He hesitated for a moment. Or, perhaps hesitation wasn't the right word. Observation was more correct. Barnaby observed from the threshold of the office, taking in the space before him. Mostly he looked at Martín del Mar and how the man fit into his new domain.

He saw the documents, already piled high onto the new desk. Witnessed the glow of a computer screen and how it illuminated Mars' skin. Not enough to hide the dark circles under his eyes, though.

He noticed how the underboss hardly looked up upon his arrival. So engrossed in his work that there was barely a blip of recognition in those amber eyes Barnaby knew so well.

"... No. I just wanted to check on you." He confessed hollowly, finally peeling himself from the doorway and into the room. The closer he got to Martín del Mar's desk, however, the more obvious it became how little time the man had spent away from it.

"When was the last time you slept?" More of a rhetorical question than anything else. Whatever the answer, it would be too long.

"You need to rest, Martín."

Martín del Mar

☉

"What I need is to do my job."

Small sparks of Martín del Mar's flaming anger sputtered out with that tense statement. A brief glimpse into the man's roaring inner turmoil, but just enough to light the kindling of Barnaby's own repressed emotions.

On a normal day he would have taken it in stride; the words would have bounced off his armored ego without a chink to be found. But today, it stung more than it should. Elicited an unwelcomed pang in his chest.

Snapped him out of his comatose apathy.

"Not well. Something you'd know if you'd—"

Barnaby was barely able to cut himself off. He sighed and shook his head, looking away from Martín del Mar. The chair in front of the Underboss' desk remained empty, with Barnaby preferring to stand beside it, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles appeared white.

Martín del Mar

☉

He is selfish.

And he knows it. Has known it, for a very long time. BARNABY FINCH was well acquainted with the satisfaction of getting what he wanted.

But this? This conversation brought him no satisfaction whatsoever. In fact, he felt entirely out of control, even as the Underboss before him appeared so logical in his talk of duty and doing better.

His words made sense. Of course they did. This was Martín del Mar , after all, someone Barnaby knew operated at a higher level than most. Achieved more than most. Had a drive that was stronger and more robust than anyone Barnaby had ever met.

And yet, selfishly, in this moment of ignited emotions - he didn't care. About the League, about Sootopolis, about imminent threats coming their way... or even about ROCKET. Logic had been left behind in his dormitory bed.

"Yes." A lie. These heightened feelings were no more planned than the way his voice cracked under the tension of the moment. Mars' calm demeanor only added fuel to the flame.

"I need you."

Why am I not a priority to you?

"Just like you needed me that night at my apartment. I was there for you at your worst."

Why couldn't you do the same for me?

Martín del Mar

☉

Martín del Mar's words struck to the core, each syllable stabbing at Barnaby's already fractured resolve. Their intensity practically burned away any rebuke he could possibly give, leaving only shame and regret in their wake.

He was right. Mars did so much for everyone, gave so much of himself, and in the end he still had BARNABY FINCH's wellbeing in mind.

"I’m working my ass off because I can’t stand the thought of putting you in danger again.”

The hollow ache in his heart swelled to an acute, throbbing pain. And when Martín del Mar lowered his voice to a whisper, beckoning him closer, the pain only intensified to a debilitating degree. It took all of Barnaby's power to force his feet forward, to round the corner of the desk, to stand beside Mars where he leaned with the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers.

But in the end, BARNABY FINCH couldn't pretend anymore. He couldn't reject the emotions that brought him here any longer. It was needlessly hurting both of them.

"... I'm sorry." He squeezed his fists together, his nails biting into the flesh of his palms. "I just—"

Barnaby paused, extending an arm to steady himself on the edge of the desk. As he did so, strands of black hair fell like a curtain across his face, hiding his eyes and any discernable expression.

His voice, though, couldn't conceal the truth. In a hoarse whisper Barnaby confessed:

"I was scared, Martín."

It was with a trembling hand that he then reached out - seeking... what? Things that he thought he'd never need from another person. Comfort. Solace. Reassurance. His hand was there, hovering, for Martín del Mar to take if he chose to do so.

"When I saw you go after Azelf—" Barnaby took a shaky breath, swallowing hard.

"I was so scared I was going to lose you."

Martín del Mar

☉

Part of him hated this. This damn vulnerability. He'd never felt this way before, let alone admitted to it aloud. It reminded Barnaby of his youth, before he'd decided to curtail his emotional capacity. A time he did not care to repeat ever again.

He remembered it all too well. The helplessness of hinging your feelings upon those of others. The pain when all of it eventually fell apart. The unmet expectations. The heartbreak.

On a certain level he knew this hatred was unfounded, though, at least where Mars was concerned. Borne out of what he'd just confessed to... fear of losing someone so important to him. Fear of what that truly meant. Fear of letting another person have so much influence over him.

And yet... the tenderness of Martín del Mar 's hand pulling him in, the feeling of the other man's arms wrapped tightly around his waist... it brought relief on a scale Barnaby couldn't even comprehend. His body didn't even think to resist.

He leaned into Mars' embrace, sliding his own arms around the Underboss' neck, pulling him closer. Gentle lips were then pressed to the crown of the other's head, delivering the softest kiss he could muster. It was difficult, considering how his body continued to tremble.

Barnaby breathed in, then, his head buried in auburn hair, cherishing Martín del Mar 's familiar, comforting scent. Orange. Cedarwood. Bergamot. The slightest wisp of spearmint. One, two, three breaths. In and out. In and out. In and out.

Slowly, his body began to still.

"... I know." He feels the same.

This admittance was confirmation enough for BARNABY FINCH .

"I can go if you have to work." He whispered, his words filtering through stands of Mars' hair. "Just tell me what you need."

Martín del Mar

☉

It was cathartic, in a way. A relief. An emotional release.

Despite the tumult of this interaction, there was an overwhelming comfort in knowing that they both needed one another. Feelings reciprocated under the darkest of circumstances. Mars gripped him tighter, and Barnaby pressed closer in kind. It was a mutual affection.

"...I’ve lost too many people I care for, Barnaby. I can’t lose you too."

The words cut into him, splitting his relief into ribbons of worry. Barnaby could almost feel the heavy grief falling from Martín del Mar's lips. The immediate response that came to mind was not spoken aloud, however:

"I'll always be here. You'll never lose me."

There was no way he could make that promise in good faith. It would be a lie. One that would never come as easily as the many others he'd told in his life. Their work was inherently dangerous, after all. No day was guaranteed.

Even so, Barnaby's instinct was to reassure. He needed to be strong. Vulnerable or not, he couldn't wallow in his fear forever.

"You won't." Barnaby pulled away then, still within Mars' embrace, just enough to slip a hand to the other's cheek. He searched for eye contact while cradling Martín del Mar's jaw, stroking the flesh there with a gentle thumb.

"I don't plan on going anywhere. You're struck with me, remember?"

Spoken through a small, comforting smile.

All while a single teardrop slowly slid down his face.

Martín del Mar

☉