bakerstreet | over a drink

[It was the smile that really did it for Dex. Maybe he could have kept control, but with the expression this guy had on his face, the fine, thin strand of control inside of him just completely snapped.]

You want it, pal, I'll gladly give it to you.

[And with that, he picked up the drink that had been sent his way, and threw it right at Carver's head.]

[ Oh, thank God. Carver ducks instinctively, the glass sailing just past his head and impacting somewhere already forgotten. He's moving even as the bartender yells, kicking his stool over and snapping a blow for the side of the other man's goddamn face.

This is easy. This is pure. For a few precious minutes, he can stop thinking. ]

[He was in his element when it came to being in the middle of a fight. Whether in the middle of Iraq or some dive bar made no difference to him. All he knew was that it helped to quiet the voices in his mind, his focus narrowing down to the simple goal of either incapacitating or killing his opponent.

He wasn't expecting Carver to move as fast as he did and so he got hit across the face. Dex was always best at a distance, so he tried to get some between himself and the other man, retreating back until he was behind some table and chairs.

[ Carver doesn't know a thing about this man except how he moves and doesn't care to. But the fucker's fast and he doesn't spook even as he backs up, putting distance between them. Not out of fear, though. There's something calculating in this one. Like a soldier, maybe.

Good, Carver thinks. He misses soldiers. And he just moves advances, kicking a chair aside, and motions with his hand. ]

C'mon, now.

[ Make it interesting. ]

[Dex got into the usual rhythms that played out in his mind as he got into the fight. He couldn't help but rise to the challenge when the other man clearly wanted to see what he could do. Dex glanced around and snatched a handful of darts for a game that a few customers must have abandoned earlier in the night.]

Do you like playing darts?

[Dex wasn't one of those supervillains that made a lot of quips. People didn't realize there usually wasn't time for those in the middle of a fight to death. But he couldn't help but make that one just before he lobbed two of them one right after the other at Carver's chest.]

[ Well. That's a new one.

Carver does, actually, like darts. It was something to do back in Afghanistan or when he and the others were stuck in the barracks, a way to test themselves and waste a little time without the sort of resulting property damage that'd get Sergeant Shaw roaring at them. And now there are two little darts sticking out of Carver's chest, neat as you please.

Good throw, he thinks absently. His adrenaline's running hot, treating him sweet like a brother or his very best friend; nothing hurts. But now this fucker's gotten a touch more interesting, not just some stoic-faced white guy itching for a fight he doesn't know how to finish.

No, this one might actually be good.

Carver grins. He tugs the darts out and lets them fall without looking, grabbing an abandoned beer mug and advancing on the other. The bartender backs away, looking disgusted."Oh, fuck this! Carver, you're banned! Get your ass out before I call the cops!"

It's just noice. He ignores it and darts in quick and brutal, feinting with a glass to the other guy's head but instead Carver drops low for a leg sweep. Just because, just to see what happens next. It gets like that sometimes. He just has to push, quiet the noise. Whatever it takes. ]

['Tough bastard', Dex thought distantly, to get stabbed twice and keep right on going. Most people would have flinched or definitely backed down, which told him that this guy wanted this fight just as much as Dex himself did. He also moved fast, which is how Dex fell right into the trap of keeping his eyes on the guy's hands instead of focusing on the rest of his body. That meant he got taken down when his legs were swept out from under him. He grabbed blindly as he went down and a table overturned with him, creating a loud noise.

Patrons who hadn't been paying attention were now either heading for the door or started to become invested in the conflict.

There was a smashing noise that signified a number of glasses had been taken down with Dex when he'd fallen. Fortunately, he hadn't landed on any pieces. Looking around, he did see some shards large enough to suit his purpose. He picked them up by the sides that were least sharp and then started throwing them at Carver. This time it was first at his legs and then his arms. He could feel that darkness inside of him now, the part of him that just wanted to hurt and kill until it was satisfied again and would calm back down.

[ Over the years, Carver's met sharpshooters and a couple assholes who were real handy with a pistol - to the point where they'd win beers and unsecured gear off their fellows for pulling off batshit insane trick shots on a whim, or at least until the sergeants got wind of that nonsense and made them do PT until they all puked. He even knew a corpsman who could balance a butterfly knife on her palm and make it dance. But someone with that much control over shards of beer glass?

That's a new one. And one of those shards came real damn close to the tendon in his arm.

Pain remains a distant cousin. Adrenaline's his best and closest friend as they go down hard, glass crunching underneath them but Carver knows he could be in trouble in a vague way, the same way he knew going through doors back in the Valley and that one time he felt the tripwire snap right before he got his stupid ass blown right up. This one's dangerous. This one might just fuck him up.

Good, Carver thinks, and he grabs the other man by the face and moves to just brain his stupid head against the ground until he stops twitching. Which is, of course, when the bartender comes up behind him and matter of factly smashes a bar stool across the back of Carver's skull. And then the world goes all sorts of pretty, shapeless colors as he reels.

So, that's fun. ]

[Dex's biggest mistake in physical fights was always letting the other person get too close. He was second to none when it came to ranged fighting, anytime he had to throw something in the direction of his opponent it landed where he wanted it to, but close up? He was only just slightly above average there.

When he felt Carver grab him, he could tell the man was strong. This looked like it could turn ugly real fast unless he managed to shove the next piece of glass into his eye or throat. Then suddenly he found himself let go after hearing a very heavy object hit a very thick one. It took him a second to realize that had been the bar stool getting cracked against Carver's skull.

That bartender looked like they were looking to smack him next so Dex hastily backed away, glancing at them with an expression on his face like a kid who had just been found beating up another one on the playground by a teacher.]

He started it!

[Not technically true given Dex had been the one to first throw something but Carver had started the whole thing by poking the bear to see what would happen. Dex retreated over until he was back behind the pool table and grabbed one of the balls off of it just in case Carver got anymore bright ideas. Those suckers were heavy and he could definitely break bones if not kill someone with them.]

Did fucking not, [ Carver wheezes, grabbing at the wall to haul his ass upright again. The world twists. There's a not insignificant amount of blood on the ground. And that little fucker's grabbing at pool balls. More ammunition. Carver thinks pretty seriously about the knife tucked up his sleeve, and his backup hidden away in his knife. He doesn't bring firearms when he's drinking, for obvious reasons.

The bartender lifts the stool again, an obvious warning. "I don't care. Get the fuck out, both of you. Now!"

Carver sways a little, flashing the other man a grin. There's blood running through his hair, down his chest. He's drunk enough it doesn't hurt at all. This is fun. ]

Where'd you serve?

[ You get a sense about vets. And this one moves like a real fighter, like he's done more than tournament bullshit in the ring. ]

[Dex ignored the shouts of the bartender. They hardly registered as real in his mind, just an obstacle to get through. His main focus was still on Carver, waiting to see what the maniac would do next. He was surprised when he asked a question instead of just trying to attack. The former sniper wondered if this was just some kind of strategy to get him off-guard.

Confusion crossed onto Dex's face and remained there. He tended to fall back into anger when he didn't understand a situation and that was what happened right now. He kept a firm hold on the pool ball he had in his grasp and didn't let go, ready to brain Carver if he took a step towards him.]

Iraq.

[He answered laconically, wondering where Carver was going with this.]

Ah.

[ He pulls a shard of glass out of his arm with a grunt. There's a distant ghost of pain now. It'll sting like a bitch later when he has to sew himself up. ]

Afghanistan, [ Carver adds, gesturing at himself with the shard of glass in explanation. He has a sense about these things. Context clues, mostly. The way a person holds themselves. The way they fight. You can learn to read that. ]

[Dex still didn't relax his grasp on the pool ball but he didn't seem nearly as likely to throw it as he had a few seconds ago. Dex had a code of morals, warped as they were. He didn't kill soldiers and law enforcement, not unless he absolutely had to, thanks to his time of having been on the right side of the law for so long.]

Good for you.

[Dex said snarkily.]

Then you can walk out of here mostly in one piece if you cut out the bullshit.

[ The bartender has a phone out now, making threatening noises toward dialing. Probably will call the cops, Carver thinks sourly. Wouldn't be the first night he's spent in the drunk tank, but Shaw's getting real tired of bailing his ass out on assault charges and he doesn't have anyone else to call.

He shrugs again. Pulls another shard of glass out of his arm and lets it fall clink to the ground. ]

You're fun, [ Carver observes blandly. ] I like you.

That makes one of us.

[Dex didn't so much group people in those he liked and disliked so much as those that he found interesting or that kept up his curiosity and those that were just background noise and didn't even register as being real to him. Fortunately for Carver's immediate future, he fell into the first category right now.

Dex glanced at the bartender. He couldn't have the cops showing up. They'd ask too many questions and all it would take would be a single fingerprint check for them to realize they had a dangerous escaped fugitive on their hands.]

But we should continue this conversation somewhere else, unless you're some magical cop whisperer.

Yeah, yeah.

[ He pulls another shard of glass and lets it fall, jerking his hand toward the door. Maybe they’ll beat each other unconscious in the alley. Maybe they’ll kill each other. Anything’s possible.

Hell, maybe he’ll hit on this guy and see if it’ll make him sputter.

Carver hums a little, snagging the last dregs of an abandoned glass, and then saunters out the door. Showing his back just because. It’s that sort of moment, everything running reckless. Besides, fighting’s way more fun than staying the night in the drunk tank. ]

[There was that itch in the front of Dex's mind when Carver boldly walked out with his back do him, something dark and with long claws scratching at him telling Dex to still throw the pool ball hard enough to brain this guy to the point he'd be dead before he hit the ground. He thought hard about it and finally decided that it wasn't worth the trouble he'd get into. The bartender would certainly remember his face and the uncanny aim he had, putting him right back on the police's radar.

Finally, he managed to release his grip on the pool ball, letting it roll back onto the table as he followed Carver outside. He was waiting for the guy to make another move, something that would tell Dex if that fight had only been delayed for a minute or stopped completely.]

[ Well, nothing smashes into his already bleeding skull, no knife or shard of glass draws across his throat or gets jabbed into his spine. Carver hums and considers that as he steps outside, taking in a deep breath of cold, sobering air before he turns and ducks into the alley. The other man will follow or he’ll go his own way, but Carver’s got a feeling he’ll follow. They’ve had plenty of opportunities to disengage. Might as well play it out, right?

He knows something about boredom and soldiers and the moments when the two collide. ]

So, [ Carver drawls, turning back to face the other. ] Inquiring minds wanna know. How come you didn’t take that ball and crack my skull open?

[Dex followed. Fuck if he knew why but he did. He gave Carver a withering look like the answer was already obvious.]

Killing you is more trouble than it's worth.

[Despite the satisfaction and happiness it would bring Dex, the consequences that would follow would outweigh that brief period. It was the only way Dex managed to rein in his darkest impulses, knowing that each hastily made decision would end up with him having to face far worse things down the line because of it.]

[ Carver just shrugs at that, flicking his hand out. A careless gesture on the surface, but it’s one Sergeant Shaw taught him specifically. The human eye’s attracted to motion behind even conscious thought. And if somebody’s watching his hands, then they aren’t watching the rest of them. ]

Sure, [ he agrees, because he’s bleeding something fierce and he knows a thing or two about how these moments can turn. There’s always a chance a fight will kill him, Carver knows. He accepts that. On some level, he welcomes it. ] But you still followed me back here.

[ Carver grins. ]

And I’m not that pretty. So, what’s your play?

[The roundabout way of flirting made Dex feel a touch off-balance and it showed on his face. He certainly hadn't been expecting that, even if he had been the one to suggest a hookup in the first place before the fight had started.]

You've gotten my interest. And that's not an easy thing to do.

[It made people more real into Dex when he became curious about them or they could hold his attention, allowing someone to come into focus instead of just being another faceless blob in the mass of humanity he saw through his point-of-view otherwise. That didn't mean he still wouldn't kill Carver if it came right down to it, it just meant he might actually give a damn if he did so.]

Mhmm-hmm.

[ Carver tears a strip from his shirt, watching the other man close as he fashions himself a makeshift bandage and ties off the worst of his fun new stab wounds. Some of them, he knows, will need to be stitched properly. Hopefully he’ll be sober enough to crack out his medical kit when this is done.

Then again, maybe they kill each other after all.

Carver steps forward, into the other man’s space. ] You wanna fuck, or you wanna go a couple more rounds?

[ Making people blanch in back alleys is always fun. And if the other guy doesn’t blanch but takes the bait and flirts back, well, that’s fun too. ]

[This guy was crazy. For most people, that would have been enough to create a hard pass on the idea of banging him. But Dex was not most people and definitely wasn't above wanting to fuck someone he'd just been trying to kill only a few minutes before.

He smirked a little, a wicked glint entering his eye, and didn't back down from the proposal.]

Depends. Do I still get to stab you while we're fucking?

[ That's a nice smile, Carver thinks. Sharper than before, like back when they were fighting. Real. It cuts through the bullshit, all that noise that makes Carver want to slam his head into a wall. Everything's so goddamn loud here and he's always checking his corners, always on alert in case somebody pulls a gun or he spots an IED or a tripwire, just in case. And he hasn't been in the Army for a bit now, hasn't been in Korengal for even longer, but the instinct remains. It drowns everything out until he finds a different game. A distraction.

Well, here's one.

Carver clicks his teeth, taking another step closer. They're almost face to face, now. This fucker really is handsome, he thinks. He hadn't been looking for it earlier, had noted it only distantly. They haven't exchanged names, though the bartender was screeching something fierce about Carver being banned; they're a little more than just strangers to each other now. There's blood on the ground. And that makes it interesting, doesn't it? ]

Maybe. I'm not into necrophilia, though. That gonna be a problem?

[Dex was still a little wary as Carver closed the distance between them but that was only just the instinct eternally just below the surface that had kept him alive since he was eighteen and a fresh-faced kid first entering that Army. When people got up close to one another, there was a very primal instinct that came up within them, something that said "Let's fight or let's fuck." They'd already done the former and frankly it had riled up something inside Dex that was very ready for the other option.]

Somehow I think I'll manage.

[Then he reached out, fast as when he'd been throwing those glass shards, and pulling Carver in for a bruising kiss.]

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