A week and five days, that’s exactly how long it’d been since Tate had been shot by Warmonger. He hadn’t gone back to the hospital after leaving. Instead he decided to take care of his wounds on his own. He healed faster than people should, but it was still a slow and painful process for him. He couldn’t work, he couldn’t go hunt down Walter, and he couldn’t go out to fight crime. For a few days he hardly even got out of bed. Refusing to answer his phone or the door, only accepting food if it was left with no one in range to speak to him. It was probably a good thing that Tate had recently moved out of his family’s shared apartment just a couple of doors down into his own. Their new landlord was a blessing for them, especially since he was the grandson of the elderly South Korean woman that used to live in the apartment Tate was currently in. He’d learned Korean as a young child just to be able to speak to her, and she’d been a large part of Tate’s entire life.
No one could blame Tate for being avoidant. Especially not after the way Penelope reacted when she saw him. Like any mother she was relieved her son was alive, but that quickly turned to anger on why he was making Tana and Ky hide what happened to him from her. After that escapade Tate had to deal with Julia seeing all of his “hurts”, which made her sob uncontrollably for over an hour. What was worse, according to Tana, they’d all heard a loud crash one night and she’d found her brother in the bathroom of his apartment with his knuckles bleeding and a broken mirror. He’d been hunched over the sink, breathing heavily, staring into what was left of the shards on the wall.
Giovanni had dealt with intense anxiety for half of his life already. He had been on and off several medications in an attempt to help with his paranoia and panic attacks that sometimes came with that very bad anxiety. For all intents and purposes, he knew what a breakdown looked like. The slow descent into a full blown episode with panic attacks that felt like your heart was going to leap out of your chest and take a nosedive off the Praxis Industries Building. Self hatred that only added extra on top of the stress that you were enduring. Even just looking at something the wrong way could cause you to fall apart completely. From the reckless way he’d handled his own life to running away from the hospital to him pushing everyone out, Tate had all the telltale signs.
Hoping that picking up extra slack around the neighborhood in Conduit’s absence would help with some of the weight Tate continued to carry, they all pitched in. Nia, Tana, and Giovanni. Trying to clean up even the smallest amount of crime they could, wanting it to make him feel even the smallest bit better. It probably had the opposite effect, only making Tate want to get back out there even worse. The strain that his powers could put his body through made it impossible until he was fully healed, though. Plus it was obvious that Tate was, once again, avoiding anything that had to do with Gio.
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The roles were reversed for once. As kids, Tate would always climb up through Gio’s bedroom window and spend the night. It was impossible now, as the latter lived in a penthouse apartment just over a thousand feet above the streets of NEC. Normally Giovanni would have just knocked on the front door, but as he scaled up the fire escape to the third floor it was obvious why he couldn’t as he was in his Sentinel gear. He hadn’t even seen Tate since the night he found him after running away from the hospital, nor had he directly heard from him. It was like they were back in high school all over again, purposely avoiding each other. Gio had grown up a lot since then, though. He wasn’t going to misunderstand and allow them to just drift apart this time.
He’d peered in the best he could before tapping on the window. It took a few moments before Tate came around the corner and eventually unlocked and opened the window. It got stuck a couple of times, but once he got it up Gio didn’t even wait for him to say come in. Stumbling in as he shut the window and drew the blinds so he could take his mask off. Tate looked absolutely unamused. Crossing his arms over his chest as he rolled his eyes and let out a puff of air that blew some loose strands of his long hair up from his face. The bruising around his face had almost completely cleared up, but his left hand was wrapped tightly in a bandage and the hoodie he had on covered his other injuries.
Gio was, admittedly, a little worse for wear himself. He’d been thrown through a wall and dented the hood of a car with his body as he was slammed into it by a man twice his size. He knew he had a cut on his back and was going to be bruised for a while. None of that mattered though, it wasn’t going to stop him from talking about what was going on. Making Tate talk? That would be another feat in itself. That much was obvious as Tate walked past him like he hadn’t just allowed Gio to stumble into his apartment while wearing all of his gear.
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“I think I have some old clothes of yours. Hope you still fit into your clothes from high school.” Tate disappeared into a room that’s doorway was in his kitchen and reemerged a few minutes later with the promised clothes and a jacket. “Here, the heat’s fucked up again in the building. They’re supposed to fix it tomorrow morning.”
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Gio took the clothes quietly, looking at the shirt and wondering how exactly he was supposed to fit his arms into the sleeves. They had been clothes of his from high school just like Tate said, but ones that he wore whenever he was a sophomore and a fraction of the size he was now. He wasn't entirely sure where he was supposed to change at, as Tate just turned around to walk back over to the kitchen. Gio watched for a bit as he cracked a window and lit up a cigarette. The lights were so dim in the apartment that the flame from the lighter casted harsh shadows across such a soft face. Amber brown eyes looked over as Gio attempted to get all the buckles and zippers of his suit undone, struggling with them as he was too busy watching Tate.
As soon as their eyes locked Gio looked away, but Tate continued to watch him. He could feel the other's gaze even after he turned away, inspecting him. Glancing back not only confirmed that, but revealed that those beautiful eyes were slowly raking over his entire frame. From head to toe, just taking in the view. He looked forward again, and returned to struggling with his suit. Trying hard to not think about the fact he was changing in the middle of a living room. Having roaming eyes on him while he changed was nothing new as someone that had played sports for almost all of his life, but Tate was different. His gaze made Gio nervous.
Gio nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the floor creak directly behind him and felt a foreign hand on his side. Tate had only taken a couple of drags off the cigarette before putting it in an ashtray and coming to help unzip the rest of Gio's suit. Finally he could peel himself out, letting out a sigh of relief to not have anything pressing on his sore ribs. As quickly as Tate came to help, he'd returned to his position by the cracked window with the cigarette again.
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"Looks like you got pretty beat up." The tone Tate had taken as he spoke revealed a lot about the way he felt. More than his eyes did as Gio turned around to look at him, confronting him without even speaking. He sounded concerned and maybe even a bit jaded. “You’re supposed to play a game in a week, how are you gonna handle that with those ribs?”
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Gio frowned, attempting to tug the shirt over his head and ultimately failing. He knew that Tate had clothes he could fit into. The guy often wore baggy shirts. This one would be a crop top on Gio’s frame if he ever managed to get his shoulders into it. It left Giovanni stuck in the shirt with his arms up over his head, which caused Tate to laugh. “Seriously?” He let out a huff, managing to wiggle himself out of the trap he’d gotten caught in. “That’s how I can make you laugh? Wait, no, forget about that. How I’ll handle the game is none of your concern. I’ll be okay.” He watched as Tate fully put out the cigarette and closed the window before treading across the kitchen again and disappearing behind the same door from before.
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Returning with a different shirt to offer to Gio, he glared up at him. “Right, I forgot that you’ve been kicking crime’s ass and playing football on the weekends since high school.” As soon as Gio took the shirt from him, Tate crossed his arms and leaned against the island in the kitchen. “You just need to be more careful.”
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“I’m sorry, what was that? Be more careful?” Gio tugged the shirt on over his head and finally peeled the suit off his legs. Standing there in his boxer briefs as he attempted to get his old sweatpants on. They were slightly too short, but that didn’t matter. “This coming from the man that nearly died almost two weeks ago?” That elicited another glare from Tate. His nostrils flared slightly and his brows furrowed. Gio was in dangerous territory now.
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“Why the fuck are you here, Giovanni?”
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There it was. Why was he there? He’d wanted to come and talk. Confront Tate about why he’d been avoiding him, even though he was fairly certain he knew the reason. He wanted to talk with him about the clear stress and anxiety he’d been under. At one point in their life Tate had known every single thing about Gio. He stood by his side through every pressure that beared down until he cracked and helped bring him back down to reality. Was it really so wrong that he wanted to be that for Tate?
“Because I’m worried about you. That’s why I’m here.” Gio knew that just with those two sentences he was about to unleash a storm. If the Crawford family was awful as a collective with one thing, it was accepting any form of help from anyone. All headstrong and stuck in their ways, believing that they could handle anything on their own no matter what it was. It made Gio wonder if it was passed down through generations. If they were truly all alike in that aspect.
Almost exactly like he’d predicted, Tate pushed himself off the island and started to walk away. Arms uncrossed, but hands shoved into the pocket of his hoodie. Gio himself had finally gotten the jacket pulled on that Tate gave him. No longer standing there half naked, which was sure to make the conversation itself less awkward.
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“I don’t need you to worry about me.” He started to walk past Gio, but had his arm quickly caught at his elbow by a large hand. Tate stared down at the hand before glaring up at the perpetrator, as if the look alone was going to make the man let go. “I’ll tell you exactly what I keep telling Tana: I’m fine.”
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“Bullshit, Tate. You can lie to them all you want, but not me. I see through it and I know they do, too.” Gio squeezed his bicep slightly, adding emphasis onto his words with it. “You can talk to me.”
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Without hesitation Tate yanked his arm free, turning away from Gio to try and hide his face. “I’m not lying and I have nothing to say to you.” That was his way of saying to get out without actually saying it. The topic was touchy, but the conversation needed to be had.
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“Tate, if you were fine you wouldn’t have nearly thrown your life away like it meant nothing. People who are okay don’t do that shit, they don’t step in front of bullets that they could have avoided. You don’t-”
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“Don’t you get it?!” Tate interrupted Gio, whipping around to look at him. His cheeks were slightly red and his eyes matched, as he was attempting to hold back tears. “My life doesn’t matter, Giovanni. Not compared to yours or anyone else’s. I’m not important! You just-”
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This time it was Gio’s turn to interrupt Tate. He couldn’t stand it, hearing someone he cared about so much talking about themselves in such a way. Watching as tears filled up and caused those dazzling amber eyes to squeeze together so tight. Seeing the way Tate’s fists balled up and his jaw flexed, the way he pushed his hair back off his forehead as he spoke, how even the tops of his ears were turning red — they were all obvious signs of how distressed Tate truly was. Though to interrupt, Gio didn’t use any words.
He closed the gap between the two of them and grabbed Tate’s face, holding it in place while he pressed their lips together. He only gave him a few pecks, pulling away briefly each time, before fully kissing Tate and keeping their lips together. Even though his eyes were closed he could feel the hesitation in Tate’s body, the tension that huddled there until he finally felt hands touch his cheeks and slide back to rest on his jaw and neck. Tate kissed Gio back like there was no air left in the room. Eager, desperate, and completely passionate. Everything else melted away, and nothing else in that moment mattered but the way their lips seemed to fit together perfectly.
It was Gio that pulled away first. He rested their foreheads together and gently caressed Tate’s temples with his thumbs. He had to catch his breath, as apparently he’d forgotten he could breathe through his nose or even at all. Tate’s hands moved from his neck to gently hold both of Gio’s wrists, hanging onto them like he wanted Gio’s hands to stay in that position forever.
“You’re more important to me than anyone else, Tate. Your life matters to me.” And he'd never meant anything else more in his entire life.
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As tensions rise and snap, not all of the choices made are bad ones. A grandstanding act finally pulled off by Giovanni, as he found the courage after so many years to admit his feelings. To not only himself, but the person the affections were pointed towards. For someone so terrified of what could go wrong, his fear of not knowing was the push he needed. This is the beginning blossom of a beautiful relationship.
