Who: The Neal Sandwich (AKA Garrus, Neal, brief appearance from Lina) What: Venting about crappy situations over Chinese and beer. When: Recent-ish. Where: Casa de Mills. Rating/Warnings: Medium, language, a severe case of the bromance. Status: Complete!
There were little opportunities for fresh air in Neal’s prison cell. He also couldn’t really go anywhere, save for making restless paces around the room and the bathroom; hell, the closest thing he got to actual fresh air was sticking his head out the window and breathing it in. That was what he was doing now, however, any thoughts of actually climbing out were squelched. He’d tried, and it hadn’t gone well. It just ended up zapping him the way it would have if he attempted to leave via the doorway.
He had a feeling Rumple was going to break out of here eventually - but hadn’t yet for some reason. Maybe he enjoyed the slow descent of his shared headspace into madness. It was like fuel, or something. Because being cooped up? It was definitely taking its toll.
The TV was on, and he had - what else - some terrible ‘reality’ show switched over. After dicking around on his laptop and seeing that nothing was happening on the network, Neal went for a ‘walk’ anyway - to the window - and was just kind of staring out now, wondering if he’d even get to leave this house alive.
“You’re like some forlorn Disney princess looking for her prince,” said a voice, coming from the edges of a doorframe. And said voice belonged to a rather rugged and handsome brofessor, who didn’t look so bad with the stubbly darkness that shadowed his face, but another week or two and one might actually be able to hide a hamster in that mess.
Things had been hectic on everyone’s ends. Garrus had been balls deep in sorting shit out, trying to pinpoint the actual ‘masterminds’ behind the criminal madness orchestration. It all seemed like an incoherent mess of random bouts of activity, but he had a feeling it was all a distraction. A teaser trailer right before the main show. None of those ‘random bouts of activity’ were aimed at him, he’d yet to be caught in it, so technically…
It seemed like they were waiting for the precise moment to make a move.
And through this mess, Neal was in his own, neck-deep in a pile of shit that bled over from dreams and was taking a toll. Garrus didn’t have an ounce of magic within him to help. Feeling ‘useless’ wasn’t a kind of thing he felt often, but in this situation it weighed on his shoulders heavily.
He was a little wary of the room though - could he go in? Would it let him get out? Regina told him it was warded, then pointed him in the general direction, but that’s all she’d said - she was distracted, Lina was on the couch talking with her mouth full about something and there were other people in and out.
Times sure were interesting.
“I’ve got beer and Chinese, and what the hell are you watching?”
“Sex Sent Me to the ER. The one where the four-hundred pound virgin has sex for the first time and pushes his girlfriend through a wall,” Neal responded without missing a beat, still watching the world outside. But then he turned and grinned crookedly, even if it wasn’t one of his usual genuine varieties. “So if I’m the princess, does that make you the prince?”
Hey, he’d take it. And he’d take beer and Chinese food, though he hadn’t been too hungry lately. Food was given to him, since no one wanted him to starve, and he ate sometimes - but it all tasted like sawdust on his tongue. Still, he wandered to the desk and cleared off the items on top, his laptop and a book or two; now they’d have a space to sit and drink at. “Well, welcome to my prison cell, I guess.” A proper greeting, as he dragged an extra chair over.
Looked safe enough, so he tested the ‘ward’ by stepping across the invisible line of the door. Garrus didn’t even feel a thing, not even a chill, but he didn’t know if he would or wouldn’t - again, alien. He can calibrate the Normandy, talk about the mass effect relays and discuss ways on how to properly take out Brutes, but the hocus-pocus stuff really was not his area of expertise.
“I hear those princes can be dicks,” he said, a smirk with his words. Room wasn’t bad - cozy, well-furnished, looked like something that’d belong in a hotel. Still, it was easy to get sucked into the comforting appearance when you weren’t the one trapped in these walls day and night. He dumped the brown bag (kung pao chicken, sweet and sour pork, fried and white rice, egg rolls) on the surface, along with the six pack he brought with him - Heineken, this time around, not the Guinness he was so fond of chugging. “You’ve got a good crowd downstairs.”
Neal immediately went for the beer because, rain or shine or hunger or lack of, he could still always appreciated a nice cold Heine. He popped the tab and took a long, comforting swig from the can before he tackled the Chinese food. They could just eat from the cartons, no big deal. He and his Cuddlefish were manly men.
“Yeah, they all...well, they’re good. I trust them,” he said, pulling the lid off a container of egg rolls. Maybe if he distanced himself enough from the worry simmering in the back of his mind, it’d be like a normal get-together with a friend. “I just don’t trust myself. Or the situation, I mean.”
He scooped up some rice, stirring it, poking at it within the paper box. “Maybe my time on this Earth is done? Who knows.”
Garrus often forgot the concept of plates. One might think months of domestication might actually lead him to use actual silverware and other things, but he always still got shit ‘to-go.’ Now more than ever. Sitting down and having the luxury of a full course meal somewhere got him antsy. Like he shouldn’t be doing that kind of thing, not while scum plagued the streets like a slowly spreading poison and cross hairs were at his neck.
“You’re not done for yet,” Garrus snorted. “Really doubt anyone would let that happen. Besides, embarrassing best man speeches? Still needs to happen.” Usually he’d be opting for the side of pessimism and sarcasm in shitty situations, but he wasn’t going to do that with Neal’s life on the line. He had to have hope. After chowing down spoonfuls of pork and rice, he washed it down with a beer and then looked him over, brows furrowed. He didn’t look too different, but… “What’s with the eyes?”
Neal swallowed a bite of kung pao chicken, the spiciness of it making his eyes water. Garrus had gotten the good stuff apparently, god bless him. The coldness of the beer soothed the burn nicely. “Just a mark of the...other presence, I guess,” he shrugged, looking down, lids lowering halfway. He knew the reptilian eyes were creepy - they’d been that way on his father too. Had scared young Baelfire; he had plenty of nightmares about it too.
“The Dark One’s curse, which is what he was under for so long - all that power he took upon himself. It kind of turns you into something scaly. Hook called him the Crocodile,” Neal chuckled. “Which makes my father essentially every storybook character - “ From Rumpelstiltskin to the Beast to the Crocodile to even the Scarecrow, or something, when he was completely warped, “...so I get it’s a lot to keep up with.”
Another bite of food, another swig of beer - it was beginning to feel almost normal. He felt some of the tension melting off of him. “What about you, how are things on the outside?” he wanted to know, obvious concern there.
Neal’s father was a many of many complications, it seemed, a kind of magic Garrus didn’t really understand (not that he understood any of it, to be perfectly honest), but it was definitely something to be feared of. And if Regina thought keeping him sealed in a room under the same room that held plenty of magic-users was the best course of action, well…
He’d believe it. Support it, because it really was for his own good.
Garrus broke his eggroll in half before continuing, because those things were just easier to eat when split. “I’m sure you’ve heard about all the damn noise they’re making,” he said, cheeks filled with hot air for a quick sec before he exhaled into a sigh. It just made him look...tired. “Nothing life threatening. But like I told Neena, it’s not the ones making noise you have to worry about. It’s like all this is a distraction from those who are actually doing any sort of dangerous planning.”
“That’s basically how it works,” Neal sighed, dusting off his hands. Then he went for an eggroll too, biting off the crispy edge of one. All of this sounded too familiar, and reminiscent of his time living and traveling with his stepfather and their band of criminals. The man had his fingers and toes dipped into all aspects of the criminal underworld - where he had been a well known figure. Maybe not so much anymore, since he was no spring chicken, but echoes still remained. “They didn’t come here to fuck shit up because they can, they came to fuck your shit up. All the other crap is fluff. Or maybe they think it’ll draw you out because you’ll wanna do the martyr thing and protect everyone.”
He just wished he could get out there and do more. But judging by the looks of it, Garrus had been burning the midnight oil working on shifting the puzzle pieces together anyway.
“They had pictures of you and people close to you. No one out of those people been specifically targeted yet though, right? So it must be coming. While the police and everyone else has their backs turned to see who stuffed a grenade in Mickey’s pants.”
All petty distractions, is what it was, and Garrus made a face of disapproval at the martyr comment. Really? “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you can’t protect everyone.” It was an unfortunate truth, a harsh fact - he’d learn that well in the dreams, watching Shepard make some of the toughest decisions a person could make, and letting those decisions weigh heavily on her shoulders because someone had to take responsibility. Granted, this scenario wasn’t exactly like a war that could possibly lead to galactic extinction, but the sentiment still rung true.
“But I’ll protect everyone I can, and that--that needs to be enough.” It was all depressing talk, no matter which problem they decided to discuss - his or Neal’s. “But I’ve got the word spread, people with capabilities on it, helping clean up the stress. Not just me playing Badass of the Night.” And he knew Cindy would prefer him not to pull his guns out on anything in fear of drawing attention to himself, but he was careful. He wouldn’t go alone. Where he went, she went, vice versa. Leaving her out of it for her ‘own safety’ would be an insult, and a disrespect to what she could do.
As much as he did want to coddle her, keep her away in a panic room until all this blew over. Cindy couldn’t die, but like Laura said - someone could find that out, and exploit it.
“No, you can’t protect everyone.” That was a lesson that Neal had only recently learned the hard way - and he’d tried. He’d tried so very hard to deal with everything on his own, to keep the people he cared about away from the mess (because fuck if they weren’t dealing with their own shit enough as it was). Yet, it didn’t work. Everything just got even more fucked up because of his good intentions.
The road to Hell truly was paved with them.
“Gotta say, at least you’re letting others help,” he said, more like grumbled, sulkingly, as he nursed his beer. It was mostly done so he he’d go for another. “I didn’t want to. I’m the type that takes it all because I think I deserve it all. There are probably a few psychological reasons for that.”
“I blame your daddy issues,” quipped a lone redhead at the door, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the frame. That button nose of hers wiggled - she knew she smelled Chinese from somewhere.
Here comes the beast with the endless pit of a stomach. “Hey,” Garrus greeted, motioning over to the beer in case she wanted any, then turned back to Neal with a shake of his head. “You did what you thought you had to do. It wasn’t the best option, but I get it, Neal. Good thing you stopped being stubborn and actually let people help, otherwise I’m sure there would have been chains involved with sealing you into this room.”
“The non-kinky kinds,” Lina contributed with a smirk, entering the room and eyeing just what the fuck was on television. “Um, not going to really ask...”
She didn’t come up here often; not unless she had to, and she’d drop by a some food and drinks and participate in a little small talk. But Lina had been fairly distant all things considered. Not outright cold, just distant. Like there was a lecture in the horizon at some point, maybe in smack over the head in Neal’s future.
“Wasn’t like I had a choice about quitting with the stubbornness,” Neal grinned slightly, a flicker image of his usual slick, puppy-eyed charm. “Not after Regina lured me in under the guise of fixing her toilet.” Clever move, Evil Queen for the steal or something. “But...I get it now too. There are people who will go to bat for me, I don’t have to handle it all myself.”
People like Linabean, whom he handed a can of beer too. And an eggroll, wrapped in napkins. She could have more if she felt like it - there was a lot of food here, and he wanted her to keep her strength up. Neal knew her well by now, and knew she was waiting for the right time to come at him with a lecture or a few punches to the shoulder. Probably after all this shit was settled. Provided he wasn’t six feet under.
Oh well, he could appreciate the Neal sandwich now. Third time was a charm for this, right? Either Lina and Garrus were carrying his drunk ass out of a bar or visiting him when he was otherwise incapacitated. It was a beautiful thing.
“Swear to god, we’re all due a vacation really soon here.”
It’s like Neal had experience taming this wild-haired beast, with the offering of beer and an eggroll - excitement lit those eyes of hers, because she was a girl easy to please, and snatched them from his hands. “Vacation sounds nice. Once everything blows over, we should have a party here!” Regina wouldn’t mind too much if she volunteered her place up for it, right? It was definitely big enough, but the woman would be yelling at them like they were teenagers if someone broke one of those fragile looking vases that served no purpose. Tab popped, the can let out a quick hiss, and she occupied a spot at the end of the bed and crossed her legs. “Let me guess - you guys are talking about how shitty things are, and are trying to cheer each other up for the sake of your bromance?”
Oh, she wasn’t wrong, and Garrus nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, mixing the sweet and sour sauce with the remainder of his rice. “It’s working pretty well. We were about to even play footsies before you showed up. Now if we do it in front of someone, it’s just weird.”
His brows waggled at Neal.
“Ummmmm, I think if you did it in private, it’d be weirder.” Lina looked like she was about to burst into a fit of giggles at the thought because, lord, Pete was so right about their upcoming marriage.
“We tried to cheer each other up, but we’re both still kinda emo,” Neal quipped, and he had socked feet so he effectively poked at Garrus with one of them. There, that was the best game of footsies he could manage. “I bet Regina would let us have a party here for sure.” Or she’d look at them all like they were insane, but since she had ‘kids’ (meaning, fully grown boys) eating her out of house and home what difference would it make if they had a little celebration to commemorate the occasion of Neal surviving some kind of bizarre extraction ritual?
Well, before the party they had to get shit settled with their scruffy alien friend here. It would happen. Neal promised himself he’d be jumping in as soon as he could, right into the fray, to help take care of this problem and ensure that he really would get to make the best man speech at a certain someone’s wedding.
“Gotta have something to look forward to, right?” He leaned in, assessing their food stash. “Okay. Last beer’s mine. I claim it.”
Garrus tried not to laugh with his mouthful, ever-so appreciating the nudging of feet. “I felt that deep in my heart, just so you know,” he said, after swallowing the final portion of Americanized Chinese cuisine. Sorry, Lina, no leftovers for you. He’d been starving, but he’d also been so busy some meals had been skipped.
And so have his shaving sessions.
Two bites of the eggroll Neal had offered her, and it was gone, washed away by a graceful chug of at least half of the beer can. All motions so quick that a burp had brewed and she’d let it go, just like the song. “Oops, excuse you, pigs.” Yeah, she’ll blame it on them while she wiped her mouth. “She probably would, after someone gives her puppy eyes and begs.” And by someone, of course, it was the man with the face so cute that it was always so damn squishable. Sometimes too cute to punch, but she was going to see how she felt after all this was over before introducing her knuckles into his nose. “‘Course, though, there’s also the matter of you pissing off every bad person in the world, which is pretty impressive.” That comment was directed to Mr. Scruffy, who was about to grow a beard so intense things could move in there.
Garrus regretted handing the last beer to Neal. “I’m aware. Still flattered, though. But, hey, at least you stuck in these walls…” His lips tugged into a smirk at his buddy. “You won’t get shot a third time. You’ve got some rotten luck with that, you know.”
Neal knew he had the atomic bomb version of puppy eyes, enough to soften Regina into the idea of an elaborate ‘hey, we’re all alive, let’s celebrate!’ party. They were powerful weapons and he capitalized on that whenever possible. And because he was so nice, he split the last beer with Garrus. A few swigs and half the can was gone - no backwash, don’t worry - and then his Cuddlefish could have the rest.
“No argument here. My luck is the shittiest kind,” he groaned, but gave another foot-poke anyway, just for bringing it up. “Guess the good part about it is...what goes down, has to eventually come up, yeah?”
And it would. For all of them. Come on, it was just simple laws of physics, right?
Oh, lord. They were nauseating. So nauseating that Lina almost threw up beer in her mouth, but that’s just waste of booze. “That’s equivalent of saying that if we’ve hit rock bottom, the only other direction is...up? Assuming we’ve hit rock bottom and something else doesn’t pop up.” Okay, a little sprinkle of cynicism on her part wasn’t necessary, but shit liked to be thrown into the fan a lot. Clearing her throat, she hopped off the bed and gave them both ‘reassuring’ (see: rough) pats on the back. “Don’t worry! It’ll all be fine, and we’ll go back to doing normal things, like groceries. Or hanging out at coffee shops.”
Now to leave before she witnessed more of their foreplay, taking the remainder of her beer with her.
Garrus watched her exit, eyebrow raised, and then turned back to Neal. Rather grateful for the sharing (if you loved a bro, you’d share with a bro), he finished off the rest of the last Heineken. “We know some weird people, Cassidy.”