For someone who'd been assigned a career since-- maybe not birth, but definitely since being sold to an alien shortly after birth-- Luther finds himself enjoying his small smattering of odd jobs. The apple orchard, some time at his favorite barbeque pit, and ever since February, some light stripping.

Admittedly, at first it had been about chasing something from a life he hadn't really lived. Now? He likes it as much as that other Luther had, and the money is good.

The management seems to like him too, if getting custom-made outfit is any indicator. He leaves the astronaut behind, but sexy construction worker and Officer Hardnipples do numbers.

The newest costume comes in about a week after some pop diva releases a song about whips and chains and getting tied up. He could, of course, try it on at work, get someone else to do the harness, but he has a much, much better idea.

"Hey, I'm here," he calls out as he lets himself into Kallus's apartment, box of leather under one arm.

Yeah, he has a way better idea.

Luther holds on for a little over a week before he hits his limit.

It's longer than a week and a handful of days, of course. It's been months since the Hotel Oblivion got crammed into his head, a whole tangle of realizations and plot twists and feelings he's only barely attempted to put in order.

Any attempt to work this knot of fucked up Hargreeves shit leads to Dad, not Dad ripping him open and bleeding him out, which is a shitty thing to remember, to burst back into the waking world with phantom pains. And should any attempt get any further into the tangle, enough that he sets his death aside, he's left with the very worst thing, the thing he can't touch at all.

I heard a rumor you stay.

The knot won't stay tied like it used to, tight enough to keep everything about Allison on the inside. And there's no reason it should be coming undone now. No fucking reason.

I heard a rumor you want me.

It almost tears out of him at the breakfast table, and no amount of exercise burns off the excess feeling. He takes it instead to a local junk yard where the owner doesn't mind him busting shit up.

That, at least, feels good. Appliances crunching into blocks of concrete, rebar spearing massive rolls of carpet, a totaled out care thrown overhead at another.

Luther loses time, hands scraping up, muscles aching, bits of glass clinging to his arms, and none of it erases the feeling of Allison's struggling body against the pool table.

He starts to tear apart blown-out tires, aware of the sun starting to sink in the sky-- too easy. Back to the blocks of concrete then, huge broken chunks that Luther throws and hammers into one another, his ears filled with his own breathing and heartbeat.

Not gone enough to miss he's not alone in the clearing of wrecked shit he's made. "What," he says, almost dully, fully expecting to be told he needs to leave.

Luther's out for a run when he hears it: the weirdest high pitched wailing he's ever heard. Loud enough that while he can't see a source, it still catches his attention, but nothing he'd mistake for a car alarm or anything mechanical. A hurt animal, he guesses, and after he's made that guess, continuing his run seems wrong.

He tracks down the sound quickly enough, finding a small, murmuring group of people standing in front of a gated driveway. The people, a couple of other runners, some kids and an old lady, break apart when Luther gets close. He's used to that; what surprises him is the deer caught between the metal bars, pinned and heaving, letting out that wailing sound.

"We called Animal Control already," one of the runners tells him. "It's pretty stuck in there."

The deer's not only stuck, it's matted with blood on one side, its leg jutting strangely. Luther watches its eyes, the whites rolling around the dark, and steps forward. Not exactly a kitten in a tree, but helping defenseless creatures has always been one of the motives keeping him tied to the Academy path. "I've got this," he tells the crowd. "Stand back, just in case."

And with that, Luther kneels down, shucking his hoodie and getting his hands on the metal bars. They shriek too, as he forces them further apart, but they give and then Luther has his arms full of wounded deer.

"Hey, buddy, you're okay, we'll, uh, we'll find a vet."

If Luther's honest with himself, there's not a lot of nights he's enjoyed as much as that night at the club. If he's even more honest, it's because of what had happened after the club, where for once his brain had shut off in just the right way and allowed him to take a near stranger home and actually enjoy it, this time. He thinks it had been a mutually enjoyable experience.

Really, he thinks that despite how inexperienced he is, and that he'd never really given too much conscious thought to having sex with another man-- he thinks it was good.

And he thinks about it a lot, spending a couple weeks with staring at Neil's contact in his phone and thinking about that night.

Luther doesn't really stop thinking about it, until he finally, very carefully types a message to Neil, saying that he'd like to see him again. He can only hope he didn't wait too long.

Either way, when they're finally set to meet up in the park, where there's coffee and ice cream and maybe even food trucks, it's about a month later and while Luther remains aware of implications down the road, he honestly does just want to see Neil again, to talk to him.

And yeah, the other stuff, but Luther only looks like a wild ape-man. He has self-control.

[leave a message at the beep]