Tag Archives: Joshua Watson

Black Hole Home

It has been seven days, twenty two hours, and forty minutes since Brock left the apartment. Missions as a seeker take time, Josh knows this, and he knows he has to stay behind.

Him and Burke keep up the house. There’s no point in streaming anymore, not here, not now, but the two of them occupy themselves with any number of things. Lately, Josh has been reading, laying on the couch with a stack he stole from one of Burke’s many, many bookshelves.

If he’s being honest, the sheer amount of romance novels among the physics books and research articles is more of a surprise than he thought. Burke is doing his usual, pacing, researching, reading and writing down his recent examinations of the situation they’re in and the last bits of information Jasper and Haruta had brought back to him weeks ago now.

The house was quiet, this is honestly what they both preferred. When it was just them…well, the two of them, Sosa, and Axel, the house would be left in a similar state like this, the absences of them felt oddly heavy in Josh’s chest.

He knows that Sosa is safe, they heard from Stout that Houston made it to the desert safely.

He knows why Brock stays out so long.

Josh puts the book down against his chest and closes his eyes. While they were expecting impending doom through all of this, it’s the waiting, the nothingness, that exhausts him the most.

The spiral Josh is falling down breaks with a knock at the door.

Josh looks up and Burke is already moving to the door. There’s no real warning, when someone comes to visit, but the beds are always made. Josh isn’t quick to admit he enjoys the company, but he’d be remiss to shut anyone out. When Burke opens the door, he hears him gasp.

A quiet “hi” sends Burke down on one knee, he hugs the person in front of him.

NaN. The kid is a little taller now, the glitching and static floats above the pair as Burke holds him tight.

Josh gets up as Burke is letting go. Burke laughs then “Help me up would you?” NaN extends a hand, and Burke braces himself as he gets back to his feet.

Burke is leading NaN into the living room when the kid spots him.

NaN stares up at him for a moment, blinking.

Josh smiles.

NaN runs forward, hugging him, pushing into his stomach.

“Oof” Josh braces the kid, surprised at the rush.

NaN’s voice is quiet, he turns his head to he side so Burke can hear him too.

“I missed you guys.”

Burke walks over to both of them, his hand resting on Josh’s shoulder, “We missed you too. Have you been doing okay?” It’s a loaded question, Burke looks at him with an immediate regret in his eyes.

NaN sighs anyways, “I–do not like Philly.”

Josh mutters “Does anyone?”

Burke hits him lightly on the shoulder.

“Is that what brought you here?” Burke’s voice is soft. The same softness he heard seasons ago when NaN first arrived.

“It’s the roam…actually.”

Right.

That’s right.

Brock has told them about running into roamers, it’s the only reason they can still see Jas now after all this time.

The poor kid probably didn’t want it to be this way. He knows how hard it can be when you can’t settle.

“Do you know how long you can stay kiddo?” Burke’s voice is gentle.

NaN sighs, “I know I can stay for a bit…at least.”

Josh cuts in, pitting his hands on NaN’s shoulders, “Well hey, we have a bedroom ready, why don’t you rest, and I’ll put dinner on.”

NaN looks up at him and smiles.

The kid is quick to hug Josh again, and a moment later he’s hugging Burke.

With one last “Thanks” NaN walks to his bedroom like routine.

Burke looks up at Josh. His smile is almost nostalgic.

“Do you want help with dinner?”

Josh nods at his partner.

At least for tonight, the house will get to feel a bit more like home.

Cling

Josh is ogling him, he can tell.

He’s standing in the living room, staring wistfully into the dining room where he is standing, slowly putting on the parts of his space suit for the first time in over two decades.

Brock realizes that Josh never saw him in the space suit last time.

He moves to stretch feeling the layers of fabric and metal and polymer shift with him.

Then his husband wolf whistles.

“Alright alright that’s enough,” Brock sighs at him, walking towards the grinning man.

“What? Can a man not enjoy his husband all dressed up? Is it a crime to appreciate my cool astronaut husband?” Josh’s arms meet him as Brock gets closer, they slink around his hips. He pulls him in close.

“First off, not an astronaut, second off, I didn’t know you were in space suits, hun.”

Josh laughs at that, “Tell you the truth, I’m really not.”

Brock doesn’t expect that to be the end of the sentence, the silence sits for a moment before Josh speaks again.

“Just wanted to appreciate you…before you left.”

Brock takes his glove off of his hand and rests his palm against Josh’s cheek, “You know that I’ll be home soon.”

“I know I just–” Josh’s voice catches, the tell tale sign of anxiety is clear on his face.

“I know,” Brock supplies, “And I will not leave you, under any circumstances.” “You’re gonna keep writing things down right?” Josh asks him, glancing at the bookshelf that housed his journal from the last major expedition.

“Yes, obviously I need to keep scientific data and observations, but I won’t leave you empty handed either.”

Josh smiles at that, “That’s all I ask.”

Brock’s hand moves from Josh’s cheek to the back of his head.

Josh’s arms hold tighter around his waist.

Brock kisses him.

He kisses him for a long time.

Enough to savor it, to remember the cool touch of his skin.

To remember the shape of his face and his lips and the texture of his hair.

Josh is holding his waist tighter, clinging to his husband tight.

He’s savoring it too.

He didn’t savor it then, when he left for the sun all those years ago.

But he will damn sure savor it now, and he will do this, again and again and again and again, every return from the void, every expedition he goes on.

If nothing else, Brock Watson is a man of science.

But Brock Watson is a man who loves first and foremost.

There Will Be No Song For Him

“Six days till event horizon,” Brock tells him. It’s barely a whisper, with his head pressed against the top of his, the man behind him, much like everyone else, is so, so tired.

Where up until now, they’ve managed some semblance of faux stability, the wake of the end of the world makes Burke’s head spin.

They have a game in Kan–Oxford, now, apparently. He still can barely stomach the change. Death upon death upon death upon death, the feeds and the ticker and the announcements play off in every stadium like a pained rattle.

The universe, every bit of their existence is feeling this world ending tug, and the closer they make it to the black hole, the more he thinks of the darkness, the more he wishes it would just envelop him already.

The day passes.

The feed rattles.

“The Seattle Garages have reached the Hall of Flame…the Seattle Garages appear to be…

The word is muffled by screams all across the field. The Garages are beloved, in some parts of the world, the band plays on often beyond the city of Seattle. Burke has never been able to stomach the noise.

Especially not now.

He’s falling. He feels the Earth fall from under him.

There’s pairs of arms, two to be exact, they are cold and comforting but they aren’t enough, they aren’t enough, they couldn’t be enough.

Burke’s vision is full of static and feathers and blinding liquid salt. He’s scrubbing at his face, his glasses crumbling to the concrete dugout floor. His heart is screaming in every sense of the word, he should be gone in his partners arms right now, but he is here, fighting the bile and the erratic beat in his chest.

There are people crying far beyond where the Wings are huddled, mourning this team so beloved by the ignorance of the fans.

Burke could care less about them, about their musicians and their players. The death toll being as long as it is, the name is meaningless to everyone in these stands.

There will be no song.

He just lost his son.

The next four days, they don’t expect him to play, there’s some naive thought that the end of the world means the contract is broken.

He plays anyway.

When they’re edging the horizon on day 79, Joshua and Brock are by his side. They have stayed by him through all of this. The static and the gold and the feathers have faded now, the one fucked up gift the universe could grant him before it all ends.

The play their last game.

His partners squeeze his hand.

The darkness takes.

Early Morning Melody

Burke had concluded that today would be a day to lay in bed as he woke up with the sun. Warm light cracking through his blinds, instead of the regular urge to vacate the duvet, he took it as a chance to rest.

As far as he knew, the world would not miss him if he didn’t leave the sheets. No one was expecting him for anything in particular, and furthermore, Brock had told them at dinner that he would be out on expedition for the next few days.

As Burke relished in the silence, he let his eyes fall shut for another time, taking in a deep breath of the cotton around him.

The moment he hears the scratch of a record, his eyes snap open.

Even from the other room. The hum of the vinyl permeates through the wall. Burke closes his eyes again, for only a moment, before the smooth sound of a saxophone, and the soft accompaniment of a piano fills his ears.

He recognizes the record in an instant, even if it had never been played from the moment it entered his home.

Until now of course.

Burke slides out and shimmies off the covers. The cold air hits his bare chest as he cringes for only a second at the new sensation. He doesn’t bother with grabbing a shirt or slippers as he moves towards the door.

Opening it just a crack, Burke peaks into the living room.

The specter he sees is a welcomed one.

Joshua Watson, translucent just to the point of visibility, swaying gently in front of the record player to the music he, evidently, put on.

Burke opens his door a little more, & the old hinge makes a squeak. In an instant Josh stops swaying. He doesn’t move to stop the music, but instead turns to face the door.

“Burke?” Josh’s voice is barely louder than the music, a gentle bass among the melody. “Did I wake you up?”

Burke shakes his head. Opening the door further, he steps out into the living room to assure him. “I was already awake, just didn’t want to get out of bed until now…”

Josh smiles at him as the translucency of his form becomes more and more opaque.

“Well, it’s nice to see you out and about,” Josh says.

He hasn’t begun to sway to the music again, the record is in transition, the mere few seconds between songs. They’re standing in the silence, looking toward one another, before Josh opens his mouth to speak again.

“I realized—“ Burke turned his head, nodding at Josh to continue, “I realized that for as long as I’ve been here, we—you’ve never turned the record player on. I just thought I’d listen to something.”

This. This was true. When Burke first moved into the apartment, after stumbling into this world, after legal set him up with everything he’d need. The first thing he sought was a sense of normalcy. He sought out the things he knew, even if he was missing one of the most vital pieces.

His wife’s record collection was fresh on his brain back then. The records she’d play during dinner, the ones she’d throw on while cleaning the house, the quiet jazz records she’d listen to while painting, the sensual, beautiful music she would play to welcome him home from work—

It was hard. Realizing the degree in which he had lost his family the moment he stepped into this world. So the records served less as something he enjoyed, but as a reminder. Letting them collect dust wasn’t his intention, but well, here he was, listening to songs he remembers like yesterday for the first time in 45 years.

Burke smiles back at Josh, “I haven’t listened to this in a long time…”

Josh raises his eyebrows, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. My—“ the static itch in his throat catches Burke by surprise, his hand jumps to his throat as he swallows down the pain. Josh’s face is covered in concern; Josh has seen this many times before. Burke collects himself before continuing, “it’s an old favorite.”

Josh’s face goes soft. Walking towards Burke, he pulls him into a silent embrace.

Burke welcomes it wholeheartedly.

The two hold there, for a moment, & Burke relishes in it. While the thought of his wife is still simmering in his brain, he takes in Joshua fully, comforted by the man who has been in his company for so, so long.

The words that come out of Burke’s mouth at this moment are not impulsive. These words are tender, filled with the kind of love that Josh recognizes instantly.

“Dance with me?”

Joshua’s hands shift, moving in the space between Burke’s waistband and hips. Burke’s hands drift around Josh’s neck and shoulders. Josh let’s the distance fully close between them, resting his head on Burke’s shoulder.

At last, with the last slow track spinning into the air around them:

They dance.