ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ (mobdog) wrote in remains_rpg, @ 2016-01-28 08:00:00 |
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6:00PM: Vic and Rome, before dinner. Just like that, Vic's first stint in prison was over. Incarceration was a fate he'd been able to escape before the world turned upside down, but his brother hadn't been so lucky. The years Roman had spent in jail still ate at Vic's conscience to the tune of a repeating refrain of 'it should've been me' and once his brother had been released, Vic hadn't been able to see him until the new world order had brought them back together again. Now, years later, the tables had turned and as Vic dropped heavily into his favorite lawn chair, waiting for his first dinner home to be ready, he couldn't help but wonder how his brother had handled being on the outside of it this time. When the large, unmistakable shadow of his brother fell over him, he tilted his head back to look up at Rome. Vic's smile didn't quite meet his eyes. "They say it'll be ready in a couple minutes." The smaller man looked over his younger brother, cataloguing Vic’s every feature and branding them into his memory: the patchwork of bruises, that kink in his shoulder that was going to have a bitch of a time healing, at this rate. Roman kept trying to look cheerful, overjoyed at the mission having been a success and having his family back—that claustrophobic weight was off his chest, for one—but he kept drifting back into being a fussy worrywart instead. Like their babushka, but condensed into a 6’0” man. It wasn't unwanted, though; that gloom was still present in Vic's eyes as he returned the scrutiny, but he felt reassured by the attention nonetheless. “It won’t be a 5-star Michelin meal, but maybe it’s better than whatever they were feeding you in there. Any of the long-storied Capitol generosity make its way to the prison canteen?” Rome said; an attempt to joke, an attempt to find out more. He took the other lawn chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Like hell it did." And it still felt like this wasn't real, a kind of mirage or something. Like any moment now Vic would feel the Vaders tugging back his arms to cuff him again, pulling extra hard on his right. He kept his eyes steady on his brother's face to keep himself present. "But, hey. It was enough to keep us going." “All we could ask for,” Rome said softly. And before he realised it, his hand had found Vic’s uninjured shoulder, thumb at his collar, giving him a reassuring squeeze. (The first time he’d hugged him on the ride back, it had been almost impossible to let go.) The touch reminded Roman that he had his brother back, just as it reminded Vic that he was indeed home. “It’s gonna be alright. You’re going to eat a filling dinner, Valya’s going to start bugging you for poker tips and Russian practice again, and you get to breathe free air. It’s good to have you back, Vitya.” And then we’ll have a funeral for Tesla. Vic's eyebrows raised and he barely managed to cut himself off from questioning just what, exactly, about the situation was alright. His friend was dead and Rodeo, Sarge, and Bishop were still coming down from the injuries they'd sustained during the cage fight. Morale had seemed upbeat at the Dog Park when they'd been brought home, but it seemed temporary and bleak. It felt like everyone knew their victory couldn't last. Still, there were some good things. He placed one large hand on top of his brother’s, tightening his grip without even thinking about it, and looked sideways towards the familiar Airstream. His family was in there, fussing and fiddling around with dinner. As long as he was with them, he'd be able to manage the turmoil he felt inside. "Yeah," Vic said simply, his voice firm as he willed himself to believe. "It's gonna be alright." 10:30PM: Max, Vic, Marina, and Rome fall asleep in the RV. And really, it was good to be home. Really, it was. Vic's boys were a sight for sore fucking eyes and though he'd seen Roman and Marina on the way back to the Dog Park, it hadn't fully felt like they'd been reunited until they'd all settled around their makeshift family table for dinner. Just like it'd always been before. So why did he feel so tired and empty inside? "Someone tell me there's still moonshine to be found around this place," he joked, but the words sounded hollow to his ears. "We better put Bishop to work at that." “He’s going to have to pull double shifts at the still,” Max quipped from standing position off to the side of the conversation. He kept staring at Vic, afraid that if he closed his eyes he’d open them and he wouldn’t be there. “But something tells me he won’t mind the extra work. We inhaled most of it to drown our sorrows of you not being here but I’m sure we got a few drops somewhere.” "I think you're right." Vic turned his head to send a tired grin in Max's direction. "I'm pretty sure he missed that damned still more than anything else." There was something unspoken there, of course; everyone knew that one officer hadn't gone to jail, too. But who needed real talk at a time like this? "Bet he's out there humping it right now." Max couldn’t even begin to understand whatever Vic and the rest of the officers were feeling, being back at camp. Max didn’t know how anyone could feel normal after being in a place like La Quinta. Max heard rumors about the makeshift jail...mostly from when he lived at the hospital, surprisingly. People had laughed and cheered about the cruel conditions “criminals” had been forced to live in, claiming lawbreakers “deserved it”. Max had been disgusted...he still was. At least now he could try his best to make his best friend feel as safe as he possibly could now that he was out of that hell on earth. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m so glad you’re home, but now that you are there isn’t enough room for me to crash at your place when your better half force feeds me booze,” Max joked, thinking back to the first night of Hanukkah when he couldn’t be trusted to walk the distance between Marina’s RV and the Airstream after a rousing, alcohol-fueled game of Dr. Dreidel. “You shut your face, Maximilian,” Marina snapped, though her voice held no malice. “You know I didn’t make you do anything. And if you’re still butthurt about losing to me so badly at dreidel, you should learn how to hold your liquor better.” As elated as Marina was that Vic and the other Officers were home, she knew that things couldn’t just go back to normal. Vic wasn’t quite himself and Marina couldn’t blame him. Though she didn’t know exactly what he’d been through, she knew that the Mayor hated the Hellhounds enough that she could only assume it had been very bad. It would take time for things to mend, but at least she knew he was safe. Looking up at Vic, she gave his hand a squeeze, then scooted out of the booth and moved to the cabinet to pull out two jars of moonshine before returning to the table. “Here, dorogoy.” Vic took the glass and reached his other hand out to affectionately pat Marina on the ass before she sat down. "I missed Max being a little bitch, huh?" The rough phrasing was mitigated by the leisurely way he leaned back in his chair, looking at Max like he was trying to memorize his face. He'd spent the whole night studying his loved ones that way; he was sure that he'd never get sick of looking at them. "Anything else happen that I should know about? I heard something about some kinda fucked up rain." Though Max objected to the “B” word on a fundamental level he knew that Vic was only joshing around. Although, now that he mentioned it, he was feeling a little sleepy with all the eating and drinking and revelry they’d managed to cram into the day so far. It was still early and there was still much celebrating to be done with the officers being home but there was warm lightness he felt knowing Vic was back at home, safe with his family that really that mellowed Max’s whole demeanor. It was if a huge weight had been lifted off of Max’s shoulders and he was sure he wasn’t the only one that felt that way. Sure, there was probably a buttload of things Vic had missed while he was locked up but, now that he wasn’t, they didn’t seem to matter as much. “There was weird some weird glow snow but since hardly anyone lost all their hair or grew any extra limbs or heads, it kinda came and went,” Max replied with yawn. He stretched his arms out wide. "Oh, yeah. I heard about that shit. Heard it was eating through clothes or something like that, I dunno." It'd been hearsay, knowledge gained from eavesdropping on two of the Vaders. Vic shrugged his left shoulder, opting to not mention that while the 'snow' had been falling, Reason had been toying with them in his own special way. “Bet you’re gonna be glad to sleep on your own bed, huh, Vic?” Before Vic could respond, there was a thump at the door and then his older brother entered, a fist pressed to his mouth in a yawn. “Hope I’m not interrupting,” Roman said, pausing in the doorway to assess and count: he was assuaged by the reassuring sight of each person in their space, each member of their little makeshift family present. Only Sasha and Valya were missing, but he’d just seen to the kids, making sure they were entertaining themselves over in the neighbouring RV (the last he’d seen, Valentina was kicking her cousin’s ass at cards). "Like hell you are." Vic took a sip of his drink; each time he swallowed, the simple burn of the alcohol was a reminder that he was finally free, that he could do shit like sit around with his family and get stupid amounts of drunk. He held the glass out to his brother in a offer, then added, "The kids okay?" He got the words out before he punctuated them with a yawn, unintentionally answering Max's question in a roundabout kinda way. Rome accepted the glass and leaned against the kitchen counter while taking a liberal swallow, easing his continually-parched throat. “Yeah, they’re good. Valya’s currently scamming Sasha out of whatever comes closest to pocket money these days.” Looking over the others, catching the yawn and the dragging slowness in Vic’s speech, Roman’s mouth quirked in a wry smile. “We keeping my baby brother up past his bedtime?” It was a legitimate question, though. “Hello and/or duh,” Max replied good-naturedly to Roman. He beamed at the new arrival, glad his pseudo-Uncle was joining them. It had been so long, too long, since the entire family had been together. They’d done their best while Vic was away but his absence was too big, too apparent, too difficult to ignore. It felt right, all of them crammed into the RV together. Max never wanted to leave. “He’s got a lot of missed nights to make up for.” Max doesn’t know all details of the jailbreak but he knows Marina and Rome put their patooties on the line to make sure their people were set free. Max wasn’t capable of such heroism and bravery; his talents lay elsewhere. He’d do his damndest to make sure everyone was comfortable and happy now that they were home, safe and sound. Marina gave Rome a smile as he entered the RV, laughing and shook her head as his question, smirking now. Under the table she gave Vic’s thigh a squeeze, and said, “Vic’s a big boy. He can decide when he’s had enough,” echoing Max’s sentiment. “It’s gotta be like a frat party out there,” Max said, judiciously sipping his drink and gesturing to the door of the RV. “Don’t let my inability to see straight stop any of you if you want to head out into the fray and whoop it up.” Vic shook his head. "Nah, man, they're just jealous they aren't invited to the party we got going on in here." His amused smile twisted in a slight grimace as he attempted to suppress a yawn, feeling as though the alcohol and the events of the day were getting closer to catching up to him the longer they talked. Despite her previous words, the yawning was infectious and Marina covered her mouth as she let out one of her own. With Vic home she could finally feel herself relaxing in a way that she hadn’t in weeks. All she really wanted to do was curl up next to him and get a good night’s sleep, one where she knew she would wake up the next day and not be alone anymore. With another sip of her drink, she asked, “Should we set up the bed before any of us fall asleep sitting up?” Grateful that he hadn't been the first one to suggest it, Vic nodded. "Yeah, let's do it." He pushed himself up to stand, ducking his head slightly to avoid hitting it on the ceiling of the RV. "Else y'all are gonna have to carry me over there." He was too drunk to even attempt to set up the bed, though, so he held a hand out towards it and waited for someone else to take the lead. Roman obediently stood to the side, letting one of the more regular Airstream occupants at it. “And while I’ve carried you around more than a few times over the course of my life, I’m not exactly keen on it now,” he pointed out. “I’d probably throw out my back.” Marina had spent the last few months setting the bed up by herself, so once everyone was out of her way, she quickly converted the booth into the bed. Reaching up into the overhead cabinet, she pulled down the blankets and pillows she’d stashed there earlier. Fuck if she was going to actually make the bed, though. Instead, she haphazardly spread out a few blankets before turning back to the boys, a smirk on her face, clearly pleased with herself. “There.” The eldest Scherbatsky shook his head, laughing but clearly not bothered enough to fix it for her. "Good enough for me." Better than nothing, of course, and a hell of a lot better than the gen pop bunk Vic had shared with Bishop. He half-sat, half-fell onto the bed, his coordination lacking after all the drinks they'd had that evening, and turned to rest his head on a pillow. Once Vic crawled his way onto bed, Marina moved next to him, then said to Rome and Max, “Come sit.” Even if Vic was drunk and struggling to stay awake, his head leaned against the back of her neck and his eyes already closed, she knew he wanted his family close. “Is there even room for all of us?” Rome asked jokingly—all three men were hardly small—but he sat down anyway. But as soon as he was off his feet, it was like his rigid posture just melted, giving way to a bone-deep exhaustion instead. It had been a long, long day. Long week. Long several months. Long fucking year. “Doesn’t matter if there’s room,” Max said, bounding over to the bed and hopping in behind Vic. “You don’t have to ask me twice.” He curled up behind his buddy and threw a lazy, careless arm around him, making sure to squeeze Marina’s arm in front of Vic and chuff Rome’s shoulder in front of her. For now, Roman was just content to let himself lean back onto the makeshift bed, arms crossed over his chest, closing his eyes and listening to the others murmuring and talking. And if he started to drift off, well, that was alright too. His younger brother was already asleep, snoring gently. “This makes me think of The Walton’s,” Max said with a slurred sort of giggle, stealing some of the pillow away from Vic for himself so he could be more comfortable. “Except, you know, we’re way hotter.” Max approximated as close to a Southern accent as he could manage. “Goodnight, Maw. Goodnight, Paw. Goodnight, John Boy.” Unable to quite find the words in her sleepy state, Marina hummed out a contented sigh and followed the others into sleep. |