revivalproject | [Open] These Broken Pieces Of Life

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[Open] These Broken Pieces Of Life

WHO: Tommy Shepherd, Open
WHERE: Young Avengers HQ, The Diner, The Greenhouse, The Beach Cave Hot Springs
WHAT: Returning to Temba, Broken Down Home, Farming, Failing To Hide Emotional Pain.
WHEN: August 1st through 15th
WARNINGS: N/A

I. Another Ruined Home | Young Avengers HQ

Freedom. Sunlight. A sandwich made of greens and beautiful vegetables from the greenhouse. A meal that was doing nothing to make what was before him any better. Home, for the last several years... Broken.

"Fucking hell," he grumbled around his mouthful of baconroom wrap. "Because when it fucking rains..."

It fucking poured. The roof was busted open, the door fallen off, and he could already see through the opening that their shared living room space was fucked. And now Tommy had no choice but to hope that things would be fixable. That he could bring out the things that mattered until such time he could have his home and his life back.

"Fat chance that, with my luck."

II. Moving In Day | The Diner

It's only temporary, Tommy tells himself as he pushes into the Diner and puts the heavy box in his arms on the table. He's so tired after all of the work of cleaning the HQ out. Fuck, he just hadn't wanted to deal with that today.

"Tea," he decides, moving to the counter to fish out the kettle so he could fill it with water. Once he's got the thing full and his hand near it to start heating it, he looks to the door in the corner that he never really used. One of the two sets of stairs that led up into the apartment that was once Eli's. A space that hadn't been used in years.

"Home sweet home I guess. But damn, how am I supposed to get a new bed up the stairs? They're narrow!"

III. Whistle While You Work | The Greenhouse

Stressed? Frustrated by the turn of events? Need to feel accomplished in life? Have you ever considered Farming(tm)?!

Tommy groans at the voice running stupid infomercials in his head as he enters the greenhouse, grabs a basket with pruning sheers and gloves from the door, and looks around. The green, the smell of plants, the familiarity of this place... It's strangely soothing to Tommy. Like coming home. Perhaps it was, given no one had put as many years of care and attention into this place as he had.

And this? This was the place he remembers. Tommy immediately moves to the first area where he should have been harvesting already and sets into it. And he pauses only when he hears motion.

"Someone there?" he calls out, looking around. Strange. Not many people came here like he did.

IV. The Calm Is A Lie | Beach Caves Hot Spring

He didn't come here often. There was always the risk he'd turn the wrong way and end up in the crystal rich parts of the minds. Super charging his powers right now was not something Tommy was particularly keen on. It would only make all of this decidedly worse.

Caution was the watch word as he moved through the caves, hand on a wall, until he could hear the water and feel the heat. The springs. A place to soak sore muscles, and he'd been sore as hell since they'd headed underground. No amount of sauna could have helped with it. Now Tommy didn't hesitate for even a second to strip out of his clothes and slip into the almost too hot water.

"Fuck," he mumbled once he was settled into it. It felt so good. So freeing. So nice.

"Fuck," he repeated as he felt a sting in his eyes. It's just from the heat of the water. It's from how hot it is, turning his skin a little pinker. That's it. He's not crying. He's not crying.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"That is a bit like how it started, Billy. Of course it's a bit like that."

And honestly, he's gotten good at soups. And okay at porridge now that he's got the grain for it. Though he laughs. Billy's got no clue. Tommy will always wander at night.

"You would think that, but when you sleep four hours on a world with thirty hour days, you spend a lot of time wandering."

What he doesn't do is take the soup. What he does do is flash out with lightning fast speed and stop the player before the tape is too damaged.

"And that needs fully opened and everything reviewed. Okay. Finish eating, we'll head upstairs, and this thing is going to obey my will."

Soups are good. They're filling and have potential to hit all the food groups that are needed. Especially for people built like Billy.

The player is frowned at, and it clicks open for him to take the tape out. It comes out with some of the trying to stay in the deck, but with some finagling, Billy gets it all out. It feels like it's mocking him, for his ill deed against Harrington. This was just all the more reason to try and be better. So he stopped having stupid shit like this happen to him as a sort of punishment from the universe.

But he can't linger on it. They may be gone from the Calibrations bunker, but Tommy had left an impact on his mind there. There were so many other things he could do instead of just lingering on the bad shit right in front of him. "I'm done with the soup," which was true because he had lost his appetite. "But I'll leave it there in case I get hungry again. Show me the upstairs."

"I'll get my brother to fix that," Tommy promises. Apparently he's going to need to use a second replicator ration to take care of the guy's thing. But he supposes it's his own fault for fucking it up.

"Alright, man," he says, folding up his tools and tilting his head for the stairs. "Let me go up first. I can react faster if the floor caves or something."

ANd that might be a concern. He doesn't even know.

"Uh no, I can wind it back up with my finger." And he could use one of his rations, Tommy. All you have to do is ask. He rubs his hand on his cheek, trying to keep the edge of his frustration dull. The warm in his belly at least keeps him soothed, and he knows cleaning will give his frustration an out.

"Fuck that. Lead the way. I'm following you." He doesn't even care if Tommy goes zooming up the stairs because either way, Billy is going to follow him up there. "Falling through a floor wouldn't even be the worst shit I've endured at this point."

Oh Billy, you clearly haven't known Tommy enough if there might even be the potential thought that Tommy might ask for something he needs rather than going without.

"Yeah, sure. Okay," Tommy says with a sigh. And for the first time he opens the door and starts cautiously up the steps. Without his box. The stairs creak a little but they don't give and that's definitely a relief.

"It would be pretty bad in my books because I don't want someone I'm helping out getting hurt because of me. That's the opposite of helping."

Billy takes a longing look at the tape player, then follows Tommy up. The stairs also creak under Billy’s weight, though more since he has more weight than the other. But the stairs still don’t give.

Not that Billy was worried.

"If I’m not allowed to get better alone, then you’re not allowed to go testing floorboards alone, Shepherd." There’s teasing in his tone punctuated with his boots on the steps.

Tommy was worried, he was prone to that when he could be leading people into danger, and he saw this as effectively danger. And then he’s at the top of the stairs in the studio loft and sneezing a bit.

“Excuse you, who is the one with catlike reflexes here, Curls?” He asks as he steps into the area fully and looks around. Looks like the bed is still around. And amazingly intact. Some furniture too. Table, two chairs, a lamp. Huh, hadn’t thought that would happen.

"So does that make you a pussy?" comes the teasing taunt. He climbs the last of the stairs and covers his mouth to keep from breathing in the dust. No one’s lived here for awhile for certain, like the beach cabin.

The dust floating up keeps him in the doorway. His mind remembers the strange world he saw before being flayed. When he speaks, there’s a noticeable strain on his voice. "You got any face cloths?"

"I'm a tomcat if I'm anything."

But damn it's bad up here. Tommy sighs.

"Yeah. We can repurpose some dish towels. Hold on."

And he's off back down the stairs.

When Tommy goes downstairs, Billy is as hot on his heels as he can manage. Maybe he should’ve opened some windows first, at least start airing it out, but the dust feels suffocating. "Give me one and you go open the windows up there. Then I’ll start… I’ll start cleaning."

Billy couldn’t back out now. Not when Tommy was doing what he could with Max‘s Walkman. "Gimmie a second." Because he still sees that strange world with ash snowing around them, the red clouds, and his doppelgänger.

He slams out of the diner and presses his forehead against the wall of it. Breathe in, breathe out. Think of meditation like Gladio was talking about.

Breathe in, breathe out. Again.

The ash clears away from his mind and he starts to calm. The other world wasn’t here.

"You still don't' have to, you know. Clean."

But down in the kitchen he grabs one of the clean towels and passes it over. Because he knows Billy's the sort that won't back down.

And then Billy's bowling on out. Tommy shrugs. Worst comes to worst, he loses his towel. He won't judge. For now he leaves the tape player on the counter, along with his tools, and heads back on up to get windows open and start dusting.

"Yeah well," he starts when he comes back in and raises his voice to let Tommy know it’s him. Boots thump against the steps as he heads back up after snagging the towel around his face. "Some tomcat told me in my head that he does shit like cleaning and gardening to show he can be better."

He goes over to Tommy, pushing him away from his spot and snagging the cloth out of his hands. "I think his name is Tommy or something boring like that." And he twists the cloth before snapping the end of it at Tommy’s ass.

Wow man. So rude. Using his own words about how he fills the gap in time and proves his value to the world against him. But there's Hargrove, all in his space and pushing him aside and everything else. Of course he dodged (at his centimeter away motion he is prone to) the snap of the cloth before laughing.

"Oh shit man. Is this that over the top testosterone fueled jock fumbling for some higher rung on an unimportant social ladder BS I've heard of? Thought that was only in movies or something."

Lies. He was in high school. This shit still happened. He was a bonafied formally shoved into a locker a few times small poor kid once. This was hilarious to see happening in real life though.

As for him he stands back, hands up as if to say 'not gonna touch it'.

"Electronics and tons of dust don't mix. I'm gonna give that thing a proper clean and once over, but I have to do it downstairs. Back in a minute?"

Was it using Tommy‘s words against him? Or in Billy’s favor for being a better person? Doing things like this meant he could check on his sponsor after the month vacation in a bunker, and get his tape player fixed. Usually a situation similar to this at home would have him bristle and snarl, push back against his dads orders a bit but not here.

Billy was choosing to help.

He sticks his tongue out before throwing the cloth at the speedster. "No, it’s just fun. Go fix my tape player, I promise not to burn your precious diner down while I’m up here."

"Sure, casual application of stings and barbs is so fun," he rolls his eyes but he is smiling. "And seriously, if you can burn this place down in a literal minute, that would be impressive."

"It's better than other shit I could try to do. Like shoving you out of the window or something. A little rat tail isn't terrible."

The cloth is grabbed and cracked again at Tommy, though he knows it probably misses. Laughing despite it all, he makes sure the wrap around his face is secure before taking both cloths to really work at the dusting. Rapid dusting, like he's going to try and start said fire with the friction of it.

And he loses himself in the cleaning. It's like a meditation, like Gladio had mentioned. Easy to focus on something else as he works over the chairs and table. Over the lamp. Some of the bed which gets its linens stripped off and set on the table.

He finally takes a break and sits on the window sill with one leg bent up on it and the other balancing on the floor. There's too much in the way so he can't see the beach, but it's nice knowing it's out there at least.

"Cute to think that you could even begin to shove me anywhere I don't allow, Curls," Tommy grins and chuckles.

And once more he dances so very gracefully out of the way of the towel, smiling. Dude, keep it up and he's going to actually start to waltz out of the way. Do you need that man? But with Billy clearly intending to get to work Tommy heads downstairs for his work.

He takes a clear table, takes the tape player apart, and has it back together in a minute flat. The thing has been entirely cleaned out, as close to new as a thing can be, and Tommy's certain he found the problem (a tiny pebble caught under one of the two rotating pieces).

Of course he heads up immediately, intending to hand it over. Except when he hits the top of the stairs on quiet feet he sees Billy there, truly caught up in it. Stands there watching and smiling because the guy seems fucking focused. Probably should help, but instead he goes downstairs to work on something else. And just as he finishes and comes upstairs he catches sight of Billy in the window.

"Here, a snack," he says, moving to offer the guy a plate of... Well, that's definitely the closest he's managed to street tacos here. The veggies look wrong, the meat isn't quite chicken, the seasoning is just the tiniest bit off, but clearly he's figured this one out as well as he can for an alien world.

Billy won't admit it out loud, but he likes the nickname. Curls. His have gotten more wild over the months without his usual product, but he hasn't really...noticed. Or cared outside of a few passing thoughts of it. The blond wishes he had a pack of smokes.

Probably not a good idea anyways. He would accidentally start a fire with all of the dust.

He's just pulling the face mask down to get some actual fresh air when Tommy appears with a plate. Brows furrow over a confused look as he takes in what looks like street tacos but... not quite right. "Street tacos? I guess as close as you can get to them?" He picks one up and sniffs at it before taking a bite.

Who cares if they're wild. They look good. They look wild in a way that makes him look free and untamed. Nothing wrong with that. Or maybe Tommy's just drawn to people with curls. Hell, his last boyfriend had them.

"As close as I can get. Sorry about no crema. Hilariously those little pink fruits on the side? They taste a lot like lime. So you can squeeze them on top if you like that."

He takes the sheets and balls them up in his hands. There's no washing machines because no ships but he can get these done pretty easy himself.

"Hey man. Thanks."

Then they match Billy more now than they did back home. He almost runs his hands through them, but stops because he knows they're filled with dust. Whenever he's - or well, when they're done dusting, he'll have to go shower. Or maybe just strip down and plunge into the ocean when he heads back to the cabin.

A smirk and a nod. He squeezes one of the little fruits over the food, then takes a bite. "Holy shit. They do taste like lime, what the fuck." But he eats it because it's actually pretty good in spite of everything.

"As long as this means you don't pout about your other home since you've got this one for now." Because Tommy was doing better than he was, but he had more time to do this 'be a good person' thing.

Nothing wrong with the exterior matching the interior at times. And yeah, he wouldn't be the only one bathing later. Tommy would just risk the hotsprings. But for now? Now he yeets the sheets at the door by the stairs.

"Damn right. I've been spending years finding the foods that taste the most like home to me, okay? Including buying new things to cultivate back home. If it was the season I would have minced up this sugarcane like stuff that I kid you not, tastes like buttered corn."

As for the rest, he really does look around. This could work.

"Place is smaller than I thought actually. Doesn't fit the footprint downstairs. Starting to wonder if there's some storage space up here. If so, I could definitely store extra supplies. But whatever."

Moping, huh? Tommy sighs and scuffs a foot against the floor before grabbing one of Billy's dust rags and going to wipe down a wall.

"I'll keep moping, sorry. That place was home. Wanda and Vizh lived nearby, while they were still there. Teddy lived with us for a while too, when he was here. But I'll make do what what I get. Pretty sure my bro is going to shack up with someone, so he's outgrown me I guess. That's fine. And hey, they're wall space for the painting right here, good view from the bed, so I'll be fine."

Billy gets it. He hates that he gets it. The other place Tommy had been living was probably the equivalent of Billy's home in California. Torn away from both of them before either of them had a chance to defend it. But he watches that foot scuff the floor before the white haired guy goes to clean the wall. Thankfully most of the dust is off of that one, so the ashiness isn't as prominent.

He takes another few bites. He listens. Billy realizes he doesn't really know much about Tommy outside of the fact he was at super-juvie and didn't like being called a freak. "Volcano really changed everything," Billy finally comments quietly. "Where are you from back home anyways?"

Truly, he doesn't know a lot at all. Because Tommy doesn't open up easily at all. Especially when he's supposed to be taking care of someone else.

"Definitely did. My idiot brother and Stark tried to stop it. Like fucking geniuses. They tend to forget we can't do that here, not like at home. We're not living on our own rules anymore."

When he gets the wall clean enough he nods. Yeah. Here. He'll need a nail and picture wire for a change. But he'll have his family with him.

"Born in Springfield, New Jersey. But also sorta Leonia, New Jersey. It's complicated. Of course neither of those will make sense to you. Springfield is hard to reference, but if you've ever heard of the George Washington Bridge, Leonia's near the western approach to it."

"Ew, east coast." It's said with a teasing tone, because Billy still has that sense that something is wrong. And he's starting to think losing the other home here in the city had a big factor in it. "You're a jersey devil. Explains a bit. But I don't know anything about the east coast though, so I don't know what bridge you're talking about."

And honestly he wasn't that interested in New Jersey or the east coast.

"And your brother and whoever the Stark guy is, they'll have to learn they can't save everyone or everything."

Tommy snorts.

"The Jersey Devil lives in the Pine Barrens. And Leonia and Springfield are not near the Barrens at all. As for the devil in me, I can't help where my soul comes from man. But I promise, it was washed and probably dry cleaned first."

He smiles as he says it, looking at Billy, spinning it like a joke. It is a joke. It's a joke wrapped around a nugget of truth.

"The GW is one of the major bridges into New York, man. And trust me, we've so passed learned that. Learned it the hard way when Asgard fell. Which is a really insane super hero story so I doubt you'll believe it or care. Finish eating up. I should go set the sheets to soak and grab a nail really quick."

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