Chapter Text
Marcus always trusted Wrench. He'd trusted Wrench since the moment he'd met him after all.
It started with the moment he kidnapped him outside Blume, and the resistance of his natural instinct to struggle as he was blindly taken to the beach. It grew from a comfortable companionship, to a partner in crime. Then to a best friend. Then, he was taken, and more could be on the table.
Along with a fireworks show that is.
Honestly, Marcus had no idea what flavour of ‘Wrench-Style’ he was going to get when he agreed to his plan. Knowing the guy, it could've turned out to be absolutely anything. But he trusted Wrench. He always did.
It's good to have that trust proven right time and time again. Especially when it's trusting your best friend to make the best call when you're up against the Russian mob.
Make the best call he did too, as these fireworks were the best damn fireworks he'd ever seen in his life. The dedsec logo was a kickass and very ‘Wrench’ touch too. He really went all-out on both style and damage output with this one. The Bratva wouldn't dream of hitting back after this and Marcus couldn't be prouder of him for handling it.
He couldn't help but beam either, especially in Wrench's direction. Watching his friend lounge on the wheel of their stolen boat as he set up his little (big) surprise, Marcus just couldn't help it.
No one had punched a hole in a wall for him before, and they certainly hadn't blown up a bunch of Russian real estate for him either.
But he'd also never cut through a mountain of FBI agents for one mask before now, nor had he trusted anyone enough to take a dive from a damn skyscraper with nothing but his thunderball keeping him from certain death.
No matter which of them you looked at, they were both a rush of adrenaline in each other's veins. Clashing apart and together in waves of violent loyalty. Together was together but not at all wasn't even an option on the fucking table. That was what the events of this year had taught Marcus at least.
He trusted Wrench a lot. Almost too much for a friend.
It was strange, he looked at Wrench and all he felt was some kind of blissful agony sometimes. Like he was being pulled by his nervous system towards him, being ripped inside from out but in a way that made him want to close the space between them. It wasn't the type of agony that hurt painfully, per se. But it was painful to feel . Marcus still struggled to put it into words, but either way this feeling had pull and it was pulling towards his best friend.
It got worse when he caught other people staring at Wrench, awe and interest painting their eyes as they closed in closer on him then they should've ever been allowed. It turned to ice when he saw him with Naomi, and thawed when they inevitably broke up only a few months into their relationship.
Eventually Marcus figured out what that feeling was.
The day after that realisation is when the Bratva had tried to kill him.
So here he sat, on a boat beside the only man who'd blown up five houses and punched through a wall for him, just.
Staring.
Smiling at him.
Sometimes he wondered if Wrench just, knew. Figured out how he felt. What he'd do for him. Sometimes he wondered if Wrench just loved all his friends this deeply, and Marcus was simply kidding himself for even thinking he even had a chance. He wondered just how deep that trust cut through him. Wondered if it cut as deep as his.
Most of the time though? He didn't care enough to ask. Being around Wrench was enough to make the feeling more gut-wrenching and euphoric in equal measure. Maybe he was a masochist, hell maybe that's more of Wrench rubbing off on him. But it was his. Unlike the one person he wanted most of all.
The thing is about feelings, they tend to get out of hand if you add alcohol into the mix. Usually Marcus would be down for a drink with his friends. But not tonight. Not when the moon is bright and the fireworks are lighting up the pale of his skin and the fire on the beach reflects the sheen of his alcohol-kissed lips. No, that would be a very bad idea. That's what Marcus kept telling himself at least.
Then suddenly, he was on his fourth beer.
That's usually how it goes anyways. It's a lot easier to blame how close they get to each other on the alcohol after all. Four beers turn into six and suddenly Marcus can see the stars in the sky and the stars in his eyes as he takes his mask off briefly to brush the sand out of his hair.
And he melts . He just can't take it anymore. Desperation becomes agony becomes the snap of a thousand taught heart strings as he stares at the man he's laid next to and reaches further into the galaxy of his space, ready to see trust bleed into faith.
He tasted like cheap beer and cigarettes and sweat, cherry and dried blood. He felt like the rush of a high-speed train whizzing by you by a breadth of a hair. Speeding and speeding until the collision makes you dizzy and your joints ache and suddenly you wake up to a Saturday morning in your best friends fucking bed.
That's the thing about chasing highs, you never think about where that time in the clouds is gonna put you when you drift back to earth.
Yes, you get what you pay for. But are you sure the price is right? Are you sure you're willing to pay for it?
Even if that price could potentially mean losing your best friend over what he may wake up and say was a ‘drunken mistake’?
This certainly wasn't the way Marcus was thinking when he woke up next to Wrench. But when Wrench woke up and found himself in a lonely bed, what else would he think?
Marcus kicked himself for failing to consider that when he left so early. He'd left Wrench to sleep his hangover off while he got some early-morning tasks done for Sitara. Thought he'd return with some late breakfast and a goofy ass smile as an apology.
But when Wrench walked in all uncharacteristically quiet and avoided him all day. That's when it sunk in that Marcus had fucked up.
A day turned to days, and this time the agony building in Marcus was the type of pain that brought people to their knees. He couldn't concentrate on much anymore. It even became so much for both of them that Sitara had had enough by day five.
That's when she came up with the Dedsec club celebration. Pretty fucking standard, putting a bunch of people in one tiny fucking bunker and letting them all drink themselves shitfaced. But it was an opportunity to let loose again.
It was also an opportunity for Marcus to finally set things right. To regain Wrench's faith in him.
So they set it up, Wrench avoiding him as usual. The five of them made it work though and before they knew it the night was alive and packed to the brim.
The quintet had made it in together, but by the time Marcus found enough personal space around him to turn and look for Wrench, he was alone. At first Marcus’ resolve stilled. He wondered if perhaps giving Wrench time was the best course of action here.
Fuck that.
He wasn't giving up so easily.
Tonight was the night. Whether they liked it or not.