Chapter Text
Life at the Knightley house went on without much to report. He had the space all to himself. Plenty of food in the pantry. A roof over his head. A bed to sleep in every night. And though Gary had seen some movement in the streets a handful of times - the hurried scuffle of humans, synchronised robotic clan or a lone hesitant stalking through the night which made it difficult for him to classify exactly to which species the other might belong - either way, in general they would all bypass the more sequestered house and leave him in peace.
And whether he wanted to or not, Gary stayed alive, letting the days pass him by.
The first few had been absolute hell. A torturous mixture of a perpetual hangover, going cold turkey and oh yeah, being responsible for bringing on the apocalypse had kept him mostly in bed, wanting to shut it all out and maybe fade away simply by waiting things out.
Being in Andy’s bed, he’d still felt some duty to keep the space somewhat kempt. Even if he felt as though he had been tainting it just by existing there. Still. After his due time of only being able to manage lying curled up and miserable, the necessary bathroom breaks started with a lethargic muddling over there, his route then including a more determined sidequest to the kitchen pantry to stock up on more canned goods, to partaking in the occasional shower.
In time, Gary grew tired of lying in another's bed, only waiting to die.
And so there was room for at least some variation to his days. He got up to wander around the house. Lie on the living room sofa to stare out the window, or spend some time sitting in the kitchen trying to muster the energy to cook before settling for another handful of dry cereal.
Occasionally, and especially at night, he would slip back into that worried frenzy. The sharp kind of panic where he felt at a complete loss and as though he’d have to do something, anything, to stop himself from imploding completely. Cutting would take that first edge off. And then after, he’d start to reorganise every single thing in the house for a long continuation of hours, days, he wasn’t sure - but until the point of passing out due to exhaustion.
On some rare occasion, he could even find himself somewhat enjoying his time at the house, finding whatever measure of comfort he could discover. Wardrobe contents. Liquor cabinet. The collection of family photos, going all the way back to Andy's birth and before then. The bathtub was nice. And the garden was a good, peaceful place to retreat, its overgrown weeds like a buffer Gary might imagine keeping out the senseless world beyond.
But he still slept a lot. Even as Gary’s days expanded, he couldn’t quite escape the feeling he was only biding his time until the universe would right itself again and he wouldn’t be forced to keep going on anymore.
One particular night in November, he woke up with a start.
Not due to his own ramshackle body; the smack withdrawals, apocalypse nightmares or general insomnia (and he really needed to write these down, Gary had half a mind to think even while terrified, you know, just in case he ever did end up starting another band).
No, it was because Andy was on top of him.
Not some imagined version from a wet or not so wet dream. The actually tangible, and actually very un-wet Andy, had kneeled over him on top of the covers to effectively trap Gary underneath. His sideways, curled up sleeping position left him with only his head and hands exposed to the air. He could hardly consider it comfortable.
Still struggling to fully wake up and maybe better comprehend what the hell was going on, Gary craned his head to get a better look at the person holding him down. His heart leapt. He looked good.
Well, just a bit sweaty and grimy, obviously. Living through a large-scale cataclysm would do that to a person. His clothes were a layered mess of protective fabric. His glasses, still fucked from headbutting what had once been their teacher, way back at the Hive. And obviously his demeanor had been vastly altered. It was a far cry from what Andy had been like mere weeks ago, when Gary had stopped by at his office in the city. Gone was the clean, straight-laced model of a human being. That version of Andy had been fully obliterated. Something more primal and alive had taken its place.
That’s how Gary knew it to be the genuine, human Andy to boot. No fabricated copy of a man could’ve exuded this deep kind of feeling towards him.
“Hi Andy.”
The other seemed to bear down on him a little harder, the edge of the sheets cutting down harder on Gary’s neck and wrists.
“Why are you here? And which you is it, anyway.”
“You know it’s me, man. The other one, I ripped its head off. You were there.”
The pressure didn't let up. Andy kept staring down at him tensely and poised to attack. “That doesn’t mean shit. They could’ve made loads of you.”
Shit. Gary dreaded that idea.
Thank fuck he didn’t have the space to ponder on it, with Andy still solidly on top of him and insisting he - what?
“Well, I am the real deal.”
A snort. “Lucky me.”
At least part of him was thrilled to hear Andy’s deadpan response, once again confirming that it was really him, in this bedroom, together again. Gary never would’ve thought it possible with how fucked everything had gotten.
But he was actually here. He’d come home.
Possibly to crush Gary to death, robot or no, going by the murderous glint in his eye. Ah, now that really brought back some memories.
“Yeah, lucky you.”
“And why exactly are you in my bedroom?”
Gary smiled up at him. “I just wanted to borrow your copies of ‘Huge Fat Cocks’. It gets lonely out there. And they might be good for bartering, too.”
Andy rolled his eyes. The pressure let up at least somewhat.
“That probably proves that I’m me, by the way. Right?”
Andy shook his head. “They had some selective memory. You know that.”
Well, in his current position, there wasn’t much Gary could do. He hesitated for a moment or two, then shuffled his hands slightly higher up on the pillow.
Inch by inch, more skin surface of his forearms was revealed. He knew he’d exposed them far enough when Andy winced.
“Christ, Gary.”
“Well, you wanted to know.”
Andy lifted himself off him then and instead moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Gary sat upright in kind. In truth, it was wonderful to see Andy in 3D. Breathing, alive and well, and right here in front of him. Gary suddenly felt eager to touch, taste, smell him too (no matter how foul that might be after fuck knows how many days without a shower), to make double and triple sure this wasn’t just his own mind fucking with him, and to absolutely drown in the presence of Andy, back with him at last.
Though he’d try to keep his cool.
“So. You wanna prove to me that you’re human?”
Still hunched over and without even looking at him, Andy raised a middle finger in his direction.
“Thanks. You can show me the other one too if you’d like.”
“Oh fuck off, Gary,” Andy then said, and his exasperation sounded so genuine it made Gary feel accomplished, a little impressed even with his own capabilities. “You don’t know what I’ve been through. The kind of time I’ve had, with Steven and Sam, or without them, all the shit I’ve seen. Wondering if I’d ever get to see you again, and in what horrifying type of context I’d have to see you die. Only to come look for shelter in my old place, and sure enough there you are, not a care in the world, dead comfortable in my own fucking bed-”
“Hey now man, don’t stress about that… I’m sure it could still fit the both of us, even if it seems you’re the only person on the planet to have actually gained weight since all of society collapsed-”
And then his back was flush against the mattress. With Andy having lurched for him so quickly he had been powerless to do anything about it, and now the other man on top of him again, Gary was being violently shaken, head snapping back and forth in whiplash as Andy once again seemed filled with that well-known rage intended only for him.
He couldn’t do much more than yell about it while enduring the reaction as deserved.
Andy eventually wore himself out and dropped the other again. A few more intentional shoves against the shoulder and his long pent up frustration seemed sufficiently vented. Until further notice.
“Fuuuck, Andy,” Gary wheezed. Though he, too, didn’t have much energy left beyond that.
“Just shut up. You don’t know. You do not know.”
“Okay. Jeez. But okay.”
They both remained in silence for a bit, still holding their respective positions, and Gary didn’t quite know what to do next. Not joke around, apparently. Though he couldn’t exactly take this the heartfelt, more serious route either. What was he supposed to say? That he’d been worried about Andy, too? Replaying in his mind every moment of that night, how he wished he had deviated from his path to stop the events from unfolding as they had - leaving with his two still remaining friends at the King’s Head, slinking off with one of the girls at the Mermaid, cutting his losses at the Cross Hands when he’d known the others had never even wanted a do-over of the crawl, anyway. Never reaching out to invite them in the first place. Dying of suicide some time last winter. Quickly and painlessly dying in a car crash almost two decades ago, or better yet, an overdose even before then, before ever having come back to Newton Haven past his teens.
Then everything wouldn’t be so fucked.
Hang on, why did he hear sniffling. Gary was long accustomed to these kinds of thoughts. If anything they were a bigger comfort than whatever reality he’d find himself in.
Drawn back to the present, he saw Andy now start to twitch and shiver where he sat. Oh.
“Hey man, I’m sorry.”
“Oh fuck off.”
“... You wanna knock me about a little more? I mean, if that would make you feel better.”
To his surprise, that only made Andy cry more - deep and dry heaving, horrible sobs - and the man who first had been leering over him now crumpled, bent towards Gary, and came to lie down beside him seeking some source of comfort.
Still baffled, Gary put his arms around him.
“Uh, there there. It’s alright.”
He rubbed Andy’s back, hoping it might help soothe him. He was still at a loss as for what else he could do but happy to take directions for once.
Even through the covers, Gary felt a leg sliding up against his own. He looked down at their bodies. Andy was aligning himself with his own form, moulding himself against the other person as if instinctively trying to get as close as humanly possible.
“Hah. Told you we’d both still fit.”
“Gary,” Andy groaned, though it lacked all the heat and actual grudge from before. At least his means of deflecting had helped to take all that energy out of him. At least he was no longer at a risk of getting pummeled again. Probably.
“Yeah,” the other agreed, drawing back a bit to get a closer look at Andy’s face and better gauge his further intentions. “I’m here with you, man.”
Andy wiped his tears away. He breathed in, composed himself before levelling Gary with a stern look.
“You left.”
Gary chose to not look him in the eye then, fixing Andy’s hair instead. “Hmm.”
“You left,” the other insisted, and his eyes, though not yet burned, still were attempting to kindle a small hole into Gary’s walls the more he tried to avoid their attention. “We went through all of that, all of that, and you just left.”
“Mm.” He was looking at Andy’s glasses instead now. The broken frame. Snapped clean in two, stuck together with a different half which didn't even remotely match the original design. More small details of him to get lost into.
“I spent all my time looking for you.”
Something indescribably soft crept into his voice and oh, Gary could work with this. That could actually help them move forward from wherever the fuck they'd arrived.
He did finally dare look Andy in the eye, and his former friend was looking at him openly. Suddenly vulnerable. But also, not weak or compliant because of that transparency, at all.
Yeah, that would do just fine for him.
It was the easiest thing in the world to move his hand down to Andy’s jaw, then lean in for the kiss. He was met halfway.
Their lips met again. It had been too long. It had barely been two months, really.
But they kissed. Lying entangled in Andy’s bed. As they’d done before. As they should’ve done more often in their life. As they could still make up for right now.
As Gary could still make up for, to level things out after all that he’d ruined over time.
Andy's eyes drifted shut. Good. No more of those dark and, fine, rightfully accusing looks aimed in his direction. The other moaned into the contact. Turned more fully towards Gary, who happily obliged.
A hand came to cup his cheek, mirroring the touch he still kept on Andy. Their legs interlocked. The hand moved to the back of his head to grab some unkempt tufts of his hair. The kiss deepened.
A wet slide of tongue. Gary still knew exactly how Andy liked it, how to get back into his good graces for now. They slowly made out, grabbing at each other, emitting small sounds when this contact between them started feeling particularly good.
So they needed to break away and come up for air a few times.
“You taste like absolute ass, by the way.”
“You taste like ass. Reckon that nightstand still got any mints?”
They dove back in for more necking for some extended time.
Soon enough though, Gary found a more pressing matter arising, so to speak.
He figured it was only another clear cut method to score him some brownie points.
Andy moved his ministrations along his jawline and down his neck, and it provided him with the opportunity to speak.
“You know, there are other places I could put my mouth to use.”
“Mm,” Andy moaned blissfully, from somewhere down by the collar of his shirt.
“I mean it,” Gary insisted, moving his thigh between Andy’s as best as he could while with the sheets still in the way. “I’d be happy to do it.”
“Hmm,” Andy responded, shuffling back up to kiss Gary on the cheek. “That does sound nice. But maybe not right now, yeah.”
He was looking at him all genuinely lovey now, so Gary looked down at both their bodies instead. Oh yeah, there was definitely something to work with there.
“Come oonn,” he teased.
He worked the covers off himself - it was growing way too hot under there, anyway - and kicked them down towards the end of the bed as best he could. He trailed a finger along the belt buckles of Andy’s trousers, teasing, along the outside of his thigh, then over, down, to the inseam. But his friend didn’t spread his legs to accommodate. So fine then. Straight to the dick, it was.
Gary palmed the outline of it, straining against the fabric, and Andy shuddered on the exhale of breath. Which had to be a good sign to be sure. At the very least it wasn’t a no.
It wasn’t a stop, let’s consider this, let’s consider us, which was all Gary could wish for right now.
So even if the position was a bit cramped, he felt his way up and down the length of it, marvelling at the warmth he swore he could feel even through the two layers of clothes keeping them separate.
“I could make you come fucking hard.”
Andy laughed, incredulously. But it still wasn’t a no. Even as Gary loosened the button, unzipped his pants, could feel Andy only through one thin layer of clothing now.
“Ohh, so what, you got me all figured out, then?”
“Yeah. Bet I could still suck you off just the way you like it.”
“Well, maybe things have changed, mate.”
“I doubt it.”
Andy shimmied his pants and underwear down far enough to be exposed, and Gary grabbed his dick knowing he had won.
At that first real touch Andy surrendered to him, rolling half on top and starting to slowly rock his hips as Gary stroked his cock. Fuck, he was fully hard, and already sticky. Not nearly enough though in order for this to work. Gary brought his hand up for a second so he could lick his palm - already tasting salt, tangy, but having made the suggestion he would still be open to bear it later on - and started working his dick again, now with an easier slide.
And he knew he was doing a good job. Andy made that low keening sound, the one he hadn’t heard in decades, and his cock throbbed in his grasp only confirming he was on the right track. Good. This was something he was good at. This was something he could achieve.
He tested another kiss to his friend’s lips, and Andy instantly opened up, plunged his tongue into the other’s mouth.
Which was a surprise, but not exactly an unpleasant one. Just a further numbing of the senses. Everything became Andy. He was being enveloped by him. Nothing else existing but the two of them and what they were doing right here.
Gary closed his eyes.
Made sure he kept stroking the other’s cock. Hard in this direction, then harder in the other. Teasing just a bit by getting fully down to the base and into Andy’s pubes, feeling his way around to his balls and upper thighs, then back to the main event with renewed vigour. All his attention shifted to Andy. The effect each movement had on him, the minute shifts, sounds, every sign of confirmation that Gary was still worth something in this way.
If he could make Andy feel this good, maybe he’d consider giving their connection another chance.
“Please, Andy,” he said, loud enough to be heard over the other’s increasingly urgent groans into the quiet of the room. “Please, come on, let me suck you off.”
“Feels too good,” the other managed, still burying himself into the contact with increasing urgency.
“You close?” Gary checked in with him, even if he barely needed to ask.
Andy nodded, gritting out “just like that,” again grasped for the side of the other’s face, then moaned and came in a few hot spurts.
It dribbled all over Gary’s hand and lower arm, and onto his clothes. Well. That was the most solid evidence he could’ve possibly asked for.
He wriggled his hand out from where it was still half-caught between them both, and covertly wiped at least some of it clean before patting Andy on the back. He still seemed lost in a daze after all those ups and downs they'd had.
“Fuuck,” the other panted in response.
“That was good, right?”
Andy hummed, nodding, then kissed Gary again. Lazily, tongue sliding against the seam of his now closed lips.
“Yeah. Thanks. Fuck. Did you-?”
“Yeah,” Gary lied. At least the darker shade of his own trousers made it hard to determine whatever had or hadn’t happened there. Still keenly remembering what a post-orgasm Andy was like, he figured no close examination would’ve been pursued anyway.
“Wow,” the other smiled in a soft and dopey way, for the first time now looking perfectly comfortable and content in their shared vicinity. “Did that really do it for you, without even being touched?”
“Yeah.”
He kissed him again. “Horny fuck. Maybe you’re right, some things really haven't changed.”
A notion with which Gary was inclined to agree. Doing all of this still seemed to come to him naturally as ever, in any case.
Andy was still kissing his face, making a trail from his lips across his cheek, to his ear, down his jawline and neck. The movement was already getting sluggish, though. Gary wasn’t quite sure if he felt relieved or dreadfully hollow because of it. Maybe he would've wanted more of Andy. Even while knowing he wouldn't have deserved any of it.
Not getting much of a response, Andy moved again to lie beside the other, reached down and at least tugged his underwear back into place. He settled in comfortably. The childhood bed kept them in close proximity and likely would do so all night.
“Hey," Andy finally spoke, on the edge of drifting into sleep. "Thanks. It’s good that you are here.”
Gary’s brain seemed to stagger with the lack of an immediate response.
It didn’t matter. Within seconds Andy fell asleep, not minding or even registering the complete and utter silence of his friend.