#the shift in relationship between Gordon and Benrey...

[purplecatghostposts]

Roleswap AU ideas: if you want something big, you could maybe do when the gang first gets to Xen. Or if you want something more low key, could do right after the resonance cascade cuz I'm very curious about how you think Gordon would treat Benrey in that moment

You. *Grabs your face* You are a lifesaver.

Also halfway through brainstorming I went, “hey what if I COMBINED them” so get ready, I’m doing both. In chronological order of course

——

There’s a list of things Gordon expected to happen when he joined Black Mesa as the newest member of the Security Team.

(Ideally, he would’ve joined as a Scientist but Gordon needs more money to put him through college first so Security will have to do. Plus maybe if he does well, he can get a good reputation with Black Mesa and his chances of becoming a Scientist will get higher!)

A few of them come true. Gordon sees real, actual aliens, machines that can accomplish beyond what he’s dreamed, and only becomes entranced with the idea of becoming a Scientist and working with all of this.

A few of them don’t quite live up to his expectations. Namely, it’s hard to make friends. Too many of the Scientists are straight up dicks- especially Dr. Bubby, god, what Gordon would give to punch that man in the face- and the guards aren’t all that friendly either. They’re not quite prickly but most of them just want to get their jobs done, go home, and never talk with anyone they work with outside the workplace.

It’s frustrating but Gordon gets used to it. A few people make it bearable and he falls into a rhythm that’s comfortable enough.

(Years start to pass by. One- three- five now. Gordon has enough money but he hasn’t gone to college yet. His life isn’t perfect but... Can he really uproot it? Will becoming a theoretical physicist really make his life better? Is that really what he wants? Did he already miss his chance at the life he wanted by waiting?)

Everything changes in the blink on an eye. Because in all the things he thought would happen in his time in Black Mesa, a Resonance Cascade was not one of them.

His name is Benrey and he doesn’t have his passport. Gordon knows for a fact that Black Mesa sent an E-Mail and several follow ups a week in advance about this new policy. Everyone else had theirs but this guy- Benrey- claims he never heard of it.

Gordon pinches the bridge of his nose. Company policy dictates that he has to follow this guy around for the rest of the day to make sure he actually belongs here. And Gordon was hoping for an early lunch break that he’s not gonna get. Typical.

Gordon follow Benrey- even into the test chamber which Benrey says isn’t dangerous though Gordon takes one look at the machine buzzing to life and he isn’t so sure. But Gordon continues to stick around, even after the machine goes critical.

Everything goes green. Gordon wakes up in the dust of a ruined test chamber. Alarms blare in the distance, reminding him of the disaster they have on their hands. Benrey’s already up, staring at the remains of a machine with an faraway look in his eyes.

Gordon gets his attention as he stands. “Hey!” Benrey snaps to attention, eyes wide but he relaxes somewhat upon seeing Gordon. “What- what the hell was that?” Gordon gestures in the general direction of the machine.

Benrey’s mouth opens and closes before he eventually mumbles, “S-shit happens.”

Gordon gives him a hard look. “Shit happens.” Gordon repeats slowly. Is he really not taking this seriously? “That’s all you have to say? ‘Shit Happens’- that’s it?”

Benrey shifts in place. The laugh that leaves him sounds almost off but Gordon doesn’t know enough about Benrey to know for sure. “What... What else can I say? I mean, shit like this happens all the time, s’not new, right?”

“I- what?” Gordon sputters, looking Benrey up and down. “No! It doesn’t! Are you hearing those alarms? I’ve worked here for five and a half years and I’ve never seen anything like this happen! This is a Resonance Cascade, Benrey! This is a fucking disaster and you-!”

Benrey’s breath hitches and Gordon doesn’t finish. And you caused it, the thought rings in his ears but he doesn’t say it out loud.

There’s a look in Benrey’s eyes- an emotion that swallows him whole- but Gordon hasn’t the slightest what it is. Because next thing he knows, Benrey is laughing again and stuttering out a, “I have no idea what this is, dude. What’s a... Resident Cascade?”

“Resonance Cascade.” Gordon corrects with a huff. There’s a lopsided grin on Benrey’s face and Gordon doesn’t know how to deal with it. “Fucking- come on. We need to get out of here as soon as possible. We don’t know what damage y- what damage has been caused. Whatever it is, it’s dangerous.”

Benrey waves him off but quickly heads for the exit. “Psh, we can handle it.”

Gordon bites his lip and doesn’t comment on that. There’s a high chance he’s going to be stuck with Benrey for a while and he doesn’t like it.

—

Gordon has a good feeling what’s going to happen long before they enter the portal to Xen.

He knows now. That he’s not human- that he’s never been human. The portal to Xen calls to him like a twisted siren song that he doesn’t want to acknowledge even exists. It crackles with a power that physically feels good but leaves a sick feeling in his stomach.

Gordon knows how this is gonna go. He tries to talk Benrey out of going to Xen but, well...

Benrey hasn’t acted the same since Gordon got his hand cut off. He listens somewhat but Benrey subconsciously holds his gun-arm close to his chest whenever Gordon says a word to him. He no longer trusts him, that much is clear. Gordon doesn’t blame him. He wouldn’t either.

Gordon is the last one through the portal. Benrey is the first, leaping in without much hesitation with Bubby following close behind. Gordon almost doesn’t want to go but he hears the ringing in his ears. Xen has been calling to him for a while now and seeing the portal makes it impossible to ignore.

Gordon enters into Xen. He’s hit with a wave of energy he’s never felt before, even before he makes it to the other side.

It changes him. Gordon doesn’t mean to do it but his body gulps down the energy like it’s starving for it and Gordon grows. His body shifts and morphs and threatens to become inhuman but even if Gordon knows, he holds onto his human appearence. He wants to be human for a little longer. Though he can’t stop how tall he gets.

And Gordon knows now. Black Mesa has been looking for Xen’s main powerhouse for a long time- they told Benrey to search for him. To find their strongest alien and to take it out. Gordon enters Xen and suddenly, he remembers everything. He might’ve escaped Xen a long time ago but his connection to Xen never left. It’s him. Gordon’s what Black Mesa wants gone.

It’s almost funny. Gordon’s been working at Black Mess for years now- they could’ve dealt with him ages ago and would’ve been done with it. It’s a set up to a bad joke that Gordon wants to laugh hysterically at anyways because it’s so goddamn funny, isn’t it? His life has been a giant joke and it’s not even a good one.

Typical. Gordon never had good luck anyways.

It’s impossible to hide when Gordon arrives at Xen. He stands, far taller than any human could ever be and looms over the rest of the team. He stares down at them with tired eyes, knowing nothing is going to go his way. Everyone else backs up upon seeing him, looks of shock and terror on each of them, except for Benrey. Benrey doesn’t move, frozen and staring up at Gordon with wide, unblinking eyes.

Gordon knows the look on his face now. He’s seen it enough times that it makes him sick. In the testing chamber, a few times when they got attacked by soldiers and aliens, anytime they faced an alien far bigger than the rest, when Gordon left him at the mercy of the soldiers, when Gordon saw him again afterwards- Gordon knows that look like the back of his hand, even if he didn’t understand it the first time he saw it.

It’s fear. And Gordon caused it.

“It’s you...” Benrey’s voice shakes, staring up at him. He doesn’t have to elaborate, Gordon knows what he means.

“It’s me.” Gordon nods, resigned.

He doesn’t blame him when Benrey runs.

——

This was a veryyyy fun write, I’m not gonna lie. Thank you so much for the suggestion! If you got another one, feel free to send it! I hope y’all enjoy!

[leroyzboots]

you and i are trying, together.

part one

Benrey's been looking for the opportunity to apologize for...quite some time now, in fact.

Just looking at Gordon and his dripping stump he now has instead of a hand causes his stomach to churn with intense discomfort.

It doesn't help with the nightmares, either.

As if the abuse of the soldiers and the military of Black Mesa constantly swimming in and out of his dreams wasn't bad enough, now they're coupled together with the deep black room where the horror occurred.

They're standing in the mixology lab, Darnold is explaining something to Gordon, when the flashbacks are triggered heavily by a loud bang and mechanical shock from one of the many computers.

Sharp, angry metal poles stick deep into Benrey's neck and fill him with electricity, drawing a long, piercing shriek from his throat that melts into Gordon's rapid wailing.

And then Benrey is crouching on the ground, and the soldier's boot is slamming into his side, crushing and breaking his ribs, and Benrey tastes blood.

He's kneeling in it, the blood pours out from his lips and covers the floor, a massive pool of Gordon's life fluid.

The world is spinning, and Benrey faces Gordon again, and watches as the scientist raises his bloody stump, now transformed into a gun, makes a fist and shoots.

The bullets strike a numbing pain into Benrey's brain, and as Gordon shoves past him, not even sparing him a glance, he expects the daytime nightmare to end.

It doesn't.

Benrey presses his hand to his forehead, the only place the shots entered, and it comes away shaky and covered in wet, sticky red liquid.

Guess that part of it was real.

It doesn't take more than a few seconds out of the lab before the bullets clatter onto the ground and the wound heals.

--

They're barely a few hours out from the Lambda lab when opportunity strikes.

The ground shakes beneath their feet, and Dr. Coomer lets out a little yelp and latches onto Bubby's arm, who grabs onto Tommy's collar as the floor begins to break apart.

Bubby realizes with a horrible jolt that they only have two hands.

The tiles shatter and crumble beneath Gordon's boots, and he grabs at the closest person next to him, which is unfortunately Benrey.

As the hole expands, Benrey catches ahold of the edge of it, and stops himself from falling through, but as Gordon wraps himself around Benrey's pants leg, the combined weight of the man and his HEV suit is too much for one-handed hanging.

They fall.

It's deep, and Benrey tenses as his torso hits the concrete below with a breathtaking amount of force.

Definitely half a dozen broken ribs, a fractured shoulderblade and his spinal cord snaps.

Whatever.

He'll recover.

But Gordon lands feet first, with a sickening crack that causes him to scream and tumble over onto his side.

Benrey heals as quickly as he can, feeling his nerves re-attatch as he forces himself to stand, eyes peering up at the hole they came from.

Tommy's color-splotched face peeks over the edge, so far away that Benrey just barely can make out his features.

"Are you tw-two okay, Mr. Freeman!?" Tommy has to shout the question down at them.

It had to have been a 40, maybe 50 foot drop.

"We're...we'll be fine!" Gordon shouts back upward, his leg clutched between his hands.

"I'll circle around until we find a way back up. Keep...just keep heading to the lab and I'll c-catch up."

"Alrighty, M-Mr. Freeman!"

Tommy's head disappears, and distantly Benrey hears their retreating footsteps.

Gordon winces as he stands and tests his leg, which sticks out at a slightly bent angle near the middle of his shin.

"Dude, it's definitely broken," Benrey notes, and Gordon tenses before making a face of annoyance.

"Right," he groans, "I forgot you're with me."

And Gordon stomps off, far harder than he really should on his leg, and leaves Benrey standing beneath the light shining through the hole.

Sighing, Benrey makes a decision.

He follows, jogging to catch up to Gordon's pace before trailing slightly behind.

--

Gordon is very clearly not doing so hot.

He's limping, and sweating like a stuck pig to the point it's dripping off his nose onto the ground.

Benrey's been watching him carefully, and Gordon....hasn't said a word to him since the beginning.

He's leaned up against Benrey a few times on accident, but not a single sound has been in his general direction.

It's when Gordon stumbles over a fallen chair and whimpers from the pain that Benrey breaks the silence.

"Dammit, man. Alright. Sit down, dude, please?"

Gordon turns, scowling, but the exhaustion on his face is showing.

"Why do you care?"

Benrey pauses.

He could lie, of course, make something up or tell a joke to get Gordon to sit.

But he wants to apologize, and starting it out with a lie isn't..something Benrey wants to do.

So he tells the truth, even if it is hard for him to say it.

"Because I care about you, and we're friends, man. Sit down?"

Gordon scoffs, turning around all the way, and slipping slightly with his broken shin.

"We are not friends, not after you so-sold me out to the fuckin. Boot boys, the soldiers!"

He's not thinking straight, the pain alone is causing Gordon to reach incoherence.

"Yeah, well you led the soldiers to us!"

Gordon opens his mouth to retort, but Benrey cuts him off, barreling onward.

"I wasn't fucking. Angry, like Bubby was, but the dude doesn't know his damn limits, 'aight? So. Had to jump in, you know? Thought it'd be uhhh, funny little prank. Like all, surprise!"

Benrey waves his hands in place, stopping only to take a breath before continuing.

"Well, it didn't work how either of us wanted. They. They uhh."

Blood, his blood is on Benrey's hands and knees.

"They cut your damn hand off. It just..just...they cut it off like butter! Ha, ha haha, butter...and it-it was so much blood and..."

Benrey gulps, and he almost chokes as he loudly mutters the next few words.

"I thought. Thought I'd killed you, you know? Gordo, I th-thought you were dead."

He struggles, and a high pitch of navy blue sweet voice hangs in the air for a second before Benrey goes on, after another deep breath.

"Gordon, I'm really sorry. I know that. That I'm not always your gamer buddy, but I'm sorry. So if you could just fucking sit down, so I can stop watching you die, that'd be fantastic."

Gordon stares, his mouth open just a little, before he sits down, a small groan escaping him as the pressure comes off his leg.

Benrey lets out a sigh of relief, before heading back a little ways to grab the bandages from the medkit on the wall.

Crouching around the chair Gordon stumbled over, he snaps off the middle support piece and tests the sturdiness.

Gordon glances up as Benrey steps over to him, the sweat wiped away and his eyes a more gentle gaze than before.

Benrey kneels, and gingerly works off the protective plate of Gordon's boot before he looks up again, the chair beam in his left hand and the bandages in the other.

"I'm gonna uh. Set the bone. Homemade splint, you know? Tommy. Tommy, he taught me how to do this a long time ago."

Benrey pushes the beam gently against the other's shin, wrapping it down with the bandage near the bottom.

"It's. Gonna hurt, but uhh. S'gonna feel better and you'll be able to put p-pressure on it again."

Gordon takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes as Benrey pushes down hard.

The bone snaps back into place, and Gordon cries out through gritted teeth, but it's over quick and the pain is lessened by a great amount as the security guard before him wraps the entirety of his leg up to his knee.

"There. You should still uh. Rest a bit. Imma lay down."

Benrey gets to his feet, and starts to walk away, but Gordon reaches out and grabs ahold of his pants, stopping him for a second.

".....Thank you."

Gordon lets go, and leans back against the wall and closes his eyes.

Benrey stays in place, watching him carefully until he falls asleep, before sidling down a little ways off to keep watch.

--

Things are definitely better between the two of them after that.

When Gordon wakes up, he's much friendlier to Benrey, without any real hostility.

Honestly? Gordon's glad.

His relationship with Benrey had always been a bit complicated.

Sure, before, Benrey was annoying as hell, but he always made Gordon laugh.

He was nice, someone Gordon's own age for once, and if not someone who he could confide in, a friend.

But then, the soldiers have him, and the pain in his arm is excruciating, and everything Benrey did or does suddenly isn't so comforting.

Convinced Benrey's jokes were meant to demean him, his casual touches and close contact deception, Gordon turned and just kinda.

Let Benrey have the short end of the stick.

But earlier...Benrey tells him he cares, that Gordon's life was always in his best interests, and that they were and still are, friends.

So, it feels good to no longer make Benrey the target of his affliction.

Gordon's about to suggest looking for a vending machine, for some food, when creatures round the corner and attack.

Gordon whips out his gun hand and fires, and vaguely to his right, pistol shots ring off the walls.

The peeper puppies, as Dr. Coomer had called them, bound away from the bullets and circle the pair, releasing their sonic barks and baring their open mouths filled with jagged teeth.

Gordon steps backward, holding his gun hand close to his face to blow cool air on the barrel, the metal radiating pure heat.

Benrey bumps against Gordon's back, hastily re-loading his gun, his face screwed up in careful precision.

But then he turns, and gives Gordon a strained little smile.

A little puddle of happiness forms in Gordon's stomach before the soldiers kick open the underground doors and shoot before they aim.

Gordon finishes off the peeper puppy, then stumbles and shifts his line of fire towards the soldiers.

It's a messy fight, with Gordon constantly limping on his wounded leg, and both sides being attacked by alien creatures.

Gordon's never really seen Benrey fight before, so watching him is definitely an experience.

The way he acts is familiar.

Gordon glances between the reloading gunman ahead of him and Benrey behind him.

The way their hands move over the bullet cartridges, the way both of them hit the side of it with their palm when they're about to reload.

Benrey was trained by the same soldiers shooting at him now.

But the way that they handle guns is the only similarity, because while the military of Black Mesa are ruthless and cruel, Benrey is his own, merciful person.

Gordon fires the last few rounds of his hand before it has to cool down, and thankfully the last soldier drops to the floor.

Benrey is breathing heavily, wiping sweat from underneath his helmet visor, when he pales.

Gordon glances down as something rolls from the soldiers hand to his feet.

A grenade.

Gordon doesn't even have time to react before Benrey lunges, scooping the explosive into his hands and clutching it close to his chest, practically rolling across the ground until he's a good twenty or so feet from Gordon.

He looks back, catching Gordon's eye, and explodes.

Shrapnel bursts from the walls and cracks the paint, debris scatters all around the site and lands in the scientists' hair, who is kneeled over coughing from the dust, his eyes searching the room.

Gordon doesn't want to be alone again, he hates being alone, he hates it.

He turns, ready to head back, and then Gordon wants to vomit.

Benrey staggers, halfway through the revival-respawning process, clearly not wanting to leave Gordon too long.

But dear god.

Half of his body is still skeletal, his entire left side is just an open orifice of bones and muscle.

The bones in Benrey's legs snap together, muscle forming overtop them, before flesh and clothing crawl down to form a whole.

His leg hits solid ground, and it has to be partially startling because Benrey lurches forward, and brain matter slops out of the empty eye socket onto the floor before it vanishes.

His neck cracks, and his head moves jerkily as skin reforms over his jaw and teeth, Benrey's one green eye spinning wildly in place before the tired lid creeps back to hold it still.

A few more disgusting crunches and Benrey is back to normal, passing Gordon now, casually placing his gun back into its holster and moving on.

Gordon blinks a few times, holding back his revulsion for a moment, before chasing after him, through the doorframe into a poorly lit hallway.

"Woah, woah woah man, slow down."

Benrey stops, turning and raising an eyebrow.

Gordon points through the doorframe they came through, gesturing helplessly.

"What. What the actual hell, was that?? You...just, what??"

Benrey blinks, as though he is completely clueless.

He just might be.

"You...you died for me," Gordon finishes, a little quieter than he meant to.

"Uhhh, yeah? Isn't that what friends do?"

Benrey grins as if it's a joke, and Gordon feels the surge of irritation, but also something else he can't quite put his finger on.

"No, it is not something friends do. We do not die randomly for people."

"Yeah. Uh, you do if one of em' can't die. Then it doesn't count, idiot," Benrey says all this casually, in his own, joking around style, but Gordon pauses.

He leans forward, and adopts his casually pleasant expression, but delivers his next question with the tone one would use for a ceremony or a funeral.

"So what happens when I decide to die for you, huh?"

Benrey turns, the smirk still on his face, and opens his mouth to respond with another joke when he stops, eyes wide.

Gordon's....entirely serious.

It surprised him too, but. After the leg wrapping and the grenade stunt, Gordon is. Plenty shocked but pleasantly surprised at how willing he'd be to die for Benrey.

He expects some kind of rebuke, but instead Benrey.

Blushes?

A deep flush goes across his cheeks and his eyes dart away from Gordon's, mumbling under his breath all the while.

Gordon wonders for a second if maybe Benrey's previously irritating teasing had been something else, before he sets off after the guard, a warming smile on his face.

--

Tommy had lied- of course he lied, he had to lie- when he told Mr. Freeman that he couldn't handle a gun.

How else was he supposed to explain without melting the poor man's brain that he was actually an incredibly talented shot, not because of military training, but because he could control the metal?

How was he supposed to explain that through sheer mental prowess, he could morph and create the bullets to go in any direction he wished, never running out of ammo because he could simply will the ammunition into existence?

He didn't want to scare Mr. Freeman away.

Tommy hurries after the Coomers, his long legs easily making distance across the lit hallways of Black Mesa.

Having just emerged from a scuffle with aliens, they were all on edge, wary.

The three hadn't been traveling long, only a couple hours, but worry had already crept down their throats.

Surprisingly, Bubby voices his concern first.

"Do you think they'll get along all right?" They quip, mostly to Harold and himself but to Tommy as well.

"Oh, I'm certain Gordon will make it out just fine," Dr. Coomer replies, cracking his knuckles absentmindedly as a stim.

"And Benrey certainly has always survived whatever Death's thrown his way!"

Bubby nods, but the ends of their mouth turn down with a crease, and he turns to Tommy, who understands their message perfectly.

"Y-yes, Mr. Coomer but! Gordon and Ben-Benrey don't get along together very well."

Anxious, Tommy absentmindedly pulls a spare Beyblade from his pocket and fiddles with the wheels, the soft whir of the toy is calming.

"I'm worried, um, I'm worried! A-about whether they'll m-manage to...to cooperate long enough to survive together."

Dr. Coomer chortles, but the nervous look behind his eyes betrays him.

Bubby shrugs, airing out his still heated hands before speaking.

"Who knows? Maybe they'll work it out and that dumbass will finally tell Gordon how he feels."

Tommy pauses, his mouth puckered.

"Y-you know about Benrey and-and Mr. Freeman?"

"Of course I know, everyone with a damn brain knows," Bubby snorts, then falls short noticing the look on Tommy's face.

"Then you know the kind of trouble th-they're going to walk into."

"Yes," Dr. Coomer sighs, taking Bubby's hand tenderly; "we unfortunately do."

--

Benrey's gotta get those feelings under some goddamn control, because if he doesn't, then.

Game over, you know?

Gordon doesn't seem to understand what he does to Benrey, but it's driving him crazy.

That little thing he pulled back there?

It doesn't help, idiot. Only makes him fall for him more.

But they're both in a good mood, making some distance between them and the last time they saw the soldiers.

It's around midnight by now, and Benrey is ready to go back to sleep.

"Hey, come check this thing out!"

Gordon's excited yell shakes Benrey out of his sleepy stupor, and he hurries over to where Gordon is poking around inside of a barely-lit room, the door frame busted off its hinges in order to access the inside.

Benrey pokes his head in, and his heart slides all the way into his stomach with a horrendous lurch.

This is the room.

He hasn't been here in maybe six, seven or so years, but everything is the same as he left it.

The tube shattered, still connected to the ceiling and floor, the plaque bearing his subject number stubbornly.

The tables, bolted to the floor.

The papers, scattered and ripped, the shelves tipped over and splintered beyond saving.

"What do you think happened here?" Gordon asks, kneeling by the tube in examination of something long discarded on the floor.

Running his hands over the metal table, fingers brushing the shackles, the memories return to Benrey.

Shock collars. Sweet voice tests, hours or days or weeks locked in his tube, sick of breathing the containment fluid.

"I...I know what happened here."

"Er, what? I'm sorry?"

Gordon looks heavily confused, and reluctantly, as if this place will never let him go, Benrey lets go of the chains and shuffles over to the tube.

Taking off his badge, he holds it up to the tube plaque, both bearing the same text.

B3_NY

#7037

Gordon stares, his eyes wide, before turning to the guard.

"I thought that was like, your serial number. They...they made you here?"

Benrey swallows his anger, tossing the badge to the ground and going through the next door.

"They did more than just make me."

It's all still there.

The room is lit only from above, with a dim lightbulb buzzing meekly in its socket.

The long metal bed sits in the center, almost beckoning to Benrey with omnicity.

One of the only scars Benrey has, the precise incision made jagged by struggle, prickles on his back at the sight of it.

He just stands, biting back tears as Gordon goes around the room, looking through boxes, his scientific curiosity never satisfied, until he finds something.

He's not looking, Benrey is not looking at whatever Gordon has clutched in his fist.

In his hurry to get out of this awful room, he slams into the metal table, pushing it into the wall with a reverberating crash.

Benrey drops to the ground outside, shaking and clutching his helmet, with shuddery sobs echoing around him.

He's trying to shut out the memories, but the knives are in his back and Gordon's blood is on his hands and the lightning is in his skull and it's all so terrifyingly loud.

It's a few minutes before Gordon comes back out into the hall.

Benrey goes rigid as Gordon sits down beside him, but he makes no effort to push the subject.

Benrey relaxes, just a little, lowering his hands and leaning against the wall.

A heavy warmth wraps around his hand, and as the guard looks down, he realizes Gordon's hand is on top of his right.

Gordon is purposefully not looking at him.

Heart in his throat, Benrey slowly turns his hand palm upward, and Gordon laces their fingers together.

They're holding hands.

They're holding hands and Gordon looks a little sheepish, but he's smiling fondly and his cheeks are flushed.

Benrey stares, and then cautiously leans into Gordon's shoulder, his helmet clunking quietly against the plate of the HEV suit.

Gordon doesn't let go, and Benrey falls asleep tucked close to his warmth and their hands clasped together.

[goatbi]

Dancing Rings

The thing about the proposal was the timing. Everything was completely perfect, one hundred percent, and Gordon knew just how much time Benrey had spent researching how to do it right. Alien customs, at least with Benrey, meant that there was no higher relationship there, just that they were together when they were, and not if they weren’t. Simple. 

Marriage was a big step. Gordon enjoyed being married, before it fell apart before, and wanted that again. He never told Benrey this, didn’t want to feel as if he was pressuring him, but Benrey proposed all the same. 

It just so happened that it came a month before Bubby and Coomer’s wedding. 

Which wasn’t that big a deal! Honestly, Gordon was happy about it, but he worried, as he always did, that Bubby, specifically, might feel as if the spot light was stolen from him, which Gordon thought fair. He and Coomer were getting married in a month. Gordon could wait a little bit to announce it. Benrey seemed to understand, promised he’d keep quiet about it, even if he was excited. 

They both were. The moment the ring was on his finger, Gordon knew he wouldn’t be able to take it off, having found a weight he had been missing for awhile now. 

He took to standing in ways to hide it, hands crossed over his chest, holding onto Benrey’s hand, one hand behind his back, whatever it was. Somehow, some way, they never noticed it. An entire month, they said nothing of it, and Gordon felt he could get through a second month, just to put a good amount of space between their wedding, and the proposal announcement. Give them time to settle into it and all. 

The ceremony was wonderful, exactly as the two had envisioned it, with Gordon standing as both of their best man, G-Man officiating the entire thing, which Gordon should not have been surprised about, and yet somehow was. Tommy had been the flower person, which he had been quite excited about, and Dr. Feelgood, somehow expertly trained, had been the ring bearer. It was honestly adorable. She even had a little suit on. 

They had the reception in Tommy’s house, nothing big, but still able to just hang out. Gordon was telling a story, after Coomer had asked about Joshua, about something Joshua had done at school a few days ago, and, as he did, was talking with his hands, wide sweeping gestured that he kept just enough in check to not smack someone in the face. Benrey had gotten up for a moment, wandering off to find more soda for the group, when it happened. 

Gordon didn’t notice, but Coomer’s eyes caught his hand. They narrowed slowly, before reaching out and snatching his hand from the air, dragging it closer. Bubby, half in Coomer’s lap, had to shift to for him to do so, and grumbled about it, but fell silent upon seeing what Coomer did. Gordon squeaked, almost falling with the force that Coomer unintentionally used to drag his hand towards him, eyes going wide when he realized what was going on. 

“How long have you had this?” Coomer asked, and Gordon tugged at his hand carefully, though Coomer did not let go. “I swear you haven’t had this long.” 

“Well, I...” He looked up as Benrey came back in. Benrey looked between them for a moment, as Coomer and Bubby glanced over. Coomer looked back to Gordon’s ring, but Bubby slipped out of Coomer’s lap, half to the floor before straightening. Benrey froze like a deer in headlights, before going to bolt. Bubby still managed to catch him, and, with Tommy’s help, dragged him over to the couch, were he sat next to Gordon, one arm wrapped around him. Gordon looked back at him. “You almost abandoned me to the wolves.” He muttered. 

“I’m sorry, I thought we were waiting to tell them.” Benrey said back. 

“We were! Coomer just-” 

“I saw it!” Coomer finally relinquished Gordon’s hand, but to Bubby instead, who also took to inspecting the ring. It really wasn’t that intricate, two bands that seemed woven together, a golden one and a silver one, with a line of gemstones across the top, a bright pink slowly shifting to a light blue. What they couldn’t see was the inscription on the inside, which simply read ‘pink to blue means i love you’. Gordon wasn’t sure he could handle it if they saw that too. “Why weren’t you going to tell us? How long?”

“Coomer-” 

“Come on Gordon.” Bubby passed his hand along to Tommy, and Gordon began to feel he would never get it back again, leaning forwards a bit to let Tommy be able to see it. “Just answer the question.” 

“A month.” Benrey said, and Gordon’s eyes flicked half behind him towards Benrey, who shrugged. “They already know.” 

“A month!” Gordon finally got his hand back, as Tommy let go in shock, and he crossed his arms in front of him, hand tucked under his arm. “Why did you hide it from us?” 

He wondered, for a moment, how he was going to explain his thought process. There was a lot there, really. 

“Well, I just... I thought that, before your guys wedding, it would seem... kind like stealing the spotlight? And I didn’t want to do that, so I thought, we’ll tell them afterwards, not too soon after of course, cause this is still your time, I just-” 

“Gordon.” His nervous rambling was swiftly cut off. They had gotten really good at noticing when it was his anxious rambles, versus just general rambling, and they had all gotten good and cutting him off before he spiraled too far. He looked to Bubby, who was staring back at him. “You got engaged a month before the wedding. I think it would have been safe to tell us then.” 

“Well... It just seemed close, and I didn’t want you guys to think-” 

“Gordon.” He fell silent again, half pouting at Coomer, who smiled at him. “It’s fine. This is wonderful news!” 

“I told him it would be fine, but, uh, sometimes you just gotta go with it.” Benrey spoke up from Gordon’s side, and Gordon turned his half-pout at Coomer to half-glare at Benrey, despite pressing himself against Benrey’s side. Benrey smiled at him, pressing a kiss to Gordon’s forehead. “It’s fine enough with me. If he wanted to keep it to just us for a bit, than whatever.” 

“Now you guys know, but it’s today, of all days for it to come out-” Gordon began to work himself up again, but, again, they managed to stop it before it fully started. 

“I don’t really care that much, Gordon. It’s still our wedding day, and it’s not like you proposed on the day or anything.” Bubby shrugged, and Coomer nodded at his side. 

“It’s wonderful news! Congratulations!” 

Gordon found himself going red, and slowly turned his head into Benrey’s face, ignoring the laughter coming from him in the first place. Benrey wrapped his arms around him, and, hidden in his chest, Gordon smiled, slipping one arm free from where they had still been crossed over his chest and wrapped it around Benrey in return. 

“Hey, I have to uh, say.” Benrey spoke up, and Gordon snorted. “I’m the one who proposed. That was me. I did that.” Gordon’s shoulders shook in laughter, and he felt Benrey’s chest rumble in the same way, as Bubby began to needle Benrey as he did, and they settled back into calm. 

[kogo-dogo]

Coming off anon to say i am living for all of this Oozrey discussion !!! Thanks u for your super detailed response about eating habits and I would LOVE to hear you talk about Ben and Oozrey’s weird relationship!! The chapter where Gordon talks to Ben is I think is one of my favourites, just for all of the concepts it introduces and the imagery. The whole concept of like ‘wearing a human consciousness like a lens so as to be able to decipher and interact with human behaviour’ is so interesting !

I will gladly take this opportunity to talk about Benjamin Reyes, the world’s worst acolyte for an old god!

First of all, to really understand the weirdness behind Ben and Oozrey, you have to understand Ben.

Benjamin Reyes is (was?) a 29-year-old Black Mesa security guard who’d been working at the facility since his early twenties. He ended up on the Blue Shift despite being a known slacker, got in trouble with his superiors a lot because he took the easy and sloppy way out of situations, and really only was saved in terms of employment because of how long he’d been there. He had no spouse, didn’t get along with his family, and has a sparing number of friends. The friends he had weren’t exactly the best of friends; the type of friends to take your last cigarette or drink your last beer.

He never really outgrew his frat boy-ish tendencies, and was kind of a grating gamer-type personality. Well meaning, though. Just because you’re annoying, lazy, and kind of dumb doesn’t mean that you’re a bad person, after all.

Benjamin Reyes was also an easy target for Oozrey. He wasn’t the most attentive and he wasn’t the most social. Wasn’t paying attention and wasn’t near anyone when he was grabbed. Oozrey swallowed him whole, and Ben became a databank he could draw from to learn how to interact with humans. However, he also clashed majorly with Oozrey’s existing personality and consciousness, creating a sort of... anomaly.

Benrey is kind of a... weird combination between Oozrey (whose real name is Cxoiqualothith) and Ben. You have this obnoxious but well-meaning security guard who is randomly antagonistic and seems to swing between extremes. He talks a lot about things he doesn’t seem to understand. He says things that make no sense. He often seems legitimately confused about what’s going on around him. He has fucking god-like powers and cannot die.

Sure, when you’re talking to Benrey, you’re technically just talking to Oozrey, but there’s so much interference it’s... not even funny. 

But, Ben himself isn’t dead. He’s alive. He’s basically trapped where Oozrey “catalogs” things, in a pocket dimension adjacent to Oozrey’s home. He’s vaguely aware of what’s going on around Oozrey at any given time and is very privy to his thoughts, but he’s not present.

In this pocket dimension, though? It’s basically a blank slate. And a lot of Oozrey’s powers deal in the alteration and warping of realities and, seeing as Ben is a part of him now, he could dip into that reserve to make whatever reality he wanted for himself. Ben, however, is not very smart and human to a fault, so he’s pretty sure he’s dead. Sort of.

He’s dead-ish, and so he presents himself as a corpse or a skeleton because that’s how he perceives himself. He’s also fucking convinced that staying inside Oozrey will keep him from dying “for good,” and so he’s figured out that the secret to immortality is just throwing in his lot with the creature he lovingly refers to as “The Big Guy.”

Oozrey has... attempted multiple times to explain to Ben he’s not dead. To explain to him that, in exchange for his help in deciphering humans, he’ll basically let him do whatever. And the most Ben did with this information is recreate his Black Mesa dorm, watch ESPN, and still assume himself dead.

Oozrey actually feels kind of bad for the guy, haha. The two talk frequently and get along very well, and Oozrey almost views Ben as the closest thing he has to a friend. Hell, maybe even an actual friend. The first friend he’s ever had.

And Ben views Oozrey in this weird... antagonistic-but-reverent light, where he basically is like, “You fucked up by eating me, but we’re cool now so I guess it’s fine. You son of a fucking bitch.”

You could make a really fucked up sitcom about them, is all I’m saying.

(For the record, after HRV, Oozrey has enough knowledge of humanity from his ~mind meld~ with Gordon and has offered Ben freedom countless times. Fucker still won’t leave. Oozrey is more stable now so he doesn’t particularly mind, but Gordon finds it kiiiiiiind of weird.)

[kraviolis]

lost in the in-between (or so it seems) - HLVRAI

Chapter: 1/5 Rating: Teen Relationships: Benrey/Gordon Freeman, Gordon & The Science Team, Background Bubby/Coomer Words: 7k Additional Tags: Post-Canon, PTSD, Nightmares, Sleep Deprivation, Panic Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Not A Game AU, Paranoia, Accidental Date Chaperoning, Zoo Day, Autistic Tommy Coolatta, Touch-Starved Gordon, Emotional Breakdowns, Romantic Relationships Are Not The Focus Content Warnings: Panic Attack, Drinking, Not Safe Decisions Summary:

(Sequel to “you gotta wonder what it meant”) It’s been a few weeks since their escape from Black Mesa, and Gordon is struggling with nightmares and intense panic without really understanding why. Everything feels like an uphill battle these days, and Gordon’s forgotten that asking for help is something he’s allowed to do and that his friends are ready and willing to provide it. 

AO3 LINK

____

“Gordon?”

Gordon jumps in his seat, jerking his head to look at whoever had said his name. He meets Dr. Coomer’s eyes, wide and uneasy. “Sorry, I just— what were we talking about?”

Gordon looks around the metal table, adjusting his head slightly to get the sun out of his eyes. Sunkist makes a soft whine from under the table, and everyone has paused in the middle of their meals. Bubby and Tommy are staring at him just like Dr. Coomer, all with varying expressions on their faces.

Bubby is frowning in annoyance at him. “Well, we were talking about how I’ve never been the zoo—“

“But then you started staring off into space and— and we got worried!” Tommy interrupts, clear concern on his face.

“Are you alright, Gordon?” Dr. Coomer asks him, his brows furrowed in worry.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” He assures them, a smile easily plastering on his face.

“Are you sure?” Bubby raises an eyebrow sharply in his direction.

“I’m sure.”

“Do you swear?” Tommy presses, putting down his fork that still had a bite of waffle on it.

“I—“ He frowns and blinks. “What’s with you guys? You usually take everything I say at face value.”

“You were staring at your omelette for a very long time, Gordon!” Dr. Coomer tells him. “It was rather worrying!”

“Guys, I’m fine. Honestly.” He sighs. “I might not be getting much sleep but that’s all—“

“Are you having nightmares, Mr. Freeman?” Tommy asks, pressing his knuckles to his mouth. “Nightmares about Bl-- Black Mesa?”

Gordon stops and looks at Tommy, tilting his head curiously. “Uh, yeah, actually. How did you know?”

“We’ve all been having nightmares.” Coomer tells Gordon, pressing his fingers together rather nervously. Tommy nods a confirmation.

“Not me.” Bubby states plainly.

“Oh,” Gordon blinks. “Why not?”

“Dr. Bubby was never built with the ability to dream!” Coomer informs him cheerfully.

“So, what, do you just do the thing where you wake up and it feels like no time’s passed at all?”

“Correct!” Dr. Coomer exclaims. “It’s the most efficient way to sleep!”

“Yeah, I guess it is. I’m a little jealous right now, honestly.” Gordon rubs at his facial hair with a small smile. “Though, it’s kinda sad to not have any dreams at all. They can be pretty fun sometimes.”

“Just rub it in, why don’t you?” Bubby crosses his arms and scowls.

“Don’t make fun of him for not being as privileged as you, Gordon! It’s bad form!”

“Ye— yeah, Mr. Freeman, that was kinda mean!”

“I was just—“ Gordon takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Bubby. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“Oh, you didn’t, but I forgive you anyways.”

“Right.” Gordon deadpans, and stands up. “Look, I gotta get going, guys, I have to keep looking for job openings. Thanks for brunch.”

He doesn’t have to reach down to give Sunkist a pet, the dog had been laying nearly under the table at her master’s feet but had perked up when Gordon stood. He grabs his leather jacket from the back of his chair and picks up his sunglasses from next to his half eaten omelette and empty coffee mug. He pauses though, and looks up to see all of them continuing to watch him carefully.

“What?” He asks, frowning. He tries to make eye contact with them individually but they all look away before he can. “What?”

“Mr. Freeman…” Tommy trails off, looking more concerned by the second.

“Are you really, very sure that you’re alright?” Dr. Coomer looks up at him almost shyly.

“Yes. I told you guys— what is this? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“We’re just worried, Gordon.” Bubby says, sinking into his seat more. “You’ve been pretty out of it, recently.”

“Wh— dude, I just said—“

“We know you said you are but— but this has been going on for a while, now and—“ Tommy looks away again while blinking rapidly— and suddenly Gordon’s rising frustration fades instantly. Sunkist looks up at Tommy and shifts slightly so that her face is leaning on her master’s lap, nosing at his fidgety hands.

“Hey— Hey, I’m alright, Tommy!” Gordon puts his hands up and waves them around in an awkward attempt to console him. “I’m fine, okay?”

Dr. Coomer gives him a somewhat skeptical look. “Gordon...“ He trails off but doesn’t look away.

“Look, I just— Yes, I’ve been having nightmares but I’m a grown man. I pay bills, I have a doctorate from MIT in Theoretical Physics. I can handle a few nightmares.” Gordon sighs heavily, trying to let go of the tenseness in his shoulders. He attempts to put on a reassuring smile for them. “It’s nice to know that you worry about me so much, but I’ll be okay, guys. Really.”

The three of them share a glance at each other, communicating silently. When they look back to him, Bubby is the one who gives him a short, sharp nod. “Alright, then.”

“If you say so, Gordon!” Dr. Coomer smiles back at him.

Gordon’s own grin relaxes into something a little more genuine. He looks to Tommy, who is still fidgeting in his seat and avoiding eye contact. He glances up, once, before it falls back onto Sunkist. He gives him a gentle pet on Sunkist’s giant head and scrunches his eyes up for just a second before finally looking up at Gordon again, an unusual mixture of sternness and worry in his expression.

“Do you promise that you’re really okay, Mr. Freeman?” Tommy asks him, his voice low and quiet, obviously forcing himself to hold eye contact.

Gordon deflates a little, that firm pressure on his chest returning ever so slightly. “Tommy…” He murmurs, taken aback by his seriousness. He inhales. “I promise.”

Tommy shakes his head and brings his hand up, his little finger carefully extended. “You— you gotta pinky promise! You can’t ever break a pinky promise!”

Gordon raises an eyebrow and looks to the other scientists at the table. Bubby shrugs.

“If you break a ‘Pinky Promise’, you’ll be hunted by the entire U.S. Military and shot down like a rabid dog!” Dr. Coomer confirms cheerfully.

“Didn’t we kill them all?” Bubby points out. Coomer pauses for a moment to process this.

“If you break a ‘Pinky Promise’, you’ll be completely safe from the nonexistent U.S. Military— but you will be thoroughly shamed by all of us for lying!”

Gordon snorts and chuckles under his breath. He hesitates for just a second but he eventually hooks his right-hand pinky with Tommy’s, who perks up immediately.

“I pinky promise that I’m okay.” He says, and Tommy’s pleased grin lights up his face. They bob their hands, shaking on it, and Gordon pulls away to start putting on his jacket. “Now that we have that sorted, I honestly do have to go.”

“See you later, Gordon!” Dr. Coomer waves at him.

“Yeah! Bye, Mr. Freeman!” Tommy cheers.

“Is he going to finish this?” Bubby points at Gordon’s leftover omelette.

“I’ll see you guys later!” Gordon waves over his shoulder and walks away. He hops on the back of his motorcycle (parked just down the street from their brunch spot), replaces his normal glasses with his prescription sunglasses, and takes off.

He gives one last wave as he passes by their table and drives away feeling heavier than he has in days.

Gordon knows he isn’t exactly doing perfect. The fact that he even looked them all in the eyes and lied about it makes it all the more difficult in his attempt to contain it.

The nightmares… they weren’t normal nightmares. Not the kind he knew how to deal with, anyways. His throat would be hoarse when he woke up, flashing images still pounding against his skull like fists against a cage. He tried to forget about them the next morning but he was just so tired all the time, it was getting harder and harder to keep himself on track. The actual content of them varied, he never knew what to expect, but it was always horrifying enough to make him restless for the entire day.

For the past 2 weeks he’s been plagued by this— this shit and everything he’s done in an attempt to fix it has done nothing. They didn’t even start to happen until three days after—

After.

Gordon bites back a frustrated groan and clenches his right hand harder on the handle of his motorcycle. God, it’s like he can’t go just thirty minutes without thinking about fucking Benrey and Black Mesa and the week he spent in hell. He just wants to be able to live in the present, to be able to stop and smell the fucking flowers just for once in his life--

But he can’t. He can’t because that heaviness he’s felt, that distant feeling of dread, hasn’t gone away.

Gordon is losing his mind— again— trying to figure out why. Why he feels sick to his stomach all the time, why he can’t get a good night’s sleep anymore.

Why he can’t get rid of that invisible pressure on his ribcage like something is pushing down on him, trying to hold him in place.

Why he can’t stop thinking about that night— seeing the tenderness in Benrey’s face melt into the closest thing the man had to fury.

(Benrey was like a brick wall to him at first, but now he’s practically an open book.)

(He really does not want to think about why that is.)

Gordon wants to move on and forget about Black Mesa, about Benrey, but every single time he finds himself alone and sitting in silence his thoughts always drift back.

He thinks about the grin Benrey gave him when he agreed to play video games with him. He thinks about the pure joy he saw on his face as he threw his head back and laughed so hard at Gordon’s baby raging. He thinks about how it took only minutes for him to check on him, the concern in his voice through the door, his carefulness, the way he tensed before melting into his touch, the way he was swaying when Gordon leaned closer—

Gordon thinks about the expression on Benrey’s face as he was calling him out on the damn mind fuckery he was throwing at him and he feels like he wants to throw up.

He remembers how he just stood there, after Benrey had slammed the door in his face like a child. He’d just… stood there. His hands shaking and his heart pounding and the fading adrenaline making him feel woozy. He had stood there and stared at the door as if he would come back, as if his giant head would phase right through to taunt him, as if he would see a skeleton in the corner of his eye.

He’d stood there for a long time.

Benrey didn’t come back.

So he’s here, just trying to forget about it. Forget about him. Write it all off as a PTSD nightmare and ignore the physical evidence that he was ever even there.

To Gordon, Benrey was dead.

(He wasn’t and you know it.)

Benrey was fucking with his head again.

(The look in his eyes— would he be able to fake that kind of hurt?)

Benrey left, he left, and he’s not coming back.

(Please, God, come back—)

Gordon shakes the thought from his head and grits his teeth. He doesn’t have time for this. He needs to be thinking about anything else but this. Everything’s gonna go to absolute shit if he doesn’t get his head on straight.

He— he can’t get caught up in all this shit. It happened and it’s done with and he needs to move on. He can’t change what happened but he refuses to let the past control him like this. Gordon fucking refuses.

He’s putting his foot down here and now. The past is in the past. Taking back control of his life is what he needs to focus on. Keeping up with his commitments and responsibilities. Not letting himself spiral. Forcing himself to forget it all. There’s no point in hanging onto this! None! He got out and he’s safe and his friends are safe and he’s back to living his life to the fullest.

Alright. What does he have to do?

He needs to do more job searching, maybe buff up his resume. Dr. Coomer had mentioned that they needed a new physics professor at the state university in the city— he could get in contact with them. He was a TA for a short time while getting his PhD.

Oh-- Joshua is visiting for the weekend, and it’s Thursday. He needs to clean the house and pick up juice and snacks for him.

He takes a deep breath as he stops at a light and exhales long and slow. Okay. One step at time, he’s gonna get back on stable footing and leave everything else behind him. He’s moving on and forgetting about all of it.

He’s ready to take it all on.

———

When Gordon gets home the next evening he shrugs off his suit jacket, drops his wallet and keys in the bowl near the door, loosens his tie, and faceplants into his sofa with a groan.

That job interview went so shit.

He’d zoned out seven times in 15 minutes, asking multiple times for the interviewers to repeat the question, and had literally fallen asleep while waiting. He’d had a nightmare the night before, and something in it was so visceral and terrifying that it’s been stuck in his head all day. Curling in his gut like a parasite and making him jumpy.

(He had been back in Black Mesa, in it. Alone. Utterly alone.)

(The worst ones are always the ones where he didn’t have anyone watching his back. No one to distract him from the real horror that was happening. The things that he did, too.)

(No one with him as he stares into giant, dark eyes and struggles to fight against something so much bigger than he could ever understand.)

Despite all his preparation— he’d laminated his resume and ironed his suit with a pot off the stove because his steamer had gotten jammed, goddamnit— they’d told him they would call him in a tone that actually said that they would not be calling him.

Gordon groans again and reaches up to tug the hair tie out of his hair, throwing it on the coffee table, letting his hair fall to his shoulders. This was the third damn interview that he’d fucked up this month. He was going to run out of options and start applying for jobs that he was far too overqualified for. Maybe he’d have to throw his MIT doctorate in the trash because that’s all it’s fucking good for, apparently!

“Graduated summa cum laude and this is what I get,” Gordon laments to the empty house. “Nightmares about alien dimensions and a non-recyclable radiation suit that’s just a glorified pile of paper weights.”

He sighs. That was a good joke. If only someone was here to laugh at it with him.

(Benrey would have laughed.)

Gordon doesn’t have the energy to even be upset that he’s come back around to Benrey. He just feels so, so tired. Everything seems so… small, compared to what he’s gone through.

Maybe he should rob a bank. Gordon huffs out a single laugh at the thought, but still tucks it away for a rainy day.

The laugh melts into a sigh. It’s been weeks. Weeks and weeks of this. Rejected applications, failed job interviews, ignored calls and giving out resumes like candy on Halloween. He sees Joshua on the weekends, has Skype calls and brunches with the Science Team and even Darnold, once— but everything else has been nothing but pain and frustration and more pain. Something’s gonna make him snap one of these days.

Gordon presses his palms into his ryes. He needs— he needs a fucking break. A break from job hunting, from resume editing, from being a dad, from any and all reminders of Black Mesa. Like a cruise, or a vacation to somewhere tropical, or just a night out.

Gordon sits up a little.

That’s… not a bad idea, actually.

He pulls himself up fully and feels something almost like excitement bubbling in his chest.

Oh, this is a great idea.

It takes some time for Gordon to get ready. He hasn’t done this in a long time— not since he graduated and moved out west for his fancy new lab job. It’s downright exhilarating to be going through the motions again, the small little routine he’d been so fond of ever since he was an undergrad.

Gordon goes through his closet, finding his favorite— and best— outfit he’s ever owned. He has to squeeze into it a little but it’s just as incredible as he remembers— all dark navy with gold accents and a small splash orange. He gels his hair back, puts the ponytail back in, trims his beard, and trades the glasses for contacts.

When he’s done he leans back in the mirror and gets a good look at himself. Shirt buttoned down just enough to be classy and attractive, the gold studs in his ears, and flashy watch. His eyes unhidden from his glasses and with just enough mascara to make his lashes pop without it being obvious.

Gordon smiles at his reflection and strikes a few poses, giggling like a maniac because of how incredibly giddy he was to doll himself up like this again. He realizes how much he missed it now, and makes a silent promise to do it more often.

“Damn, I look nice as fuck.” He laughs, pulling out his phone. “I have to send a pic to the—“

He pauses, though. Wasn’t this supposed to be his night off? No more reminders of the bad shit, and — even if they didn’t mean to be— Tommy, Bubby, and Dr. Coomer were all living, breathing reminders of the bad shit.

Gordon hesitates for a moment, frowning. He settles to take just a couple pictures of his outfit and send one to them tomorrow.

Tonight, he’s letting himself forget.

———

When Gordon steps into the club’s doors, he finds his smile turning into a wide grin.

The bass from inside the club can be felt from outside, each thump echoes in his teeth and rings in his ears. The music is loud and the lights are flashing bright, neon colors are everywhere and constantly moving.

Rainbows adorn nearly every wall, every Mardi Gras necklace, every drag queen, every bead bracelet. The smell of sweat and alcohol is so strong and makes his head swim (painfully) pleasantly, he already feels drunk on just the feeling of being one with the crowd.

Gordon expertly maneuvers right to the bar, ready to calm that already-building (terror) anxiety in his gut with something sweet and fruity. He carefully avoids touching someone completely covered in glitter and orders one of the more expensive cocktails.

The drink is perfectly sweet and fruity and warms his stomach in such a comforting way. He smacks his lips and grins and gives the bartender a generous tip before leaning against the bar.

He stands there long enough to finish a second drink and get started on a third. Just watching the crowd, feeling the music in his chest and letting himself float on the (terrifying) euphoric feeling of being (trapped) encased in a crowd of (potential enemies) people.

Gordon sighs happily.

(Gordon sighs timidly.)

“Hey.”

Gordon (snaps) turns his head to look at the person addressing him.

They’re tall— taller than Gordon by a good couple inches— with a face Gordon can’t come up with a descriptor for other than very, VERY handsome. Their voice is deep, baritone, and they’re wearing a simple but rather catching outfit.

Gordon smiles at them, the warmth in his stomach making him feel bold (tense). “Hey.”

“I haven’t seen you around before— you new in town?”

Gordon laughs (nervously) a little. “I live here, I just don’t get out much. My schedule usually doesn’t give me much free time.”

The stranger grins and pretends to sigh sadly. “That’s a real shame— you’ve got such a nice face, you should be able to show it off more.”

Gordon’s face warms at the flirting and he quickly takes another gulp to (drown) encourage the (anxious) pleased feeling pooling in his abdomen.

The two of them begin to go back and forth, the stranger flirting more and more and Gordon slowly unraveling and relaxing.

It’s so refreshing to just have a normal conversation like this, no having to answer 5 year questions or herding the other person around in some attempt to stay on topic. He can say something funny and get a laugh instead of blank stares and a cut off greeting. He can flutter his eyelashes and watch them do the same and see them pick up every single signal he’s giving them without any misunderstandings.

(He feels guilty just thinking this— all he’s doing is blaming the Science Team for things they can’t help and things that don’t even really bother him.)

His heart rate kicks up when the stranger leans in a little more and opens their mouth— just enough for Gordon to pick up their intentions. Gordon tells himself that it’s just attraction. He’s attracted to them, they’re attracted to him, it’s all so flattering (nauseating) and overwhelming to feel a mutual attraction like this after years.

(Except he knows what attraction feels like and it’s not this—)

(Except there’s no butterflies, no warm pools, no slow motion effect, no startled inhale when he touches them gently, no softness or tenderness in their expression as they don’t look at him all wide eyed and red-faced—)

(Except they’re too tall, too slim, too nice, too gentle, too normal—)

His face flushes in delight (shame) as he wets his lips with his tongue. They smile a little as they watch him do it and they move a little faster

(He looks into their dark brown eyes— so different from icy blue— and sees only hunger.)

Gordon leans forward just as they do, closing his eyes. The warmth is his stomach is heavy and anchoring.

(The warmth is gone. There’s nothing but dread left.)

Their lips crash into his and it’s so— unceremonious, so anticlimactic. It’s cold and robotic and it makes his stomach clip into the floor. They’re pressing a hand to his jaw and chills are going down his spine as he just methodically goes through the motions.

(Would it have been just like this, he wonders? Or would it have been better— nicer?)

(It would have been better solely because of the fact that it would have been him Gordon kissed.)

His jaw moves and his head tilts just enough and he moves his hand from their hip to their waist and he feels wrong.

(They taste like rum and coke and Gordon wishes it was blue raspberry.)

It’s over just as quickly as it started and Gordon shudders as they pull away. He gasps sharply and pants, blinking rapidly as he opens his eyes. His mind is foggy— Why is his mind so foggy? He needs— it’s just the alcohol, he just needs to drink more—

He withdraws from touching them entirely— putting a finger up when they begin to question— and shakily reaches for his drink before tipping the rest of it back. It burns now and he chokes on it, swallowing forcefully and wheezing. He leans heavily on the bar and swallows again, his mouth watering as his stomach lurches.

The room is spinning— round and round again and Gordon can feel his heart pounding against his ribcage, desperate and crying for more oxygen and he’s trying— he’s trying so hard but his lungs aren’t fucking working— he can’t breathe— he can’t see—

Something grabs him by the arm and forcibly drags him away from the bar. He stumbles, grasping onto whatever it is in a desperate attempt to stay standing when his knees begin to give out.

His head is throbbing so painfully and his vision is swimming and there’s a voice in his ear saying something but it's so far away, now—

The cold October air hits him like an explosion. Every single cell in his body flinches when he is pulled outside, but it feels like his mind clears up in a single instant. He gasps again and can’t repress the relieved sob that forces its way out of his throat as he’s gently sat down on the pavement.

Gordon tries to breathe in the fresh air but his lungs stutter and he sobs again and he’s crying— fuck, he’s crying—

“Come on, guy— just breathe, in and out.” The stranger tells him with a gentle hand on his back. “It’s okay. It’s fine. Just breathe.

He does what they say but God, this is so humiliating. He hates this, he hates that he’s fucking doing this in public, he hates his fucked up brain and his stupid lungs for— for not even doing what they’re supposed to.

Gordon presses his palms into his eyes and shudders out a breath before swallowing and trying again. He follows the stranger’s lead, trying to match his breaths to their own exaggerated ones.

Eventually— when he has a more solid grip on his breathing— he leans his head against the exposed brick against his back and keeps his eyes closed. The cold wind bites at his damp cheeks and goes right through his clothes.

“Hey, you back with me?” They say jokingly and Gordon grimaces.

“I’m sorry,” He blurts out. “God, I’m really sorry. About everything. I didn’t— I’m— I’m sorry, I should just— go.” He stands up slowly, leaning heavy against the brick, willing his legs to stop shaking.

“H— hey, man—“ They call after him, but he ignores them as he walks away. He can’t— he can’t stand being in their presence anymore. The shame burns his throat and his face— if he fucks up anymore tonight he’s not sure he could take it.

So he walks away. Down the alley and out onto the packed street, each of his steps is harder than the last. Gordon walks for a while just to get his legs to stop feeling like jelly and to sober himself up. He can barely think past the burning shame, so he tries not to.

When he finally flags down a cab, his fingers are numb as he settles in the back seat.

The car ride is silent and suffocating, the sound of pop music makes Gordon’s head throb. The driver doesn’t say anything outside of asking for his address but Gordon can feel their judging eyes pressing into him. He ignores them and watches out the window the whole time. He looks at his reflection and sees the black streaks running down his face and not-so-subtly rubs them away. The driver continues to keep silent.

When he gets home, he stumbles out of the cab after shoving a couple bills into the driver’s hand. They speed off and Gordon’s left standing on the sidewalk in front of his house.

He slowly walks inside, going through his ritual as if he was on autopilot. Keys, wallet, shoes, jacket. He makes his way into the bathroom and goes through his ritual there, too. Contacts, ponytail, shower.

Gordon turns the water on as hot as it’ll go. He doesn’t wait to step in once he’s got his clothes off, letting the icy water slowly warm as he just... goes through the motions. Body, hair, face.

Until he’s left standing under the steaming spray, burning into his skin. Not willing to get out just yet. And so he has no other choice but to think about it.

That— that was a stupid idea.

Gordon drops to the floor of his tub and brings his knees to his chest, ducking his head between them. The shower rains hot water onto him.

What the fuck was he thinking?

Gordon isn’t a young, dumb, childless college kid anymore. He— he can’t be doing shit like that! He can’t be going out just to kiss strangers before he even tells them his goddamn name— he can’t believe he let himself act so recklessly. Tonight could have gone so, so much worse if he hadn’t had that panic attack.

What even was the point of it all? It wasn’t just to have a break and he knows it— he knows his brain, Gordon knows that there was something else—

(Icy blue eyes and a startled expression and so soft, so soft—)

He wants to tear his fucking hair out.

Why? Why why why? Why him? Dear God, why does it have to be Gordon that has to deal with this— this shit. He’s a good person! He gives out his spare change, he compliments strangers, he puts things back on the correct shelf if he changes his mind— he doesn’t deserve to have his head continuously fucked with!

It’s such bullshit for Benrey to have left for good and for Gordon to still have to put up with his stupid mind tricks. He doesn’t want to think about him anymore— he doesn’t want to want him anymore! Every fucking time he closes his eyes Gordon sees his stupid fucking face.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it? It’s Gordon’s fault this keeps happening— his brain refuses to dream of anything else. It’s just nightmare after nightmare of Benrey, Benrey, Benrey. His own goddamn brain isn’t even on his side here.

He sighs and digs his fingers into his arms. Being angry doesn’t fix anything, though. He can be angry and upset all he wants but it won’t make anything better. He has to suck it up and do something about it. There’ll be time for anger later.

“C’mon, Gordon, think.” He urges himself on. What can he do? How does he fix himself? How does he stop the nightmares— how does he stop thinking about Benrey?

Gordon almost laughs when he realizes the easiest solution to this issue.

He just needs to stop sleeping.

No more nightmares, no more fear— in fact, it would give him more time to do the things he needs to! And, yeah, it wouldn’t— couldn’t last forever, but it’ll be okay for a little bit. Just enough time to find a more stable solution. He knows that from experience while studying for his doctorate at MIT.

Plus, it’s not like he necessarily needs to sleep every night like he did in Black Mesa— he has abundant access to the good ol’ combo of sweet, sweet caffeine and taurine.

He leaves the shower and gets dressed in casual daywear instead of something comfy— he can’t risk falling asleep, after all.

He makes a pot of coffee and gets himself a mug to enjoy at the lovely hour of eleven at night.

It has to have some sort of Pavlov effect on him, because the second he sits down at his computer with a cup of coffee and damp hair still resting on his shoulders his brain shifts into productivity mode. Gordon gets right into working on various cover letters, writing emails, sending voicemails and editing his resume as the time passes. He drains his cup and refills it a lot as he works, taking small 5 minute breaks to watch the coffee drip.

It’s not until he goes to make more coffee and finds an empty canister does he stop to look at the time. When he looks to his oven clock he frowns and double checks the clock on his desk. The same time. That— that can’t be right. If it really was that long— it’s only been 3 hours at most.

He quickly goes to his living room window and opens the curtains and is blinded by sunlight.

Gordon blinks. He— did he really just spend the entire night getting shit done? A laugh bubbles up and out of his chest.

“Holy shit,” Gordon grins. “This— this is fucking awesome.”

Practically bouncing on his feet, he grabs his keys and wallet to head to the closest convenience store. He pauses for a second and decides to grab the keys to his shitty station wagon— the one he bought off Craigslist when Joshua had been born.

Gordon greets everyone he sees with a wave and a smile when he goes into the small gas station store. He makes a b-line straight to the coffee and grabs a big container. Then, he catches sight of the energy drink section.

As he deliberates on which flavors to get, his phone rings. He jumps a little, startled by the sudden noise, but quickly fishes the phone from his pockets and answers without looking at the Caller ID

“Gordon Freeman.”

“Good morning, Mr. Freeman!” Tommy’s voice comes through clearly, and Gordon smiles at it.

“Hey, Tommy! What’s up, man?”

“Oh I’m just— just on my way over to Dr. Coomer’s and Dr. Bubby’s house!” He tells him. “I’m so excited for today! It’s gonna— It’s gonna be amazing!”

“Oh yeah?” Gordon hums as he grabs a couple blue-colored Mountain Dew Amped Game Fuel cans. “Why’s that?”

Tommy pauses on the other side of the line and Gordon frowns. “Tommy? You okay?”

The man laughs. “Oh! You— that’s a good one, Mr. Freeman! You— I almost— I thought you’d forgotten about taking us all to the zoo today!”

Gordon chokes on his own spit and proceeds to hack out a lung. “Nope!” He wheezes into his phone. “Nuh— hrg— no way! I’d— I’d never forget that!”

Gordon tucks the phone in between his shoulder and face begins to frantically grab snacks off the nearest shelf.

“Yeah! I would— it’s— I would hate for you to forget and miss out on all the fun we— that we’re gonna have!”

“Yeah,” Gordon squeaks. He grabs a cooler and starts throwing sodas into it. “We— we wouldn’t, uh, wouldn’t want that! Nope!”

“...Are you feeling alright, Mr. Freeman?” Tommy asks. “You sound strained!”

“I’m fine,” He hisses through his teeth as he drags the cooler to the front and throws his card on the counter before running back to grab a bag of ice. “I’m— I’m just— exercising! Gotta— gotta keep up my daily routine!”

“Wow, I didn’t know you have an exercise routine!”

“Yep!” He huffs out, dropping the bag on the counter and leaning against it as the clerk scans all the soda and snacks. “Gotta stay fit! You know how it is— anyways, what um— sorry, what time did I say I was picking you guys up?”

“In fifteen minutes!” Tommy tells him, and Gordon’s smile becomes manic as the clerk continues to slowly scan each soda. “Oh— Hi, Dr. Coomer! Hi, Dr. Bubby!”

Gordon hears Bubby and Coomer greet Tommy as he supposedly arrives at their home. “Listen, I’ll see you in a few minutes, okay Tommy?” He says as he struggles with inputting his pin number.

“Ok, Mr. Freeman!” Tommy says. “See you soon!”

Gordon hangs up and shoves his phone into his pocket. He thanks the clerk and lugs everything out to his car, thanking the universe for granting him this one pass of him taking the car to the store instead of his motorcycle. He gets the cooler situated in the back— now full of ice, soda, and snacks for the team— and hightails it towards Bubby and Coomer’s home.

It takes only ten minutes to arrive when it normally would take twenty.

Gordon does not know how this happened. He will not talk about how this happened.

He pulls up to the pair’s home and sighs heavily, sinking low into his seat as he watches Tommy, Bubby, and Coomer all meander up to the car.

“Hello, Gordon!” Dr. Coomer greets him, taking the passenger seat.

“Hey, Dr. Coomer,” Gordon greets him, exhaustion creeping into his voice.

“Hi, Mr. Freeman!” Tommy smiles as he climbs into the back.

“You got here early, Gordon.” Bubby says.

“Yep,” He replies, popping the ‘p’. “I brought some snacks, by the way, so that we don’t have to buy mediocre and overpriced bullshit—“

“Is there soda?” Dr. Coomer lights up, looking to Gordon as Tommy and Bubby begin to root around in the back for the cooler.

“Yeah, I got—“ He hears the dual crack of soda cans and sees Dr. Coomer’s head snap to look at Bubby and Tommy so fast that Gordon wonders if he broke his fucking neck for a second.

“My dear Bubby!” Coomer gasps, scandalized. “Are you drinking a Soda without offering me one?”

“N— No! I was just— opening one for you!” Bubby insists and shoves the open Pepsi at Coomer. “Here!”

Coomer doesn’t hesitate before guzzling the entire thing and crushing the can in his hand like a grape. “Oh, Professor, you’re always so thoughtful!”

Gordon doesn’t miss the quiet, dejected grumble of “It’s doctor,” from the backseat, followed by a third can being opened in penitence.

Gordon can already feel that they might not all make it out alive from this trip. He sighs and pulls onto the street.

Half way into the car ride— while Bubby is trying to convince Gordon why he should have the aux cord— Tommy makes a curious noise and holds up an energy drink.

“Mr. Freeman, is this yours?” Tommy asks, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Oh— yeah, can you hand it to me?” He reaches back with his right hand and the can is deposited into it. “Thanks.” He purposely ignores the worried looks from Tommy and Coomer and sets it in the console cup holder.

At the next light, Gordon cracks it open and chugs half of it. He’s never preferred energy drinks but sometimes you need the most caffeine you can get— and this one has double the caffeine content over a cup of coffee.

“Gordon?” Coomer asks quietly from the passenger seat as he wipes his mouth with the back of his left hand.

“What’s up?” He replies, trying to keep his eyes both on the road and on Coomer.

“How did you sleep last night?”

Gordon hunches his shoulders slightly. “Fine. I slept fine.”

“Really?” Tommy presses, skepticism obvious in his tone.

“Yes, really.” Gordon rolls his eyes. “Look, guys, I know I mentioned the nightmares a few weeks ago but I’m fine. Seriously. You don’t need to check on me over every single thing.”

“I— We know, Gordon—“

“I know you’re just worried, I get it, but please no more pushing this? If I wasn’t okay, I’d— I...” He trails off. He can’t find it in himself to keep the lie going. He sighs again. “Just— stop nagging me. I know I’m the youngest but don’t— don’t treat me like I can’t take care of myself.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Fr— Gordon.” Tommy says first, wringing his hands. “I— I shouldn’t have tried to push it.”

“You’re as right as ever, Gordon.” Dr. Coomer says. “I’m very sorry.”

“I didn’t say shit, I don’t have to apologize.” Bubby leans back with a bag of sour patch kids and a soda. “You’re a grown man, Gordon, you can fill your body with as much garbage as you want.” He punctuates this with a sip from a regular Mountain Dew.

Gordon smiles in relief. “Thanks guys.” He tells them genuinely, his shoulders relaxing.

The rest of the ride is pleasant. Bubby continues to vie for the aux cord but Tommy’s reign continues with begrudging acceptance when he plays some kind of peppy, anime-sounding song that makes all three of them cheer.

Gordon grins at their antics. His chest buzzes with something light and happy the whole time and he doesn’t notice he’s bobbing to the beat until Bubby shoots him a smirk when he glances into the mirror, but he doesn’t seem to want to stop.

They arrive at the zoo and get a good parking spot. It’s way early and a weekday to boot, so it’s not packed at all.

Tommy makes sure that everyone has sunscreen applied and they all pass the bottle around until they’re all up to code in his eyes. Coomer recites the Wikipedia article on sunscreen as they do and then offers to carry the cooler until Gordon shows off it’s wheels and extending handle.

Gordon pulls out a brochure from the center console of the car and begins to go through his plan for the day but is cut off by Bubby saying “Can we just go? I want to see the fucked up birds they have!”

“Now, Dr. Bubby,” Coomer approaches the man and begins to fiddle with his clothes. He dusts off Bubby’s shoulders and adjusts his leather jacket’s collar. “I know you’re excited for your very first zoo trip, but we have to make sure we have enough time to see every exhibit! I’m sure Gordon has thought it all through very thoroughly.”

Bubby blinks and looks down and away from Dr. Coomer, his shoulders going up to almost his ears. “I know,” He says, almost submissively, his face pink, before his expression morphs into a sneer— directed towards Gordon. “I just think my own plan would be better, but if Gordon wants to play the leader again that’s fine. Just don’t fuck it all up.”

Gordon lets the barbed comments slide as he tries to process what the fuck he just witnessed. Was— did Bubby— Gordon’s not even sure he saw that interaction correctly or if the Mountain Dew Amped Game Fuel is fucking up his head even further.

He takes one glance at the half-empty can, chugs the rest of it, and decides to completely ignore all of that for now.

“Alright, team,” Gordon calls out, replacing his normal glasses for his sunglasses. “Let’s rock ‘n roll.”

[ask-benrey-in-the-void]

Bro Error person!!! You just stopped Gordon and Benry's touching moment!!! Homophonic >: C Btw that's a hole error person I know you aren't homophobic :>

[An awkward silence fills the air. Benrey shifts uncomfortably and Gordon can’t seem to say much while Error Message pauses for a long moment.]

>[ERROR: ...I’m Getting A Feeling I Interrupted Something Important.]

>[ERROR: Unfortunately I Can’t Afford To... Leave Exactly, But I Can At The Very Least Give You Two Some... Privacy. For A Moment.]

[Gordon sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. Benrey looks nervous in every sense of the word.]

Gordon: That would be great, thank you.

[Error Message dips their head slightly before walking away, putting some distance between them. Gordon turns back to Benrey, sucking in a breath. Benrey beats him to it.]

Benrey: uh just wanna say

Benrey: there’s no pressure about like. feelin’ the same

Benrey: bc you can’t control that n i get that

Gordon: Thanks and uh...

Gordon: Shit, I’m sorry I just-

Benrey: s’okay i understand-

Gordon: No- Benrey- it’s not that I don’t feel the same way or anything, I... Fuck, I don’t know what I feel?

Gordon: I never thought about it- I know for a fact that I care about you and I don’t want to do anything before I know if that’s in a romantic or a platonic sense

Gordon: Can- Can I think about this? Soak it in? Try and gadge where I stand?

Benrey: yeah of course

Benrey: long as you need

Benrey: this wasn’t me trying to pressure you into a relationship or anything just...

Benrey: i wanted to say somethin’ y’know?

Benrey: if anything happens, i’d rather not die still keeping all my feelings trapped inside

Gordon: You’re not going to die. None of us are.

Gordon: But... I’ll get back to you, alright?

Gordon: And we’re... Cool until then?

[Benrey smiles softly. Gordon visibly relaxes upon seeing it.]

Benrey: ‘course

Benrey: now lets figure out what ol’ error message wants

>[Error: You Two Have Sorted It Out?]

Gordon: Yeah, come back over here

[Error Message returns. Benrey looks over the glitching model and frowns to himself. Something about them is familiar.]

Gordon: We got questions

>[ERROR: I’d Be More Disappointed Than A Child Getting No Presents For Their Birthday If You Didn’t. And I Imagine You Aren’t The Only Ones.]

>[ERROR: By All Means, Ask Away.]