Who: Hunter and Zee. What: Sad!Hunter and Kleenex!Zee. Where: Zee's studio. When: Backdated to after Hunter learns of Maren's death, but fuzzy. Warnings/Rating: Grief.
The notes from Hunter in the journal had been strange, unexpected. Zee started at them as he tried to rub sleep out of one of his eyes, but there was nothing more after he’d told Hunter to ring the bell when he arrived. Not knowing how far away he was, Zee signed and pushed himself reluctantly out of bed. More accurately, off the slightly lumpy futon that he’d bought when he’d arrived in town. He didn’t mind staying in mostly unfurnished studio apartments, but he wasn’t going to take someone’s second-hand mattress, nor subject himself to sleeping directly on the floor.
Folding the futon back up into his makeshift couch, he tried to figure out how exactly they were going to manage two adults, one of whom was still angry at the other, and ball of fluff masquerading as a dog in the small space. He kept it mostly tidy just due to the need to keep himself from tripping over things, but he did another circle to pick a few things up as he dressed and got ready for Hunter to arrive. Another few minutes found the coffee maker brewing (another essential, no matter where he was living) and Zee brushing his teeth in the tiny bathroom.
Hunter was not himself after the strange phone call that informed him of his sister’s death. At first he couldn’t believe it, but the voice had been calm and insistent, but also strangely upset, as if the situation was just as impossible as Hunter thought it was, but yet had happened, all the same. The idea that anyone would want to hurt Maren was impossible to Hunter, he had always seen her as so small and foolish, yet down deep he had known her disappearance wasn’t right. If Maren was going to really disappear, Hunter thought she would just do it, like they all had, if only for revenge. Yet there was this whole business with the note, and it sounded an awful lot like something she would use not for revenge, but to say goodbye. It just sounded like death to him. The phone call just confirmed what he hadn’t wanted to consider.
Too agitated to really care on what terms he had parted with Zee, Hunter just wanted someone he trusted to let him use a roof. He was scared of the man on the phone, of this anonymous person that had killed Maren, but he wanted revenge, too. He wanted to hurt them, and he just needed somewhere safe to be while he figured out what and how. When he left Blake’s place for the last time, he brought the collie with him, because the collie was always with him, and a bag that only had more shirts and jeans like the ones he was wearing. All that moving meant only his truck was a constant, and even then he wasn’t sure how much longer the old girl would last.
Commanding the collie to sit--she was coming along in the training department--Hunter got a better grip on the duffle bag and hammered a little harder than he meant to at Zee’s door.
The knock was sudden and louder than Zee expected. He didn't usually get people knocking at his door, and even knowing Hunter was on his way, he jumped a bit at the noise. He crossed the space in a few long-limbed strides and answered the door with his toothbrush still in his mouth, foam gathered around the handle of the brush where it was tucked in his cheek. His eyes warmed, seeing Hunter standing there with the dog at his feet, and he gestured them in without saying anything, heading back toward the bathroom to finish brushing. He left the door open to his guests, figuring Hunter would know to come inside with his things.
Zee's own nomadic lifestyle was what kept the studio apartment fairly empty, but there were still hints of personality here and there. Mainly the clothes draped over surfaces and peeking out of the laundry bag in the corner. But there were other things, too. Subtle things. A few mugs on the kitchen counter from different places across the country, the kind found only in cheesy roadside attraction gift shops. A few blank journals (not ones that held other people's words) full of color and designs and doodles. Plastic storage bins in the corner that held any number of miscellaneous things that Zee had deemed worthy of keeping. The only furniture was cheap and recently purchased: the futon, a folding table with a few chairs near the kitchen, a beat-up old television. It wasn't a permanent home, and it looked like it.
Hunter didn’t have time to take Zee in, he was in too much of a hurry to get off the front step and out of the open air. His eyes were a little crazed, and his hair was both flat and sticking up in a way that told in no uncertain terms that he’d simply rolled out of bed with it that way. Considering the bag was in his hand, it didn’t look likely he was just here for a temporary visit, even if he’d only said he needed a couch for the night. Hunter came all the way in, brought the dog in likewise and made her sit her butt down without running around to sniff every single thing, then shut the door firmly behind him. Then he locked it.
Thumping into the center of the room, he spared a glance sideways to watch Zee’s back as it turned the corner to the bathroom, and then took his eyes around the studio. Being at Blake’s had spoiled him; this place looked small in comparison, but it felt a little safer. Maybe it was just it being familiar, nothing here he could break. Hunter sat heavily on the futon and put his head in his hands, pushing fingers into his closed eyelids and trying to figure out what had happened.
Zee was already back across the apartment, spitting toothpaste into the bathroom sink, by the time Hunter closed and locked the front door. He could hear the commands for the dog, wondered how successful they actually were, but wasn’t overly concerned if she ended up exploring the small space. There wasn’t much to wreck, even if she started chewing.
Emerging again from the tiny bathroom, Zee looked over at where Hunter sat on the futon and knew immediately that he’d been right about something being wrong. Moreso than the strange half-truce that he and Hunter seemed to be working with. He was fairly certain that it had to be something big that had brought him here, looking for a place to stay even if it was just one night. Instead of asking questions and demanding answers, he crossed to the kitchen, lining up two mugs on the counter and pouring coffee into each. A quick thought reminded him that he hadn’t picked up any milk the day before, so he brought the coffee black over to the futon. He sat down in a sprawl of limbs and nudged Hunter’s arm with one of the warm mugs.
As he did not fall victim to the macho need for cowboy black coffee, Hunter liked sweet things, sweet coffee, sweet candy, and sweet people. He was not a sweet person himself, but he liked the softness because it made him feel safe. Not that he would ever admit it. He took Zee’s coffee and even though the sweat had not yet dried from the back of his neck, he took the mug and wrapped his long fingers around it. The green paint was already starting to chip. “Thanks.” The word seemed to encompass everything from his presence on Zee’s couch to the mug in his hand. The puppy finished a full circuit of the room and then settled between Hunters knees to stare expectantly up at him, waiting for some mysterious canine reaction that never came.
Zee took a drink from his own mug, watching Hunter closely, taking note of his posture, the way his shirt stretched over his shoulders, the chipping green color. He wanted to ask questions, but wasn’t sure how much he could push before Hunter would push back and end up heading back through the door. Maybe once he would have known how far he could pry, but not any more. “You’re welcome,” he ended up saying, at a loss for anything else, and then reached over to hook a hand under the small dog, managing to lift it the short way to the futon to sit between them, settling her to lay down with a gentle pressure of his hand along her back.
Hunter looked down at his coffee without drinking any of it. The dog seemed pleased to be able to spread fluff in all directions, rolling around between the two of them and then snuggling onto her back so all four paws were in the air. Hunter took some of the hunch out of his back and leaned back into the taco fold of the futon. “...Got a phone call this mornin’,” he said, abbreviating his speech as much as possible. “About my sister. Little one that liked books. Maybe you don’t remember.” He glanced over his shoulder. It wasn’t like Zee had really met any of Hunter’s family, mom too drugged, step-father too angry, brother too busy, one sister wild and the other in her books.
Zee buried fingers in the soft fur of the dog’s belly, mug held carefully in his opposite hand. He leaned back when Hunter did, angling his shoulders in his direction to give him all his attention. “I remember you talking about her sometimes. Said she was always reading...” Zee kept his voice soft, still trying to navigate Hunter’s mood and possible anger.
“That’s her.” Hunter suspected that he had not been complimentary about Maren to Zee. He had not thought complimentary things, and he had no one to talk to back then except his animals and, later, Zee. Though not for as long as he might have liked. He felt bad about that, but Maren’s death had not changed his mind, and his grief didn’t blind him to the things he had not liked about her any more than the things he had. He would--did--miss her, though. He had even missed her when he’d left the first time. “This guy on the phone, wouldn’t say who he was. Said somebody killed her.”
The statement hung between them, Zee’s eyes widening slightly as he stared at Hunter. “...Fuck.” It came out shocked and quiet, and the hand that was petting the dog went still on her fur. “Shit, I...” He fumbled for words, strange when he could usually find some easily for any situation. He went with the first feeling that tugged in his stomach. “Is there anything I can do? Anything you need?” He lifted his hand slowly, touching long fingers to Hunter’s elbow, hoping the contact would be comforting and not something that would set off an explosion.
Hunter could not possibly collapse any deeper into the futon, and he did not seem to be in danger of exploding outward, lacking the energy for such a thing. The loss of Zee had hurt him, but it had hurt his pride and his confidence more than himself. The loss of Maren was such a surprise, such an impossible development, a thing so unlikely that he never would have considered guarding against it. He had not known that he cared for Maren so deeply, but it appeared he did. He did not want to face his siblings, not knowing how they felt for her, not knowing what they felt about him. He wanted Callum to fix it because he saw Callum as the most likely to succeed.
The dog rolled over and put her chin on Hunter's knee. The man tipped his chin all the way down against his chest and touched her ears. "The guy on the phone said this guy Wayne Mumford did it." The name sounded foreign to him. "Like he's a big deal. Like the Godfather," he said. It sounded so ridiculous that Hunter laughed, though it was closer to a sob than anything else. Then he looked at Zee with a kind of appeal in his brown eyes. "You know who that is?"
Zee wanted little more in that moment than to be able to reach out and touch more, to provide comfort in some other way since words appeared to be failing him. “I’ve never...” He shook his head, at a loss. His eyes wandered over Hunter, taking in the way he’d shrunk into the futon’s cushion. He hated the look that was on Hunter’s face. It was as painful as the one he’d woken up to the morning after sleeping with Jules. “I’m sorry, I’ve never heard of him.”
Hunter nodded slowly, as if this was only what he had expected. He had no more idea of how to ask for comfort than Zee had to give it, and probably less of an idea that it would do any good. Nobody had ever comforted Hunter over a loss before. The closest he'd come was Maren's hopeful words about Daisy over the journals before she disappeared. ...Died. Before she died. The dog snuffled at his hand but grew disappointed when there was no fun to be had. She started sniffing under the futon as far as she could go with them sitting on it. Hunter said, "I was pretty awful to her, Maren." It was almost conversational, but his expression didn't change.
“We’re... a little awful to our siblings sometimes...” The reply was insufficient, and Zee knew it, but he was suddenly caught up in thoughts of his own sister, and it made his words catch in his throat. He let the dog back down onto the floor, giving her the opportunity to explore if she wanted, and gave all his attention to Hunter. It was a risk, but he hadn’t been pushed away yet, so his hand moved from a tentative touch on Hunter’s elbow to a steady weight on his shoulder, a slow step that wanted to end with arms around him but stayed separate for the moment.
The shoulder closest to Zee was all dejected curve and fraying plaid, and it folded without effort to the pressure at his side. Hunter twisted his chest until he was against the curve of Zee's body, seeking the shelter without realizing what he was doing. His face wasn't visible now, but he felt the back of his eyes burn and his voice was oddly muffled deep in his ears. "Yeah, but I... I mean she was always talking... big words and pissing me off because she wanted to act all smart all the time." He wasn't asking for permission, but he wanted someone to understand, wanted to feel less guilty. The sudden sense of loss was overwhelming, a pressure on his chest, and Hunter turned his head to press his eyes shut against Zee's shirt with a faint sound of pain that was deeply elemental, totally without anything but emotion behind it, no words to interpret the sound at all.
The fraying fabric was soft under Zee’s fingers, and the skin warm beneath that, but all he could focus on was the way Hunter’s voice sounded. Wrong and shaky, which was more than understandable. The sound of pain nearly broke his heart, and his arms came up to wrap around Hunter without another thought. There was no way that he couldn’t hold onto him in this moment. He realized he was talking, soft words that barely had meaning past their comforting tone. “I’ve got you...” It was a statement reflected in the way his arms tightened around Hunter, holding close but not trapping.
"On the phone he seemed so sure, I can't tell if it's true, Callum says he will get him and not to talk but I've never seen him doing anything for us, what if he..." Hunter was becoming increasingly difficult to understand, shoulders shaking, face still hidden. The puppy had stopped what she was doing to return and give them both looks of serious concern, as this phenomenon was entirely new and she wasn't sure she cared for it in the least.
Zee wished he had answers, or even something to say that could help in the moment, but Hunter’s words began to get muddy and thick with emotion. He knew that any sort of words he would attempt would come out wrong, would make light of the situation even though that would never be his intention. So Zee gave up on trying to fix anything and focused more on just being there. He was lean enough that there was very little about him that could be considered soft or comfortable, but he did what he could to at least be steady. With the way Hunter had curled into him, he was able to rest his chin gently on the top of Hunter’s head, and one long-fingered hand came up to curve around the back of Hunter’s neck.
Hunter seemed not to require a response. He wasn't all tears but he wasn't really aware of what was happening, either, focused instead on the internal and knowing only that he felt safe and did not need to move. In a mutter that didn't seem to stop, he told Zee about Raegan, he told him about Raegan's creepy uncle and how his money made him angry, he told Zee about his job and how it kept bringing him trouble. He even told him, near the end, that Jules had found him there and that there was a girl out there in the desert that nobody was ever going to find. It was everything that Hunter hadn't wanted to tell anyone but didn't know how to keep quiet, everything that hurt him where he didn't want anyone to see.
Hunter made no move to push away, so Zee kept his arms close around him, listening to the flow of words. Each sentence was possibly more awful than the last, and Zee had to wonder how Hunter managed to walk around feeling all these things at once. He wanted to take everything and put it somewhere else, somewhere that Hunter wouldn’t have to carry it around every day. He kept quiet for as long as the words continued, never interrupting or trying to offer a solution or say that he didn’t believe something. He let it go until the apartment fell silent again, the collie curled up near their feet with worried canine eyes watching the two of them. “Stay here,” he finally whispered into the silence. It wasn’t an answer to anything, and he knew that he likely couldn’t help with any of Hunter’s problems. But he could at least offer someplace that might be considered safe. At least for the moment.
The long spill of emotion exhausted Hunter. He felt like he’d just worked a three day shift and somebody had been beating on him in between. He slid one arm around Zee’s waist, not even caring to think about what it meant, and taking the reassurance where it was offered. He kept his face down and couldn’t even expend the energy to really worry what it might mean if Zee lost interest, or found someone else. He hurt too much to consider that more hurt was like to come, and the energy wasn’t there to feed the stray thought when it came. Leaning closer on the couch, Hunter closed his eyes. “Okay.”