Chapter Text
His eyes were closed, mouth open to let out the occasional moan whilst John slammed into him from behind.
His head was yanked backward almost violently, John's hand gripping his hair, reaching over to kiss and nibble at his neck, breathing.
"John," He moaned, "Oh, John, oh shit, fuck-"
John picked up pace, another hand stroking Adamska's cock, both of them so near, John traveling his kisses to his jaw, his ear, his cheek. Adamska readily turned his head, locking their lips.
* * * * *
Adamska twirled a few strands of John's hair with his finger, eyes half-closed, watching the man sleep while he couldn't.
It was night, the forest still alive with chirruping insects and thinking ocelots. One, at least.
Adamska was resting behind John, arm wrapped around him protectively, the other still twirling and playing gently with his hair. Many thoughts were going through him when he had awaken, seeing John still with him.
It was life-fulfilling, being here. Adamska sighed, burying his face into John's neck, inhaling him in.
It was tough, watching John as still as he was during his coma. He had spent so many years, just watching him, afraid he'd never wake up. Part of him now still reflected that.
It was tough back at Mother Base, watching John's double descend into something John would never be. It was tougher still watching the double interact with Quiet, who was always capturing his attention in a way Adamska had struggled for a few decades to do for the real one.
It finally worked, from the looks of it, Adamksa had hoped, watching the rise and fall of John's chest, deep in a peaceful sleep. John probably wasn't in it for the sex, Adamska thought it was best to get that out of the way. He hoped, at least, given their record that it wasn't the case. John wasn't that kind of person anyway.
Adamska got up, just a little, to see his face. John's closed good eye twitching. I wonder what he's dreaming about.
Lowering back down with a carefully placed kiss on John's cheek, Adamska returned to his thoughts.
He breathed in unison with him, maybe as a way of trying to go to sleep. He hated being left alone with a wandering mind. It did things he didn't like.
Yet still, there he was, fully capable to acknowledge that they had one more full day. After that, Adamska had to find his way back to the states. The Patriots needed him back, though Adamska sort of resented them. Not only that, Adamska did not want to be the cause of Zanzibar's failure, if anyone found out because of him.
With each stare at John's neck, his scars, his skin, it was harder and harder to accept the fact that Adamska had to leave. He just didn't want to. The last week was a rush of feelings that were finally brought to the surface. How could he suppress them now?
It will be easy, Adamska thought bitterly, as I'll probably never see John again after this.
He always thought that, every time they departed. Their line of work was so demanding - it was a threat to maintain contact with John. This had hit Adamska a long time ago.
But now the bruises of it lingered, bringing with it more pain as Adamska kept acknowledging it. Sure, at this point they had always met again. That was obvious given their position at the moment.
However, the time gaps were getting larger, frighteningly so. And then, seeing John in that coma, half-way crossed between the line of life and death... That brought the new realization to Adamska.
Just savor the moment, Adamska ordered himself, squeezing closer to John, It won't do you any good to keep ruining yourself like this with stupid paranoid thoughts..
...Even if it they are true....
* * * * *
John had awoken to soft kisses in his hair, turning lovingly to see Adamska with him. The got up together, embracing. Adamska seemed fully prepared to not let him go. It was alright, John had a free day today anyway. He made sure.
They ended up talking. Really talking. Sharing small adventures, missions, trying to shove anything either of them may have missed about each other. It led to a few laughs, a few kisses, a lot of kisses, but nothing too in depth. Just something to keep them going.
John "took him out", only figuratively given their location. They walked without shame, the tips of fingers touching only slightly so that if anyone noticed, they could tell.
John failed at doing anything fancy. He had next to no idea how to properly spend the day with someone, let alone make a proper meal for them. Adamska commented on it, only half-joking. As a result, Adamska showed him a few pointers in cooking. How did you ever get by, Adamska remarked, standing behind John to guide him in the steps. Like in the movies, Adamska had said with a cocky grin. John's reply was a grunt and roll of the eyes. Smiling.
On that, Adamska led John back to his room, ready to finally show John a Spaghetti Western or two. He picked a random one, without looking at the title. During the first run, John couldn't help but remark and criticize faulty fight scenes, particularly the guns. They argued, only playfully. Adamska took out and twirled his revolvers in tune to those on screen. John found that part hilarious.
After the movie ended, leaving them stuck in a debate about how the plot should have continued, they replayed it, both of them ready to show the other what for. Half-way through it hardly mattered, the two of them resorted to making up by making out. Tongues massaging passionately, breaking off once the credits started to roll, regarding each other with a humorous "oh!", before Adamska smiled, giving him another smooch. They both knew John was right anyway, of course he was. Adamska just wanted to see him excited.
It may have been a strange sight, two middle-aged men being so smitten with each other, but given how many difficulties the both of them had to endure, the universe could afford them one day without worry.
They ended the day together. Not as rough, without as much urgent need, but passionately. Hands holding each other, soft, meaningful movements, bodies so close, pressing slowly and gently, late into the night. Even when it was over, they didn't let go, stroking each other's hair with kitten kisses. Sleeping when they couldn't stay awake anymore.
* * * * *
The helicopter whirred dangerously over head, a looming presence to both John and Adamska. John was hugging him, not letting go.
Adamska seemed to have no intention to either, but the copter continued to chop at the air, loud and foreboding, constantly reminding them.
"TURN THAT OFF!" John shouted as loud as he could at the pilot, startling both he and Adamska. He would be damned if he couldn't say his heart-felt goodbyes without screaming them. As the whirring died down, Adamska looked back at John, curious.
"Adamska," John murmured, running fingers through his hair, "Do you really-"
"Yes John," Adamska hushed him, shaking his head, "Or everything will be ruined."
"It feels like it already is," John frowned, stroking Adamska's cheek. There was a flicker of a grin.
"Cheesy," He chuckled
"I want to apologize," John started suddenly, arguing with himself if it was the right thing to do.
"For what?"
John bit his lip, still thinking. He wanted to tell him. He might never get the chance.
"You remember, The Boss?"
Adamska backed up curiously, looking John over.
"Of course".
"I'm sorry for the way I reacted a few days ago," John sighed, giving in, "Storming off the first time."
"How does that... Relate?" Adamska squinted, unknowing.
"She's your mother."
No response.
Fearful, John tried searching his face. Adamska wasn't looking at him, only downward, a tight mouth on his face.
"I think I always knew," His words were a whisper, in his mind he traced the self-inflicted snake-like scar. For The Boss, he had been told. "Did you... See her in me?"
He hit it right on the nail.
"Yes," John admitted. He couldn't lie to him. Not now. Not that he ever did. But this moment was crucial.
"Oh."
Crestfallen, John moved closer, holding his arm.
"That's why I panicked. I knew it was wrong," John attempted to make up, "But I never loved her, she was like a mother to me."
Adamska shot him a weird look.
"Spiritual mother," John corrected himself.
"What's your point," Adamska asked, a statement. His eyes were halfway closed, thoughts blocked.
"I wanted to tell you myself," John murmured, "In case you found out without knowing what I thought."
"Which is?" Adamska almost demanded an answer.
"She loved me, as a friend and apprentice," John danced cautiously around his words, now was definitely not the time to drive him any further away.
"It was just strange between us for me because of that," John continued, "I was worried, that your loyalties lie with your cause, your country, like The Boss."
"But I know the truth," John's voice was hushed, "I just needed time to realize that. You were always loyal, to me, to everything I do. You've been with me longer, stayed with me longer, helped me against your country, The Patriots, everything."
Adamska didn't respond, still unreadable.
"That's why I don't feel for The Boss the same way I feel for you," John took a step forward, "I needed you to know that, before anyone could tell you differently, that I really, truly, lo-"
Adamska put a finger to John's lips, stopping him, still looking down.
"Please," Adamska murmured, "Don't."
"I adored you," Adamska started to speak, interrupting another attempt to talk from John, "I always have. I did everything for you, will do everything, because I love you."
John slumped his shoulders.
"So much," Adamska shook his head, "Too much."
"But," Adamska interrupted another word from John, "If I hear, what I think I'll hear... The same things... From you..."
"I don't think I could take it," He whispered, lowering his finger and arm, "I don't think I'll ever be able to leave. To let go."
That's what I want! John screamed at himself, Stay! Please!
"We'll meet again," John's voice shook a little in his hopeful statement. It didn't have to be the end.
"Maybe," Adamska shrugged lightly, "Maybe not."
"Goodbye, John," Adamska announced, signalling to the pilot. Still not looking at him.
Torn and crushed, John took another step forward.
"I love you! Adamska!" John almost shouted at him who had one foot into the copter, back turned, before the whirring blades began to drown everything out. Did it work?!
Adamska had stopped. Everything stopped. He was still not turning. He must have heard. He had to have heard. John tried to search for his face, horrified that he may never see it again.
But Adamska moved forward, kept moving forward, forward onto the copter and sitting down as it started to head up. No!
Then there he was, eyes red, gloved hand over his mouth tightly while he slouched over in his seat, shoulders shuddering. One eye stared, burning a blue hole into John's own. The afternoon sun glistened on Adamska's cheek. And then he was gone. The helicopter pulling away, turning away.
John stayed there, listening to the whirrs until they died, lost in the endless, border-less expanse of the world. Silent. Alone. Empty.
