hostileworkenvironment | do you want cyborgs?

[barry or cyril-- those were the two choices archer had for this stakeout for a JUNO executive. it's a simple mission; shoot him in the head and tank their stocks so malory can get their own agency a step up and dug further into the (presumably) legal espionage operations they're running like some kind of hellish tick filled with alcohol. it's morally questionable, but sympathy only goes so far when JUNO agents have spent so long trying to drop all the...

...what's the new agency called? archer, unsheathing his combat knife, realises he doesn't know. people seem avoidant on the topic, the same way they were about lana when he'd first woken up.]

God damn it, we better not still be the Figgis Agency, [he mutters to himself, twirling the blade around for a moment before driving it into the motel's shitty plaster wall. figures malory had skimped on lodging-- she seems to be very fond of the excuse that barry being a cyborg means that they technically only need to pay for one room. archer's inclined to agree.

they may have bonded on that factory mission, but that doesn't erase literal years of being terrorized by a criminally insane cyborg. that, and... he's actually pretty sure barry literally doesn't even need to eat or sleep. archer makes a mental note to kick the guy out before he inevitably blacks out drunk-- don't need to wake up to barry standing over him with those red eyes glowing in the dark. he's had enough nightmares that ended like that.

archer pulls the knife up through the wall, idly starting to leave his mark while barry's in the other room doing all the work. it's kind of annoying how hard it is to get a rise out of him now. not like cyril, who'd practically had a mental breakdown at the idea of spending more than ten minutes alone in a room with him. he smirks at the memory, completing the gigantic dick on the wall in a minute or so.]

Hey, dickhead! [he calls out, sauntering into the kitchen and grabbing some scotch out the fridge. god, at least this place is stocked, though... that box of take out probably shouldn't be opened.] Have you calibrated the...

[pop goes the top of the bottle as he twists it off.]

...Whatevers yet?

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[he reaches out a little hesitantly, not unlike a kid being given a new toy and told if they lose it then they'll get their tiny bare ass slapped with a ping pong paddle. archer also doesn't deign go into more detail about dutch dylan and some of the horrific things his subconscious put forward the cyborg was capable of.

he ends up sliding his palm over barry's, fingers awkwardly resting on his wrist like he's already forgotten what he was doing with it.]

Warm, [he mutters, then starts to slightly tilt forward again.]

Hey, hey, don't do that. You have to stay up, okay?

[ Yes, he was in a frat and yes, he does have experience with this exact situation. Barry would honestly prefer to just... stay like this for a while, feeling the movement of Archer's shoulder against his in time with his respirations (which he's been keeping a figurative eye on since his mission partner sat down), the slight weight of someone else's hand on his arm, but he doesn't, instead sliding his other hand under Archer's near arm to straighten him up a bit. He's more likely to stay alert that way. ]

Do you think you can hold down some coffee? Maybe some water?

[ Because he is going to be insanely hung over come morning. ]

You don't have to act like this is my first time, you... Barry. [he says petulantly, hand staying where it was over barry's arm even after he's retracted it like his brain is still processing it's not there anymore.] I'll take coffee if it's coffee liqueur.

[barry still thinks archer can get hungover, or ever sobers up enough to be hungover. that's cute. archer burps into his hand.]

Lemme just get a quick power blackout into the mix and I'll be good to kill some idiots.

Archer, no. And it is your first time getting blackout drunk in three years, and while I think we've kinda passed the point of your liver returning to its natural state, at the very least your tolerance has clearly gone down.

[ God, it's hard not to get irritated at the guy, even knowing he has a disease, even knowing he just woke up from a coma and is probably just trying to cope in the only way he knows how. Barry can't imagine Mallory's parenting was particularly hands-on. Or loving. Or... parenting, really. ]

Look, why do you want to get drunk right now? Be honest with me.

[it kind of throws him for a moment to be asked why. he doesn't have some deep, self-reflective answer ready even if he is vaguely aware of why he does it. there is a huge collision of multiple concepts in his brain right now; barry being his friend (big one, underlined, lots of question marks around it), barry giving a shit about him, everything he's dealing with on waking up (imagine sparkly poop emoji stickers around that one) and the fact his usual bullshit isn't working. the fact he doesn't actually really want his usual bullshit to work.

realising that last one is... sobering. he doesn't want to fuck this mission up not because he cares about it but because he doesn't want to upset barry.

that in itself is pretty hard to reconcile. he never even really felt like that when he was on missions with lana.]

I'm already drunk, [he mutters a little lamely, clearly uncomfortable, clamming up now it's all going beyond surface level. archer runs a hand through his hair, suddenly very interested in not looking at barry at all.] It's not because of you, or anything. I mean, shit, Barry, not everything is about you.

[the insult falls extremely flat, and archer is all too aware of the fact he doesn't actually have an answer to the question. he taps his hand on his knee a little awkwardly, cogs in his brain almost audiably grinding away to try and find something to fill the silence with.]

Wasn't saying it was, Buddy. I think there's some underlyin' problems here.

[ It's not like he intends to force Archer into talking about them or anything, because you don't really achieve anything with force, emotionally speaking. They're probably dealing with a lot more than just the aftermath of the coma here, honestly. This has clearly been building up for a while. ]

I think it's about how much you're going through right now. The world kept moving but you're still the you you were three years ago and that's hard. And the physical therapy- look, I know. When I shattered my femur it took months for me to be able to walk properly again, to say nothing of how long it took to return to the field. [ He gives Archer's shoulder a gentle squeeze. Thank you, Krieger, for making sure the fine motor skills on this factory model got returned to what they were when he was residing in a purely organic body. ] I know you're doing the best you can.

[no shit, he thinks. he'd spent those three months after he'd woken up doing nothing but "void stuff" and hating himself for not being able to walk properly. drinking all day and awkwardly shuffling around his penthouse-- it was like a glimpse into his damn future that he didn't care for.

you're not ready, is the thought that keeps echoing in his head, even though that's not a concept sterling archer should recognise. he always bounces back. he's the world's greatest secret agent. if he can't do that then--

his shoulder is tense under barry's grip and something flits across his expression for a moment, something like he expects barry to keep squeezing until the bone splinters under his fingers like it was a matchstick.]

I'm sorry, [he says.] about your leg. I should've just pulled you up.

[he's said sorry about the femur before, when trexler tried to snipe archer into odin employment to piss malory off, but archer never really seemed genuine about anything. he sounds it now-- with all the weight of actually coming closer to understanding how much barry had suffered with the damage he'd done. for no reason.]

I. [ That's some major character development. Barry doesn't really know what he expected - that they'd just move forward and disregard it? Did he think Archer was incapable of feeling remorse? Either way, he's... caught wildly off guard, because Archer's different, too, now, and he hadn't expected to get this kind of treatment. ]

Thanks, Archer. I'm sorry about... everything that came after that.

[ He doesn't bother to elaborate, because there's no need to, and also because listing out all of the evil shit he did would probably take all night. ]

Huh.

[an extremely small step, maybe, but it felt good.]

Guess we're both pretty fucked up.

[he snorts at that - humourlessly but not derisively - like it's some serious food for thought.]

I'm, uh. I'm gonna pass out now.

[it's a controlled descent; he shifts so he flops down face first onto barry's bed, breathing evenly and snoring slightly.]

do you want cyborgs?

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