B seeks out Lark once he's sure Alec's gone-- he tries the cabin first, then Lark's other usual haunts. He comes with his little portable music player and a handful of CDs under one arm. "Hey."
He finds Lark in cabin 101, busy rearranging furniture, although he seems distracted until he sees B and the CDs. He smiles, and steps back to let him in.
"If you ain't in the mood for company, I'll scram, but I thought...." He shrugs with a helpless little smile, holding up a couple of the CDs for Lark to see-- they're quite the variety, and one's even home-burned. "I'd want company, if it were me."
He'd be gone, if it were him, quite likely. But Lark's made of stronger stuff. And possibly less codependent.
"I do." He says it quietly, not ashamed of it but not used to it, either.
Not so long ago, he would have isolated himself to try to lick his wounds and recover. He's learned that doesn't work. (Doesn't always stop the impulse, no, but he's learning.)
"Then you got me," he says warmly, and comes the rest of the way in.
He also sets the player and CR cases down on the nearest flat surface, and turns to Lark to offer his hands in a "come get a hug?" kind of gesture. His two years out in Steve's world has fixed his touching problem, but he's not going to force it on Lark, either.
The only reason Lark didn't initiate is because he saw firsthand how wary B was of physical contact. The second a hug is offered? He's taking it, and because B is strong, he's not holding back on how tight he hugs.
"Oof. Clearly somebody needs that," B comments, but it's fond more than teasing, and he's got metal on his ribs still. It's fine. He's busy wrapping both arms around Lark, back. Not quite as tight as desperation, but a comforting squeeze, the weight of a friend offering support. "You're okay, man. I got you."
"You wouldn't've sent him somewhere with no support," B says, guessing as much even if he doesn't know for sure. "It's on him if he don't take that support." He rubs at Lark's back gently. Flesh hand, since it's warmer. "Besides. You know how the Barge works. Could be you finish here and go home, and he's been there two days."
Hoo boy. B also never really recovered from what Elias did, not that he's ever actually admitted it to anyone, so... he gets that. B gives Lark another little squeeze, then steps back enough to shift to just an arm around his shoulders, guiding him in the direction of the couch, so they can sit. "That sounds pretty awful. I'd go nuts, if that were Steve. How'd you handle it back then?"
"I went nuts," he says, and he can be wry about it now. Sometimes. "I stayed busy and I just hoped he'd come home eventually. I never locked the doors. I left the porch light on, I kept buying things I knew he liked."
"Yep, I can see it. At least this time you know where he is," B offers, sitting them both down, keeping their knees touching and flesh hand on Lark's shoulder as he sets about sorting for a CD to put on. "Does that help any?"
"I trust that he'll always come home now. It just hurts to think of him in a home I'm not in with him. Sometimes." A soft sigh. "I used to get homesick for Los Angeles. It's my city. It's...strange being homesick for a person."
B slides one of the homemade CDs into the player, and Bon Jovi starts playing, not loud, but loud enough to recognize. It's a mix of songs he learned on the Barge, some his piano songs but some not. "That's one that's familiar to me. As much as the Barge feels like home to me, these days, it's the people as much as the place that I missed when I was stuck out in the world."
"There is that," B agrees, and thinks he ought to try talking to her again soon.
He settles back, music taken care of, to wrap an arm around Lark's shoulders again, rubbing his far shoulder warmly. "You tried to hurt the last ship? What happened?"
"I was an inmate and I wanted to go home." As simple and selfish as that. "No one communicated with the old Barge that I know of. Not like we have with this one. But back then it wouldn't have mattered to me anyway; I wanted to hurt the Admiral."
"Guessing that didn't work out so hot." Since the Admiral is still alive and, if not well, at least okay, and still in charge of them. "And you graduated eventually."
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After Alec's departure
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"Hey."
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He'd be gone, if it were him, quite likely. But Lark's made of stronger stuff. And possibly less codependent.
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Not so long ago, he would have isolated himself to try to lick his wounds and recover. He's learned that doesn't work. (Doesn't always stop the impulse, no, but he's learning.)
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He also sets the player and CR cases down on the nearest flat surface, and turns to Lark to offer his hands in a "come get a hug?" kind of gesture. His two years out in Steve's world has fixed his touching problem, but he's not going to force it on Lark, either.
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And it's not strictly true. Alec has the pack at home--except he's never felt like one of them, he views them as Lark's.
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"When we were first together, Alec would take off for weeks. Months. I'd never know where he was going or if he'd be back."
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He listens to a few bars of the song. "I think sometimes of everything I did to try to hurt the ship. The old one--I never tried to hurt this one."
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He settles back, music taken care of, to wrap an arm around Lark's shoulders again, rubbing his far shoulder warmly. "You tried to hurt the last ship? What happened?"
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