[fraser]

[finally_ahead]

The night stretches on, bloody and claustrophobic, and awful. When the morning comes and they get out, when there's been reunions and a hospital trip, time moves double. Even the waiting, when it comes, flies by, and that might be for a dozen different reasons.

And maybe Stan's too tired to be as deeply re-traumatized as he ought to be, or comfortably numb, but he thinks it's just as likely that it's the same reason he makes sure that as the last of it winds down, he makes sure that he's next to Fraser.

"Hey," he says quietly, nudging Fraser a bit further from any lingering group, "don't go back to the Home. Come back with me. We'll make someone talk to them. I mean, if you-- you shouldn't have to go back alone. We can do sleeping bags or," and God, would he be any better at talking if he were less tired? He'd like to think so. "I'd feel better about going to sleep if I knew you were there."

Comments

[juststrange]

"Okay, good," he said, dragging the collar of his shirt into his mouth and chewing restlessly at the already fraying cotton.

"I smell," he observed, nose wrinkling. "Like rat shit. I'm never going back to a Törgt again."

[finally_ahead]

Stan looks up from where he's trying not to doze against Fraser's hair, having a vague faith he's relayed all of his messages without major error. "You don't smell that bad," he says, and the implication is that Stan wouldn't lie about this. "But maybe a shower would be good."

And then he blinks, slightly aghast.

"Do you think I'm fired?"

[juststrange]

"Do you care?" Fraser said, giving him a skeptical look. He couldn't imagine them being able to pay him enough money to go back in there.

At least not for a few weeks.

[finally_ahead]

"I think it would be rude to fire me over this," Stan says, rubbing his eyes. "But, yeah, point taken."

He's utterly, deeply grateful when the cab actually arrives and he can pile in the back with Fraser for the ride home. The driver looks at them oddly, but Stan guesses the guy has seen worse, as they leave without issue. He watches the streets move by, staring blearily out the window.