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xp_logsGabriel goes to check on Maya and force her to discuss their foster dad Wade's heel turn.
The tulips were a gesture with two purposes.
First, Gabriel felt like he couldn't show up at Maya's door empty-handed. But he couldn't fathom bringing her booze, and he'd been in downtown Salem Center buying Darcy's Scotch when he happened to walk by the florist.
But second, he was fairly certain the bouquet would give her something to mock, which would at least lighten the mood he expected would hover over this particular visit.
And so he stood in front of her door, bouquet in hand — no vase, because he didn't own one and couldn't be bothered trying to find one — steeling himself a bit. He took a breath, then rang the doorbell and knocked on her door.
“Doors open!”
Maya pushed the button on her phone that would unlock the door and closed the ring camera app that alerted her when someone buzzed. She pressed pause on the documentary she’d been vaguely watching and pondered if she wanted to actually get up.
In the end she decided since it was Gabe he probably wouldn’t mind if she stayed seated, especially not given she’d found a nice comfortable position where her foot didn’t throb.
"Hey," he said as he entered, raising the bouquet in greeting as he surveyed her. She didn't look as bad as he'd expected, but then she'd been off recovering, so he assumed he'd missed the worst of it. "These are for you, obviously. Don't laugh."
“There’s a vase under the sink,” Maya signed as well as spoke, but she couldn’t quite keep the grin off her face. He’d brought her flowers, which was adorable
“You can bring me a soda too.”
"Might as well. I'm up." Ordinarily, Gabriel would have pointed out that she should have phrased that as a question. But given the circumstances, he let it go. Using his powers, he grabbed a knife to cut the stems off flowers, stuck them in a vase that he'd filled and poured a soda into a glass with some ice. Returning to real time, he casually walked over to her and, ever the courteous bartender, handed her the drink with a smile. "Here." Then he took a seat.
Maya accepted the drink and took a sip before placing it down on a small side table. She gave him a semi-serious look as she waited for him to bring up whatever it was that had been on his mind lately
“Thanks,” she said, hand also moving through the abbreviated sign.
He nodded in response, not even bother trying to hide that he was scanning her. “So,” he said. “How are you?”
“You first." Maya adjusted her foot on the throw pillow she’d been resting it on and moved the iPad she’d been playing Stardew Valley on to the small side table as well. If Gabe wanted a heart to heart, he’d have to give some too.
“Well, I didn’t get shot,” he said rather pointedly, giving her a look. “But things here became 100 different kinds of fucked, and Marius tried to kill me, I guess?” He shrugged. “Or maybe just neutralize me. Either way, that, frankly, seems to have been getting off easy.”
“I got shot,” Maya agreed, her accompanying sign almost a dismissive flick. “I’m not dead. You’re not dead. It’s a win.”
"Stop it," Gabriel frowned. "It's not a win." He couldn't believe she would be pretending otherwise. "You got shot, and you needed days to recover. And..." He didn't even want to have to say it, and he was starting to get annoyed that she was going to make him.
“After the man I think of as an uncle was just lucid enough to shoot me in the foot.”
Maya said it matter of factly, the snap of the words harsh as she picked up her can of soda and looked down at the label.
“He didn’t kill me, Gabe. He was crazy enough to, he tried to kill Clarice. But not me. Me he recognised. Why do you think that’s a loss?”
"Because he's a fucking lunatic who fucking shot you!" He would not, ordinarily, have been so furious in front of her. Not because he thought she needed to see him maintain composure — they knew each other too well at this point — but because he didn't like to lose it in front of anyone. "That's not — it's not okay, Maya. Do you know how lucky you were? You don't think he and Clarice were close too? I mean, what the actual fuck!"
Maya launched the can of soda at his head with a furious scream, on her feet before she remembered and then collapsing downward as she got tangled in pillow, chair and the sheer agony of having put weight on a gunshot wound that wasn’t ready for it.
Gabriel, grateful for his powers, caught the can. He wordlessly went to her bathroom, pulled a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers from the medicine cabinet and tossed it in her direction before returning to his seat.
Maya swore viciously in Spanish, calling Gabriel’s parentage into question and telling him exactly what he could do with his painkillers as she struggled back up into her chair and settled in again.
She took several deep breaths, and then glared.
“What good does it do, mi hermano? I can’t do anything about it.”
"No," Gabriel acknowledged. "You can't." He refused to break eye contact with her. "But don't pretend it's fine. It's not." He kept calm, because he'd already lost his cool once, and it clearly hadn't served him. "You're not supposed to be fine. None of this is fine. And you're not stronger for pretending it is."
“Speaking from personal experience?”
Maya dry swallowed both pills and sat back into her chair, allowing the headrest to cradle her suddenly exhausted self.
“Why is it that people only offer advice when it’s someone else doing the same thing they were just doing not months ago, like nobody will call them on their bullshit.”
He bristled slightly at that, but he refused to let it fluster him. He'd been dealing with Maya for years; he knew how she operated, and he knew she wanted to get a rise out of him. "There's so much you think you know," he said after a second. "But yes, I am speaking from personal experience, actually." He wanted to tell her that he had been trying to deal with his shit, recently. But that would mean explaining just what his shit is, and he didn't owe her anything.
But he'd give her something small. "M-Day was one of the five worst days of my life," he said, standing and moving to the kitchen, because he refused to look at her while he told her this. "And I would probably be dead by now if Wade had not dragged me back here and forced me to deal with my shit instead of drinking myself to death." He opened the fridge, peering inside. "I was barely holding it together. You think I'm a mess now? You have no idea."
“I don’t,”
It was tired, and sad but it was honest. It was a concession. She stared into the middle distance, wondering when she’d ever felt more tired.
“You leave all the time. You don’t talk to me, except about easy things. It makes me crazy. You want me to say things but you never say them either. Don’t I get to care too?”
He didn't respond to that, instead just grabbing a bottle of water and turning to study her. He wasn't sure what to say. He couldn't promise not to keep leaving, and he couldn't promise to be more open with her, because he was only just starting to be open with himself.
"You know, when I found out that he'd..." He gestured to her vaguely. "I wanted to kill him." He shrugged, looking at the label on the bottle and starting to peel it off. "You sure you want to care that much?"
“Idiot,”
Maya said it affectionately, with a shake of her head and a wry smile. Like she wasn’t already caring about him like he was her own blood.
“I’m sorry I worried you, that I got shot. I didn’t think he would, even though he was crazy. I thought he was still Wade enough.”
Gabriel opened the bottle and took a sip. "He probably still was," he conceded. "Still is," he corrected himself. "I probably shouldn't have said otherwise. I just..." He trailed off, looking at his hands. "You don't expect people to turn like that." Not people you loved, anyway. But this was veering dangerously close to being about his shit.
"I didn't mean to upset you," he said, looking back up at her. "I really just wanted to lay eyes on you and make sure you were okay."
Maya waved away the apology, she didn’t hold grudges when it came to family.
“You got time at all?” She asked instead, picking up and waggling a remote control at him. “There’s new episodes of DogCops.”
The tulips were a gesture with two purposes.
First, Gabriel felt like he couldn't show up at Maya's door empty-handed. But he couldn't fathom bringing her booze, and he'd been in downtown Salem Center buying Darcy's Scotch when he happened to walk by the florist.
But second, he was fairly certain the bouquet would give her something to mock, which would at least lighten the mood he expected would hover over this particular visit.
And so he stood in front of her door, bouquet in hand — no vase, because he didn't own one and couldn't be bothered trying to find one — steeling himself a bit. He took a breath, then rang the doorbell and knocked on her door.
“Doors open!”
Maya pushed the button on her phone that would unlock the door and closed the ring camera app that alerted her when someone buzzed. She pressed pause on the documentary she’d been vaguely watching and pondered if she wanted to actually get up.
In the end she decided since it was Gabe he probably wouldn’t mind if she stayed seated, especially not given she’d found a nice comfortable position where her foot didn’t throb.
"Hey," he said as he entered, raising the bouquet in greeting as he surveyed her. She didn't look as bad as he'd expected, but then she'd been off recovering, so he assumed he'd missed the worst of it. "These are for you, obviously. Don't laugh."
“There’s a vase under the sink,” Maya signed as well as spoke, but she couldn’t quite keep the grin off her face. He’d brought her flowers, which was adorable
“You can bring me a soda too.”
"Might as well. I'm up." Ordinarily, Gabriel would have pointed out that she should have phrased that as a question. But given the circumstances, he let it go. Using his powers, he grabbed a knife to cut the stems off flowers, stuck them in a vase that he'd filled and poured a soda into a glass with some ice. Returning to real time, he casually walked over to her and, ever the courteous bartender, handed her the drink with a smile. "Here." Then he took a seat.
Maya accepted the drink and took a sip before placing it down on a small side table. She gave him a semi-serious look as she waited for him to bring up whatever it was that had been on his mind lately
“Thanks,” she said, hand also moving through the abbreviated sign.
He nodded in response, not even bother trying to hide that he was scanning her. “So,” he said. “How are you?”
“You first." Maya adjusted her foot on the throw pillow she’d been resting it on and moved the iPad she’d been playing Stardew Valley on to the small side table as well. If Gabe wanted a heart to heart, he’d have to give some too.
“Well, I didn’t get shot,” he said rather pointedly, giving her a look. “But things here became 100 different kinds of fucked, and Marius tried to kill me, I guess?” He shrugged. “Or maybe just neutralize me. Either way, that, frankly, seems to have been getting off easy.”
“I got shot,” Maya agreed, her accompanying sign almost a dismissive flick. “I’m not dead. You’re not dead. It’s a win.”
"Stop it," Gabriel frowned. "It's not a win." He couldn't believe she would be pretending otherwise. "You got shot, and you needed days to recover. And..." He didn't even want to have to say it, and he was starting to get annoyed that she was going to make him.
“After the man I think of as an uncle was just lucid enough to shoot me in the foot.”
Maya said it matter of factly, the snap of the words harsh as she picked up her can of soda and looked down at the label.
“He didn’t kill me, Gabe. He was crazy enough to, he tried to kill Clarice. But not me. Me he recognised. Why do you think that’s a loss?”
"Because he's a fucking lunatic who fucking shot you!" He would not, ordinarily, have been so furious in front of her. Not because he thought she needed to see him maintain composure — they knew each other too well at this point — but because he didn't like to lose it in front of anyone. "That's not — it's not okay, Maya. Do you know how lucky you were? You don't think he and Clarice were close too? I mean, what the actual fuck!"
Maya launched the can of soda at his head with a furious scream, on her feet before she remembered and then collapsing downward as she got tangled in pillow, chair and the sheer agony of having put weight on a gunshot wound that wasn’t ready for it.
Gabriel, grateful for his powers, caught the can. He wordlessly went to her bathroom, pulled a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers from the medicine cabinet and tossed it in her direction before returning to his seat.
Maya swore viciously in Spanish, calling Gabriel’s parentage into question and telling him exactly what he could do with his painkillers as she struggled back up into her chair and settled in again.
She took several deep breaths, and then glared.
“What good does it do, mi hermano? I can’t do anything about it.”
"No," Gabriel acknowledged. "You can't." He refused to break eye contact with her. "But don't pretend it's fine. It's not." He kept calm, because he'd already lost his cool once, and it clearly hadn't served him. "You're not supposed to be fine. None of this is fine. And you're not stronger for pretending it is."
“Speaking from personal experience?”
Maya dry swallowed both pills and sat back into her chair, allowing the headrest to cradle her suddenly exhausted self.
“Why is it that people only offer advice when it’s someone else doing the same thing they were just doing not months ago, like nobody will call them on their bullshit.”
He bristled slightly at that, but he refused to let it fluster him. He'd been dealing with Maya for years; he knew how she operated, and he knew she wanted to get a rise out of him. "There's so much you think you know," he said after a second. "But yes, I am speaking from personal experience, actually." He wanted to tell her that he had been trying to deal with his shit, recently. But that would mean explaining just what his shit is, and he didn't owe her anything.
But he'd give her something small. "M-Day was one of the five worst days of my life," he said, standing and moving to the kitchen, because he refused to look at her while he told her this. "And I would probably be dead by now if Wade had not dragged me back here and forced me to deal with my shit instead of drinking myself to death." He opened the fridge, peering inside. "I was barely holding it together. You think I'm a mess now? You have no idea."
“I don’t,”
It was tired, and sad but it was honest. It was a concession. She stared into the middle distance, wondering when she’d ever felt more tired.
“You leave all the time. You don’t talk to me, except about easy things. It makes me crazy. You want me to say things but you never say them either. Don’t I get to care too?”
He didn't respond to that, instead just grabbing a bottle of water and turning to study her. He wasn't sure what to say. He couldn't promise not to keep leaving, and he couldn't promise to be more open with her, because he was only just starting to be open with himself.
"You know, when I found out that he'd..." He gestured to her vaguely. "I wanted to kill him." He shrugged, looking at the label on the bottle and starting to peel it off. "You sure you want to care that much?"
“Idiot,”
Maya said it affectionately, with a shake of her head and a wry smile. Like she wasn’t already caring about him like he was her own blood.
“I’m sorry I worried you, that I got shot. I didn’t think he would, even though he was crazy. I thought he was still Wade enough.”
Gabriel opened the bottle and took a sip. "He probably still was," he conceded. "Still is," he corrected himself. "I probably shouldn't have said otherwise. I just..." He trailed off, looking at his hands. "You don't expect people to turn like that." Not people you loved, anyway. But this was veering dangerously close to being about his shit.
"I didn't mean to upset you," he said, looking back up at her. "I really just wanted to lay eyes on you and make sure you were okay."
Maya waved away the apology, she didn’t hold grudges when it came to family.
“You got time at all?” She asked instead, picking up and waggling a remote control at him. “There’s new episodes of DogCops.”
no subject
Date: 2024-02-07 02:35 am (UTC)Feelings happened. I'm so proud of them. <3333333
This was a great log, guys. I loved seeing them being vulnerable with one another. And I absolutely adore how their relationship has grown and expanded over the years. Y'all are great.
no subject
Date: 2024-02-07 04:31 pm (UTC)