Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Montag watched Milly back the beetle out of the driveway. The rumbling of the engine is all that could be heard over his heavy breathing and thrumming heartbeat in his ears. The small vehicle speeding away down the street. In the back of his mind, he wondered where she was going, her parlor family wasn’t real and couldn’t help her. Also, the closest family they had was three states away.
He didn’t dwell on the idea for too long before snapping back to reality. His grim reality left no time for him to daydream or relax. Leaving him there as the house burnt up in a beautiful strong flame. Ash and thick black smoke flood the already smog-filled sky. Tears rolled down his face as stood there feeling so alone.

Suddenly he felt a tsunami of emotions wash over him, the strongest emotion being rage. He violently ripped the earpiece out of his delicate ear, chucking it to the ground. Stomping on it like it was an old cigar that needed to be put out. Walking over to Beatty as if he was a lifeless zombie. He felt so numb to the world, foolish even at how he acted in front of everyone.
" Hey Montag don't forget I'm always here for you," the words smoothly rolled off of Beatty's tongue. Montag stopped dead in his tracks a few steps from the man. Looking into the captain's dark, and intense gaze he finally cracks under the pressure. Seeking out the man's warmth, Montag stumbles his way into his chest. As he breathed in smelling charred wood, and lavender soap, his strong cologne filled his nose. Montag melted into the strong comforting hug, and soft pats are felt on his back as he finally zones back in. Realizing he had been hiccuping, along with the tightness in his airways. It felt like he was suffocating his throat and lungs all burning from being constricted.
Guy glances up into his captain's eyes. The captain’s gaze had softened from looking at the pitiful man holding onto his clothing like his life depended on it. As Montag cried into Beatty’s chest, the captain signaled that the rest of the team could pack everything up. Silently giving them the ok to go home to their families. As time passed the house fire calmed down. Only sniffles could be heard along with the occasional shallow shaky breath. Guy’s death grip on the pitch-black shirt dissipated. A rough voice finally spoke up, “ You got it all out of your system for now…”
A hushed silence fell over them before Guy croaked out a response. “Yes. Thank you for staying with me Captain.”
“You're welcome, I couldn’t leave my best and favorite worker here with his life in shambles,” Beatty slowly lowered him and Guy down to the ground as he spoke. “Also…,” A long pause is had before he speaks up. “You can just call me John off the job.”
Montag looks at him skeptically, “ Ok… John.”
“Now the commission would like for me to keep you with me until you get back on your feet, and until I feel sure you won't defect again. It’s that or they send you to an institution.” John finishes talking and looks at him, eyes full of empathy.
“Ok…I'm so very sorry for barging into your life like this. Sorry if this inconveniences you or your wife.”
Suddenly a hearty laugh bursts out from John's chest. “ Your very funny Montag, but I’ll let you in on something. I'm not married, I was once but I got a divorce after I discovered some things about myself. What made it worse was I tried to hide it and lie to myself about it.”
John starts to lead him to his car, and before he opens the door; Guy blurts out a question, freezing him in his motions.
"Why did you get a divorce?"
Beatty glances up at him before opening his door, clearing his throat and mumbling that he would tell him on the way to his home. Guy gets into the car fastening himself in and turning to the driver’s seat waiting as Beatty got ready to leave. The sound of the engine coming alive is all that can be heard as they pull away from the now-burnt home. The car is plagued with silence for the first 5 minutes of the ride. It was about a forty-minute ride to get to Beatty’s home.

Soon Beatty pipes up clearing his throat, anyone could hear the doubt in his voice. “ What do you think about same-sex attraction… honestly?”
A few times Montag would start talking but then it felt as if the words would die in his voice. Mustering up all he could, he started to speak up, “I think… They are good. I struggled to grapple with the ideas because sometimes I have a fear of my safety being compromised if I said these things. I have at one point thought a man I had met was quite handsome and that I would divorce Milly for him.”
“Well it's the reason I am divorced, my ex-wife caught me 'admiring' someone." He raises his hand up in air quotes insinuating he was doing more than admiring.

“Well… if we are being honest Captain. I always sorta fancied you. The reasons being you are strong, understanding, and very dedicated. Also have known you since I joined the force. You slowly grew on me, making my heart betray Milly and fall for… you.”
“Then that makes what I’m about to say much easier." John glances over at Guy in the passenger seat.
"Guy, I have been infatuated with you since the day we met because I thought you were so well put together and you had a fire in your eyes that I hadn’t seen in any of the others. Now that you have admitted to me that you feel the same as me, would you like to pursue a romantic relationship?”
Montag Smiles at him fondly and replies, " I at some point would like that but give me time to figure myself out. Then I will be fully able to give you my answer."
Beatty hums in understanding, he knew that Montag had to deal with the mess of his life right now. That he said to give him time that wasn't a no so all he has to do is be patient. That is perfectly ok with him because he didn't even expect him to accept his feelings. What he expected was to be berated and ignored. Turning on meaningless noise in the car moved his hand to Montag's thigh rubbing small calming circles with his thumb. The car drove to Beatty's house, yet they didn't get out, they were just sitting in the vehicle. Beatty leans over to Montag's cheek to give a soft kiss before exiting the car. A red tint engulfs Montag's face as he pats it a few times and does a breathing exercise to get himself under control. Then the passenger door opens up, and a calloused hand brushes Montag's leading him out and into his home. The two got out of the ride, and through the doors; then he shut and locked it. Beatty grabs Montag's wrist and opens his mouth to speak, " Ok so for now you may sleep in the guest room, we can make adjustments in the morning to make it to your liking."
Montag thoughtfully nods his head asking him to lead him to the bedroom. As John leads him through he explains where most things are. All about the house and how his room is right below his. Montag mutters a quick thank you waving at Beatty before closing the door. Kicking off all his articles of clothing, and climbing into the cold sheets. The soft, cool bed was welcomed after the day Montag had. So as he pulls the covers close and closes his eyes he breathes out a sigh of relief before drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

Light shuffling can be heard before the door creaks open and it's just Beatty checking in. He looks in to see Montag's slumped form and quietly closes the worn door back. Heading back towards his room. Closing his door and clambering into his own bed. Finally passing out after a hard day's work.

Chapter Text

The next day Montag woke up still feeling tired. His face still felt puffy from all the crying he did last night. He finally got out of bed. When his feet touched the hardwood floor a chill ran up his spine. Noticing his previous clothes sprawled across the floor in his rush last night to get to bed.
He begins looking around the room hoping to find some clean non-ash and sweat-riddled clothes. He finds a plain graphic T-shirt and some comfy shorts. The shirt was a bit tight and the shorts are a little tight in certain 'areas' but he ignores it.
Guy walks around stretching and giving himself a pep talk so he can take on the day. Finally, he opened the door to come face to face with a hand.
"Oh- sorry good morning Montag," Beatty says in a hushed raspy voice.
"Good morning to you too Beatty," Montag says. His face is heating up and his mind begins racing from how nice Beatty's morning voice is.
Beatty clears his throat before he speaks again. "I made breakfast and coffee if you would like one."
Guy nods his head in agreement following after Beatty. They walked toward the kitchen; which had a bar-like counter aimed at the tv. From what he could tell, there were sleek TVs that were a parlor room. “I like your parlor room, it looks very nice and cozy,” Guy speaks up and John glanced behind him before speaking.
“Thank you, I tried to clean it up a bit before we came and got you,” John mentions.
Silence befalls them again as they reach the kitchen, and the smell of sizzling eggs, and toasted bread fill the air. A little breakfast station is set up on the kitchen table—eggs, sitting on a plate, toast waiting sticking out the top of a toaster. Bacon laid out on a tray to cool off.
“This is quite the spread,” Montag comments before going over to the counter and grabbing a plate off of the dish rack. “, Do you do this for all your visitors, or just me?”
“Just you, I don't have a lot of visitors honestly,” Beatty says.

John also grabs a plate and they both start making their food. Pouring two cups of coffee Beatty hands one off to Montag before going and sitting at his counter. Montag awkwardly joins him sitting one bar stool away from him.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you last night but since you 'defected'...," A long pause is held before Beatty speaks again ",... You will have to attend a therapy group. For people who have committed similar actions like your own."

A simple ok is all Montag says as he mindlessly stirs his coffee. The sugar and milk he added had long been mixed in.
"Since your house and all assets have been frozen or drawn to condemnation I will be driving you there. Where you will have to sign a paper that shows you are going to show up every day or they will… do some unsavory things to you. I'm mostly like a glorified babysitter until they feel you are good enough to be released from my supervision. "

Montag nods his head before speaking up. "Do you know how long I will have to attend this program?"

Beatty stops and thinks before starting " I only- I mean you will at least be going for 1-2 years but they can keep you for… I don't know how long."

Montag looks at him quizzically. "What were you trying to say before about you?"

John glanced over and brushed off the questioning look. "Nothing."

“Ok? Well, do you have any other clothes I can wear? I don’t really wanna show up looking like this.” Montag gestures to himself.

“ No. But for now, I will give you some of my clothes that I bought a bit too big.” Beatty gets up from his spot and returns a few minutes later with a pair of jeans and a T-shirt in hand. A soft peach-colored hoodie draped over his shoulder. As Montag gets off the stool he finally notices the height difference. Montag is taller than Beatty by a head. Montag wonders how he never noticed. Did Beatty wear some kind of shoe that elevates his height like a heel or platform? Is it because he is as hunched over and head facing down as he normally was?

A few snaps could be heard in front of Montag’s face catching his attention with a quiet huh slipping out.
“I didn't get these clothes for you to admire them! Go shower. It's the third room to the left. Also, hurry, it's a 30-minute drive to the building and we got 2 hours before you need to be there. It's a 1-hour drive from that building to work for me so please make it quick.” Beatty states before walking away with some clothes of his own so he could go get ready.

Both parties continue their daily routines, tension still slightly high from Beatty’s hostile energy early. They both make it to their needed destinations. For a while, this was how their days went. For 3 months Montag didn't address how Beatty reacted and Beatty seemingly wanted to keep it that way.
Finally, Montag had enough of the silent treatment. The awkward silence in the car as they pulled into the bleak all-white building parking lot. As he got out of the vehicle, he turned around looking at Beatty straight into his eyes. "When we get home we need to talk."
That is all Montag said before he closed the door, not leaving any room for argument. Frustration was all he could feel before he opened the doors to the building. Looking behind him to see the car riding off.

Chapter Text

All day the only thing Beatty could think about was getting home. He was so worried about what Montag was going to say. Is it about how he flipped out? He knows he was wrong but it feels like the wound is still fresh. Even if it has been years since it happened. Luckily he still has a few more hours before he has to be home, and unlike before the bus picks Montag up at rehab so he doesn't have to face him right away.

Seemingly the hours slipped through his fingers like sand because the clock went from lunchtime to dinner in the blink of an eye. Beatty walks out of the station stuffing his dirty work clothes in a laundry bag in the back of his truck. Taking up the driver's seat and making the nerve-wracking ride home. The passing lights of the homes only raised his anxiety more because he knows the light is on at his home, but not in the welcoming way or the way of coming home to watch tv together like he is used to.

This light will be uncomfortable like he’s on a operating table. The bright light of the overhead will blind him but instead of a light, it's eyes and words. Picked apart bit by bit until they get to the problem. Poked and prodded until it's addressed or fixed. Then resembled like he was a toy, and will have a bandage of sorry and I understand slapped on. Which he is expected to be ok with even if he isn’t. At least that’s how he expects it to go because that’s how he would do it.

Then, he comes to a halt, and it's because he arrived. He doesn’t even remember driving. It's like he went on autopilot while he was in his own little world. John gets out opens the back door of his vehicle pulls out the laundry back, closing the door behind him.

Pulling his keys out of his pocket. They rattle as he flips through a few until he gets to his front door house key. Sticking the funny-shaped piece of metal into the slot, a click could be heard. The door gave way to show his entryway. Warmth hits the front of John’s face a stark contrast to the cold chill running up his spine. He shuts the door behind him kicking off his dirty steel-toe boots. Along with pouring the dirty work clothes into a hamper that was in the laundry room.

“Montag! Are you here?” John calls out to see if Montag is anywhere in earshot or deeper into the house.

“Living room.” A short response is all that can be heard.

John's heavy footsteps can be heard until he turns the corner and he is in the living room area. Montag is sitting on the grey curved couch a blanket draped over his lap and a bowl of warm tomato soup and a sandwich sat on the coffee table. “Hello. Welcome back.” Sourness is deeply rooted in Montag’s voice, “ Are you ready to talk?”

“You know I’m not,” Beatty responds with a slight edge to his voice as he sat down on the couch across from him.

Montag looks into Beatty's eyes, “We are gonna talk about it anyway.”

“I know, so let me kinda start from the beginning. Back when I was in my twenties, probably three to four years before your joined I… Defected. In a major way, I met this woman named Clara. She was fucking nuts she walked out into the middle of the street when I was driving. Every so often on my drives home, I would stop and have conversations with her. I learned she had a younger sister named Clarissa who she didn't get along with.”

The mention of Clarissa piqued Montag’s interest. “And what does this girl have to do with you defecting?”

Beatty gave him a glance before going back to talking, “She some nights would give me things, and one night she gave me a bag full of books. I freaked out, I didn’t know what to do with them. They had been given to me off the job & the station was pretty empty. I couldn’t go back with it I would look suspicious. So I kept them and over time started reading them. One day I was found out because I pulled a book out when a hound was around. I didn’t even know the hounds were out at that time… pretty much the rest is history.”

“Oh…” A sympathetic look crosses Montag’s face.

As Beatty looks at Montag’s face he thinks back earlier. He knew it, he would be forced to tell, and then given that dumb look of pity. It hurt his feelings a bit but he brushed it off. “Well… now you know the story. Happy?”

Beatty walks away, going up the stairs and as far as possible away from Montag.