.”
“Wonder why?”
“You trusted your friend.”
Fuck. Why did he have to bring that up?
“I’m not talking about this with you.”
“Why not?”
The words ground harshly in Adam’s mouth. Did he detect a hint of annoyance? Good. A frustrated Adam was easier to read than a calm, collected one.
“Didn’t we just go over this?”
“I told you what my friend did to me.”
“What do want us to do? Bond? I don’t do bonding, especially with people like you.”
“Why are you so afraid of talking about it?”
Claude’s hands tightened on the wheel, his foot pressing so hard on the accelerator that he jumped from 63 to 70, nearly crashing into the car in front of him. Damn him, damn him, damn him!
“I’m not afraid. I just don’t like it.”
“Fine. Suit yourself. But it won’t do you any good.”
“It’s worked pretty well so far.”
“No, it hasn’t. You just tell yourself that to keep from going mad.”
Claude shook off the words, refusing to listen, but part of him recognized the truth, embedded deep in his subconscious. A thought, chanted over and over again, ugly and twisted but the only thing he had and if he didn’t cling to it, gripping it with the last skin of his nails, he would fall and never be able to pick himself up again. He blinked, the road in front of him suddenly growing murky even though the sun shone no less. He needed a break. Four hours driving, five since his last meal, and Adam... Adam as irritating as always. He glanced at the green exit sign coming up on the right, which announced that the next exit was a mile and a half away. Never mind where it ended up. It didn’t matter. He just needed to get out of this car and run and breathe and not think. He turned onto the rightmost lane, which was thankfully bare, and floored the gas.
“Claude?”
“Do me a favor. Don’t talk to me for a while, okay?”
For once, Adam was silent.
Part Four
Title; Resistance is Futile
Pairing; Claude/Adam
Summary: Fifteen years ago, Claude comes across someone he shouldn't have in the Company basement. Now, he must face him again.
Part One, Part Two
Rating: This part PG-13; the whole thing NC-17
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own words.
Fifteen years ago
“Claude?”
Someone was calling his name. It was probably the wind humming in his ear as he rode his motorcycle on this wobbly expressway stretching out into a blurry haze which glowed oddly orange. Then again, this was a dream. Maybe there was someone floating in the air next to him. He turned to look when something nudged him on the shoulder and the wind shimmered.
“Claude.”
The grey pavement scattered as he opened his eyes and saw a man standing over him, brows furrowed, face inches away, and Claude jumped, banging his head on the metal headboard.
“Ouch!”
“Are you alright?” the man, Adam, asked, stepping back even as he reached forward with his right hand, almost but not quite touching Claude’s shoulder. Rubbing the top of his head, Claude sat up, a chagrined grimace on his lips. Nice way to humiliate himself on the morning after. Night after. Whatever this was. There weren’t any windows or clocks in this place.
“Sorry,” he said. “I guess I fell asleep.”
And wasn’t he just full of brilliant observations today? His eyelids drooped over his eyes, but he forced them open, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He’d gotten enough sleep already. It was time to get up. He wondered if Adam had slept. He’d taken a shower, at least, since his hair was moist, the blonde darker. Grey sweatpants covered his legs, the same as earlier, or perhaps they were just an identical pair. Claude suspected that the Company dressed him in matching clothes, white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, one for every day of the week like in a prison, but he didn’t want to ask. It might make Adam uncomfortable if he rubbed it in his face and he didn’t want that. Though it might be a little late for that by the way Adam was staring yet not staring at him, eyes skimming over and around Claude’s body as a puzzled expression weighed on his face.
“Did you sit up?” Adam asked. “Because I can’t see you.”
Oh. Right.
“Sorry,” Claude said, quickly turning visible. At least this guy hadn’t freaked out and called the cops. “That happens sometimes. The bed didn’t disappear, did it?”
“No.”
Claude stifled a relieved breath.
“Oh, good. I just wanted to make sure. Wouldn’t want you to have been lying on a bed you couldn’t see.”
Adam’s lips quirked upwards, eyes lightening in wonder.
“You can also make objects invisible? That’s quite a talent.”
“Only those that I’m touching. And I have to concentrate. It’s not automatic.”
Adam crossed his arms, tilting his head in contemplation. “So you could, for example, disappear your body but not your clothes?”
“Sure can. I’ll show you.”
He stood up, but soon realized that he was completely naked.
“As soon as I actually have clothes on,” he finished, feeling lame.
Adam smiled. It was a very comforting smile, almost practiced. “I put your clothes on the table. You can use the shower if you want.”
“That’s okay. I’ll shower when I get home.”
Claude quickly put on his clothes, casting little side glances in Adam’s direction as he did so, barely containing his grin at the desire that still lingered in Adam’s eyes. Nice to see that. He didn’t get it often. Maybe there was time for a quickie. But aside from that stare, Adam didn’t make any overtures, just stood a few feet away, his pose as casual as it ould be. Oh, well. Tightening his belt buckle, Claude went to stand directly in front of Adam and concentrated, making his body disappear while his clothes remained hanging in midair. Now Adam looked shocked, brows rising, lips parted in such a lovely gape. Claude grinned. That reaction never got old. He almost wished he could photograph it, but then again, a two dimensional image couldn’t contain the essence of the moment, alive and exhilarating only because it was so finite, vanishing in the next second. Adam approached him, inspecting his clothes with both eyes and hands, circling around him to scrutinize every angle, hands sweeping over his shirt and jacket in a light caress and Claude wished he were still nude. Damn, was he horny. But no one had looked at him this way before, with awe, not fear, yearning, not rejection. A stray finger brushed over Claude’s collarbone and he gasped, swallowing it before Adam could hear. A man could get high on this. All those hours spent in front of the mirror, disappearing first his shirt, then his trousers, letting some clothes remain visible, others not, had paid off.
“I can see the inside of your shirt,” Adam said, his face so close to Claude’s that he happily inhaled the warmth of his breath.
“I can do more than that.”
Claude grabbed Adam’s arm, making him invisible as well, and now Adam was the one gasping and Claude had never heard a more thrilling sound.
“I can’t see myself.”
Adam raised his other arm, turning it, then twisted around to look or rather try to look at his whole body, and Claude squeezed his mouth shut to contain the laugh bubbling in his throat. Adam’s whole face was lit up with amazement and delight, such an enticing smile widening on his mouth. Claude almost kissed him.
“This is amazing,” Adam breathed. “I’ve never experienced anything like it.”
“Thanks. I have a lot of fun with it.”
“I bet you do.”
A suggestion gleamed in Adam’s eyes. Interesting. Claude couldn’t wait to try that one. It’d always been a favorite fantasy of his, but he’d never come across anyone who he could share his secret with. He was perfectly willing to have a go at it now, but Adam pulled back, prompting Claude to let go of his arm. Later, then. Claude thrust his hands in his jacket pockets, trying to push away the alluring images already flickering in his brain..
“I guess I’ll be going, then,” he said.
Adam nodded, disappointment darkening in the corners of his eyes.
“Will you be coming back?”
“Definitely,” Claude grinned reassuringly. “Tomorrow morning, if you want.”
Adam returned his smile.
“Good. I greatly enjoyed your company today.”
“You and me both.”
They kissed and Claude slid his hand around Adam’s nape, loving the feel of his wet hair on his fingers almost as much as his warm mouth.
“I’ll be seeing you,” Adam murmured as he pulled back.
“Count on it.”
||||
Expressway. Nothing but boring expressway for miles on end. And billboards. Always the garish, mind numbing billboards littering the landscape of this country. Claude glanced at them from the corner of his eye, the ones to the left side anyway, not the ones to the right. Looking that way increased the chances of making eye contact with the man sitting next to him and he wasn’t having any of that. Of course, just being in the same car with him, driving to some unknown destination of Adam’s choosing was already asking for the kiss of death. “North”, Adam said when Claude jokingly asked him if he preferred any particular direction for their little road trip away from the Company’s grasping claws. The irony that he’d broken his hermitage to wander around with the Company’s Most Wanted rang in his head like a tornado siren, but he endeavored to ignore it like all the other warning bells blaring in his brain. He never intended to follow Adam’s instructions, knowing it was all part of some egotistic scheme, probably the same one as thirty years before, but he’d already stepped waist-deep in quicksand. What the hell? So with a self-deprecating “Why the hell not?”, he snatched the car keys out of some poor sap’s pocket in a store, went fishing for it in the car park (those beeping things were brilliant), and got behind the wheel of a brand new Matrix. That was his one condition. Claude was driving. No shifts, no one person driving while the other slept, though Adam could sleep if he wanted to. It cut down on the annoyance. When Claude got tired, they would stop. No exceptions. He wasn’t going to give Adam the chance to run wild and bring about the apocalypse because Claude let his guard down. He’d already made that mistake once and wasn’t about to do it again.
“It’s very quiet in here.”
Not that Adam was going to make it any easier on him by staying quiet. Of course not.
“Turn the radio on.”
“I’d rather talk to you.”
“I’d rather not.”
Claude reached for the radio dial, pressing it, and some saccharine, popish tune came on. Both he and Adam grimaced and he quickly turned the knob, drowning the sorry excuse for a song in static.
“Is that what this decade’s music sounds like?” Adam asked.
“Unfortunately.”
“It’ll take some getting used to.”
Claude’s hand stilled meditation, two different songs crackling against each other.
“Get used to? Wouldn’t that require allowing the musicians to live?”
“I didn’t say I was going to release the virus.”
“But you didn’t say you wouldn’t.”
Claude felt the weight of Adam’s gaze on him, but kept his eyes fixed on the road.
“Fine.”
Claude continued turning the dial, finally landing across an old Rolling Stones tune.
“I know this song,” Adam said, sounding surprised.
“Oldies station. They got all the old classics. CCR, the Beatles, the Doors. Those probably sound new to you.”
“Glenn Miller sounds new to me. The world is filled with nothing but new things mounted on old ideas.”
“What’s that now? Your philosophy on life?”
“No. Just an observation.”
“I’m not interested in your observations.”
“You used to be. You used to like talking to me.”
It wasn’t the talking Claude had been most interested in, but Adam wasn’t wrong. This man had lived through the Industrial Revolution, the Napoleonic Wars, the first telegraph, stuff Claude could only see in the History Channel. He hadn’t been about to miss that opportunity.
“Well,” Claude said, “you neglected to mention a crucial detail.”
Adam sighed, just like a put out child. Poor baby. Life must be so difficult when you’re a psychotic megalomaniac.
“Are you going to keep harping on about that the whole week?”
“By harping on you mean reminding you why it’d be completely stupid for anyone to trust you?”
“You don’t trust anyone.”
“Wonder why?”
“You trusted your friend.”
Fuck. Why did he have to bring that up?
“I’m not talking about this with you.”
“Why not?”
The words ground harshly in Adam’s mouth. Did he detect a hint of annoyance? Good. A frustrated Adam was easier to read than a calm, collected one.
“Didn’t we just go over this?”
“I told you what my friend did to me.”
“What do want us to do? Bond? I don’t do bonding, especially with people like you.”
“Why are you so afraid of talking about it?”
Claude’s hands tightened on the wheel, his foot pressing so hard on the accelerator that he jumped from 63 to 70, nearly crashing into the car in front of him. Damn him, damn him, damn him!
“I’m not afraid. I just don’t like it.”
“Fine. Suit yourself. But it won’t do you any good.”
“It’s worked pretty well so far.”
“No, it hasn’t. You just tell yourself that to keep from going mad.”
Claude shook off the words, refusing to listen, but part of him recognized the truth, embedded deep in his subconscious. A thought, chanted over and over again, ugly and twisted but the only thing he had and if he didn’t cling to it, gripping it with the last skin of his nails, he would fall and never be able to pick himself up again. He blinked, the road in front of him suddenly growing murky even though the sun shone no less. He needed a break. Four hours driving, five since his last meal, and Adam... Adam as irritating as always. He glanced at the green exit sign coming up on the right, which announced that the next exit was a mile and a half away. Never mind where it ended up. It didn’t matter. He just needed to get out of this car and run and breathe and not think. He turned onto the rightmost lane, which was thankfully bare, and floored the gas.
“Claude?”
“Do me a favor. Don’t talk to me for a while, okay?”
For once, Adam was silent.
Part Four