Chapter Twenty-Five

Monterrey

Uploaded on 4/1/07

Dust was thick in the air, making the arid temperature feel even scratchier against the skin. Laredo, Texas was still half-intact, with buildings scattered along the riverbed like abandoned toys. Several of the bridges spanning the Rio Grande were destroyed in the impact of the war, but with the passing of years and slow degradation of borders, rickety replacements had been created. Boyd had done as much research as he could on the plane rides between Hawaii and the Agency, then the Agency and Laredo, but there was only so much he could read in books, especially since most of them were written prior to the bombs. So there were still surprises.

A transit station that was little more than a large parking lot with pot holes lay adjoined to the airport, and Boyd and Sin hung around the shadows of a nearby building while Boyd flipped through a decade-old Spanish travel, culture and phrasebook, trying to teach himself as much of the language as he could. Some words were similar enough to French that he could guess, but for the most part he felt rather lost. He would have liked to have more warning that he would be going to Mexico so he could have studied Spanish, but now he figured he would just have to learn in his free time while there. They had to wait around for nearly an hour before their transport arrived, but eventually it came trundling from the horizon on tires that looked threadbare and two shades darker with mud. A cloth banner covering the dirty bus read in handwritten scrawl, 'Viaje México.' Boyd looked at Sin questioningly and asked under his breath what that meant in English.

"Journey Mexico," Sin translated absently, standing in an idle slouch as he watched other passengers drag their suitcases with broken wheels across the dusty pavement to load it on the bus.

Boyd nodded and moved to slip his hands into his pockets but was met with empty air. He'd had to abandon his beloved trench coat and the skinny jeans he wore were too tight to comfortably fit his hands. Sighing softly to himself, he automatically went to pull his hair from his eyes and was mildly annoyed when he remembered he couldn't pull it behind his ears anymore. Boyd's hair now mirrored Kadin's: layered and framing his face, with the longest layer reaching barely past his chin and bangs at an angle that constantly fell into his eyes but were not long enough to be held back. He had jokingly lamented to Kadin when they met that now he would have to invest in barrettes and Kadin had seemed wholly unconcerned with the idea. Kadin had insisted that there was nothing wrong with his hairstyle and it was far more interesting than what it sounded like Boyd's had been.

Hitching his duffel bag higher on his shoulder, Boyd watched Sin finish his cigarette.

It was so strange seeing Sin now; he looked completely different. His clothing was vaguely similar -- ragged jeans with holes in them and a sleeveless shirt that showed off the new barbed wire tattoo encasing his upper arm. Despite that, his muscular build was much more visible now that he was not lost within a scrappy long-sleeved shirt and Boyd more than once excused the way he eyed his arms as saying he was just looking at the tattoo. Sin's hair was now shorter, choppy and a little spiked, and the natural jet black was randomly streaked with white. His ears were pierced now, several small hoops were randomly distributed in each ear and a lip ring curled out from the center of his lower lip, a silver color that worked very well with his olive skin tone. Boyd often found his gaze drawn to the lip ring; he had always been a little fascinated by Sin's mouth, but this brought his attention to it even more.

On the plane ride over he had realized a few times that he was staring and had to force himself to look away. If he did not stop himself in time, he started wondering what the lip ring felt like against his lips and tongue, and what the metal mixed with Sin would taste like, and that just reminded him of the way Sin tasted back in France, and from there it was a very uncomfortable few minutes while Boyd tried to change his thoughts before it became obvious that he was affected. The stupid skinny jeans did very little to hide an erection and it was one more reason he wished he was impersonating someone who had the decency to wear loose clothing and keep hair he could hide behind. When that didn't work one time he had to excuse himself to the bathroom, which was rather awkward and a bit embarrassing for someone so used to complete control, but he didn't think anyone had noticed him acting strangely.

He didn't know how he was going to make it through the majority of a year in Mexico alone with Sin in an apartment without coming onto him. Every time he actually thought about their situation, about being around someone who fascinated and attracted him more with each passing day, his mind derailed. What would Sin look like in just bathing shorts and a tan? What would his body look like with these new tattoos? What would he sound like, murmuring Spanish fluently with that bedroom voice he slipped into sometimes? All these questions slid around Boyd's mind and he found himself more than once meticulously mentally reviewing the blueprints of the Agency or his house just to focus on something that was not in any way... well... Sin.

But each time Boyd started to distract himself, Sin did something else. Whereas before he stood ramrod straight, with a glowering and alert attention to the world around him, he now slouched and peered around almost sullenly. He had taken to holding a cigarette in his fingers even when he was not smoking and Boyd was impressed with how natural he already looked with the cigarette between his lips when he did. He looked even more bored with the world, leaning against the wall and idly tapping the ash from the cigarette. In just one week he already seemed comfortable with chain smoking, and Boyd was not entirely certain what he thought of that.

Boyd was not a fan of the cloud of smoke that now lingered around Sin, but that was mostly because he had never realized before how much he enjoyed Sin's scent until it was covered by something else. He didn't even know how to describe how Sin smelled, other than cheap soap and a hint of sweat. That should not have seemed unique, but Boyd was just now realizing he really liked it. On the other hand, even if he smelled of smoke, Sin looked casually alluring while smoking, and every time his fingers shifted and brought the cigarette to his mouth, Boyd tracked the movement with his gaze and found himself once more watching Sin and his lips too much.

"Let's go," Boyd said suddenly, not waiting for Sin to entirely finish his cigarette before he strode across the crackling hot pavement toward the bus. He was frustrated that he seemed so preoccupied with Sin's appearance, but he could not help it. Although he preferred when Sin had longer hair with the red in it, he had to admit that Sin looked hot like Jason too. He suspected Sin would always be attractive, though; unlike Boyd, who felt that he looked rather stupid with his choppy red hair.

They were able to get two seats next to each other near the back; an easy feat, as there were only seventeen passengers including them and the bus could hold up to forty-five. It was not surprising that the public transit from the United States to Mexico was so underutilized; very few people lived in Laredo or Nuevo Laredo just across the border, but the few who were interested in traveling were almost certainly headed to Monterrey.

Although the ride was only about three and a half hours, it seemed to take longer. The bus had no windows, just holes where glass would have been. Instead, tarp with loops on the bottom was rolled along the ceiling, and hooks were perched beneath the windows in case rain caused the passengers to unfurl and secure it. The seats were hard-backed and uncomfortable, but no one seemed too concerned as it was a relatively short ride. The bus was rickety and jolted around a lot, making it harder not to rub against Sin's bare arm with his own. Judging by the literature, even with the clouds it would be far too hot in Monterrey to wear long-sleeved shirts, and Boyd would have been conspicuous if he tried, so he had to wear short-sleeved shirts for the first time in years. He felt vulnerable and naked even with that bit of skin showing, but he was incredibly thankful that he'd noticed Kadin wearing wide, leather bands on each of his wrists; he'd decided to follow suit and do the same.

Now, with skin he had not revealed for years other than a few minutes at a time during showers, Boyd felt entirely too aware of the heat and sweat on Sin's skin, or the way the smoke and underlying faint smell of soap passed cloyingly in front of him each time the wind gusted. Boyd let Sin have the window seat because he'd had it on the plane, but now he was regretting it. He had nothing to lean against and could not try to keep himself from running into Sin each time the bus jumped over any holes ground into Mexican Federal Highway 85 over the years. He tried to brace one hand against the seat in front of him, but it was uncomfortable and awkward, and after fifteen minutes he just gave up and tried to ignore the feel of Sin's muscles against him.

He slid his eyes closed and held his bag on his lap, tilting his head forward and trying to concentrate on something less... well, again, Sin-related. He didn't know why he was so preoccupied with him. This year was going to be terrible. Every time he saw Sin walk past he would think inappropriate thoughts and have to force himself to think of something else. His usual ability to completely close off his emotions and ignore his body's impulses was failing him miserably, and he had to blame it on the heat, Sin's proximity, and the admittedly exciting idea of spending a few months resting in a new place after so many months of working diligently.

Besides, he was looking forward to being away from so much stress and even those things that unconsciously pulled down his mood, like knowing his mother was probably watching his every move to see when he would mess up, or the lingering looks of others in the Agency and what they were thinking about him. Although the harassment had dropped considerably after Sin defended him, he was still eyed more than he wanted, and there were occasional unnecessary comments made just loud enough for him to hear. Boyd didn't like it, but it wasn't anything important enough to him to actually react to or fight back against.

A particularly rough jolt sent Boyd running into Sin so suddenly that he automatically threw one hand to the seat to catch himself before he could fall. Unfortunately, his hand landed on Sin's thigh and the feel of his muscles flexing actually made Boyd lose all sense of thought for a moment. His eyes snapped open and he stared blankly at the seat ahead of him; he was quite thankful he had the foresight to hold the bag on his lap as well. Realizing his touch had lingered, he pulled his hand away with a mumbled, "Sorry," and immediately dug into his bag for something, anything, to distract himself. He did not look over to see Sin's reaction because no matter what it was, it would just catch his attention again.

The Spanish book was the first thing he found and Boyd pulled it out gratefully to study; maybe it would help him concentrate if he considered this to be a mission and the book was his plans. Skimming through the geographical notes, he softly told Sin factoids in hopes of distracting them both from the hand incident.

"Interesting. The Rio Grande was formally called 'Río Bravo del Norte' in Mexico, which means," he drew the word out as he flipped around for a translation, "ah, the Big River of the North? ..No, I see it here. 'Great Northern River,' apparently. Though usually it is just referred to as Río Bravo."

He silently read a bit more, his eyebrows furrowing down as he concentrated. The more he read and memorized the information, the easier it was for him to think about something other than his ridiculous infatuation. Sin looked over and watched him, his own expression intent but a little hard to read. He had been sullen through the plane ride and waiting for the bus and it did not seem ready to change any time soon. That was probably good, because Boyd honestly did not know what he would do the first time those pouty lips stretched into a smile.

Narrowing his eyes in annoyance at himself, Boyd said perhaps a little more firmly than was necessary, "Millions of years ago, the Rio Grande ended at the bottom of the Rio Grande Rift in Lake Cabeza de Vaca," he still did not quite have the Spanish pronunciation down but it would come to him quickly as did everything else. "But about a million years ago the stream was diverted through natural erosion that brought it to the east and the Gulf of Mexico."

"Okay?" Sin said, giving Boyd a look as if he had no idea why he was telling him this.

Boyd shook his head slightly to himself just once, not wanting to explain, and he continued reading silently for a bit. Although the facts were helping Boyd to think of something else, it was becoming a problem because now he accidentally succeeded in turning Sin's sullen glare out the window into intent, watchful silence focused on him. As Boyd read aloud random facts about the Mexican Federal Highway 85 they were currently bouncing across, he could not help noticing movement out of the corner of his eye. He flipped to the history lesson in the hopes of finding something filled with more dates to keep his attention.

"The French intervention in Mexico, also known as the Maximilian Affair, began in 1861 and lasted until—" Boyd stumbled when he realized that Sin was idly running his tongue along the ring in his lip. "Ah..." With narrowed eyes that were now tinted brown from the contacts, but as intense as ever, Sin stared at Boyd and switched to sucking on the metal, twirling it in and out of his mouth. "Uh..." Boyd tried again.

Boyd refused to look over from his book but he could not think properly and automatically tilted his head down further. Usually that hid his expression from view, but with his shorter hair it was only partially successful, and that left him feeling a little flustered since he could not get away from Sin's gaze.

"Napolean..." Boyd tried almost helplessly, reading random words from the pages in front of him. "Second French Empire... And the, ah, Veracruz and... Cuba in Spanish control..." Noting that he just sounded like an idiot, he finished rather lamely, "Perhaps I will just read silently now..."

Sin continued to toy with his lip ring, eyes trained on Boyd's face although they were mostly unreadable. "You don't have to."

"No," Boyd said with very slight strain, "I really think I do." He stared intently at the book.

Sin shrugged and ran a hand through his hair, shifting in the seat. He was sweating and his skin was sticking to the imitation leather seats. "It's hot," He muttered and looked out the window again.

"It's fine," Boyd retorted, trying very hard not to watch him. It was true that he could see sweat glistening on his skin, and that was also a distraction. He was glad no one was sitting anywhere near them because even if Sin was probably oblivious to Boyd's sidelong looks, the others wouldn't be. Perhaps it was the realization that all attempts to distract himself were falling by the wayside, but Boyd could not help adding a little sarcastically, "Where's the Mexican in you? You should be able to handle this."

Sin looked over at Boyd through sleepy looking, heavy lidded eyes. "Cállate la boca, blancito," he drawled.¹

Hearing Sin speak Spanish did not help any; he sounded especially sexy when he was drawling those words fluidly in his low, velvety voice. "What does that mean?" he asked, half with an edge and half just curious. He still did not look over.

Full lips turned up into a small smirk and Sin raised an eyebrow at him before turning back to the window. "It's a secret."

"Va te faire foutre," Boyd muttered under his breath in mild annoyance, flipping several pages forward rapidly. "Putain de beau gosse..." ²

Sin looked at him again, eyes slightly narrowed suspiciously. He opened his mouth to speak but before the words could come out, the bus hit a decidedly large pothole and Sin slammed into him violently, nearly causing him to go flying out of the seat.

Before Boyd could actually fall, Sin grabbed his arm and pulled him against his chest to steady him. Boyd did not tense but he held himself very still as he tried not to feel too keenly the heat and strength of Sin's body. One of his hands was awkwardly resting near Sin's thigh and the other held his bag very decidedly over his lap. His eyes unconsciously falling half-closed, Boyd concentrated on the back of the seat in front of him and breathed slowly in and out before he started to pull away gently. "Thank you," he murmured as soon as he was certain his voice would remain steady.

Sin's eyes stayed on him for a long moment and his fingers brushed against the bare skin of Boyd's arm when he finally released it. "No problem."

Boyd could not be certain but it did not seem necessary for Sin's fingers to have slid across his skin in that manner. Despite the heat he shivered mildly and his cheeks flushed just the slightest tinge of pink. He was so unaccustomed to anyone touching his bare arms that his nerves were hypersensitive. It would have been enough with the firm grip, but the second Sin's touch became more casual and gentle, even as brief as it had been, it was all Boyd could think about.

He rearranged his book from where it had fallen by his stomach and, with as much concentration as he could muster, he devoted himself solely to reading about Mexico's history and the state of tourism at the time the book was written. No one else on the bus seemed to be paying them any heed, which Boyd was very thankful for; the other passengers were asleep, talking to each other, or staring out the windows quietly.

The ride to Monterrey was relatively uneventful after that point. Although a few more potholes jolted the bus, nothing was quite severe enough to warrant Sin touching Boyd's bare arms, which was good, because Boyd rather thought he may do something embarrassing if Sin kept rubbing and brushing against him. By the time they arrived at the sprawling edges of the city, Boyd's wandering thoughts were mostly under control and to an extent he was even able to ignore Sin playing with his lip ring.

The bus driver dropped them off at a public transit terminal where taxis waited on the other side. Although Sin muttered something about them taking one, Boyd insisted that it was better they get to know the city by walking and that from what he could tell on the map their apartment would not be too far away.

During the reconstruction of the city, large areas had been renamed and shifted around. The street they were searching for was called Ave Arista, but the map Boyd had was from before much of the reconstruction and the landmarks and surrounding streets were not where it said they should have been. Although the clouds remained over Monterrey as they did everywhere in the world, the sun was burning through them with enough intensity that a few beams could be seen breaking between the silvery white. By the time they had walked for an hour and a half, both of them were utterly soaked in sweat and Boyd's mood was going lower each time Sin shot him an irritated look whenever a taxi or bus passed them.

"We should understand the area," he argued for the fifth time that hour, and Sin just gave him a look that said they could understand it well enough another time when he wasn't so fucking hot.

Before Boyd could snap anything childishly, they turned a corner and 'Ave Arista' could be seen written on a sign. Relieved beyond measure, Boyd gave Sin an 'I told you so' look to which Sin replied with a 'No you fucking didn't, you were just lucky' look. Boyd turned his attention pointedly to the map and Sin casually strolled at his side, though the sullenness remained as it had since he was transformed into Jason Alvarez.

It took them awhile to find the correct address since most of the numbers and letters were hidden or lost, but after about half an hour they finally found the place. Balconies stuck out at varying heights, making the squat building look rather like an awkward cactus. A small air conditioner was running inside the main door and though it did not drastically change the temperature, it was enough that Boyd and Sin were able to breathe a little easier without the heat clinging suffocatingly to their lungs.

Boyd held his hand out silently and after a moment of staring blankly at it Sin reached into his pocket and pulled out the envelope with the key that Carhart had given him before he left. They trudged up a small enclosed staircase in the far back of the building, which they found only after opening every door in the vicinity. On the third floor, Boyd suddenly veered into a hallway and, looking at each dingy yellow door they passed, searched for the correct number. He stopped in front of 3C and fumbled with the lock before he was able to jiggle it open.

The door caught and that was their first clue that it would not be all they were hoping for. Boyd's arm muscles tensed as he pulled and then shoved with all his strength against the door. With a disgruntled squeal it jerked open and Boyd nearly fell into the room. He caught himself and stood, unconsciously airing his torso by grabbing his t-shirt at his solar plexus and jerking it away from his body a few times to let bubbles of air beneath the cotton in a manner that did not flash any skin beneath. Pushing his sweaty bangs from his eyes and pulling away the bit of hair that reached his neck, he idly wandered into the room before Sin.

It was a studio instead of an apartment; just a single room that was decently sized but still smaller than he had hoped for. There was what looked to be a small room for a bathroom in the far right corner, but that was the only area that was closed off. Two single beds rested beneath a set of dirty windows along the wall next to the bathroom, nearer the front door. The kitchen was along the far wall, a window letting in soft light over a set of counter with another long counter acting as an island divider between the kitchen and the room. To the left of the kitchen, a sliding glass door let in quite a bit of natural light; just outside they could see the rickety balcony they now had to their name. There were no lights installed in the ceiling; the apartment would clearly have to be lit from outside and by lamps they would probably have to buy as at the moment there was only one weak-looking lamp shoved in the corner. There was no other furniture except a small table and two chairs near the kitchen where they could eat. The walls were stained and off-white, the floor was dirty and cement though that wasn't entirely bad since it would probably feel cool against their feet. Thin cloth curtains hung to the sides of the windows and door; the only protection they had from the outside world. A small air conditioner sat by the windows near the beds, looking so dusty that Boyd wondered if it even worked.

Boyd surveyed the studio with a blank expression. This was definitely going to be awkward; there was absolutely no privacy except the bathroom and even then that meant one of them had the ability to shut himself away but the other was at the mercy of whenever the first decided to reappear. That meant, even if Sin went into the bathroom, Boyd would have no idea when he would suddenly come out so he could do nothing embarrassing until he was in the bathroom instead. This was going to be... interesting.

Sin pushed past Boyd and dropped his duffel bag onto the floor with a resounding thud. "This is a fucking joke," He said flatly, glaring at the room as if it should be blamed.

"That would be nice," Boyd said disappointedly. He let his own bag slip to the floor and tried to kick the door shut behind him. It did not work terribly well as it caught again. Turning, he braced his feet against the ground and shoved as hard as he could. With another groan, the door slammed shut and Boyd leaned against it for a moment, panting and letting his forehead rest against the wood. "Well," he said dryly as the heat made him feel exhausted and unathletic, "that will make it difficult to be stealthy."

"This is bullshit," Sin growled and ripped off his sweaty t-shirt, discarding it carelessly onto the dirty floor. He stomped over to the window and glared down at the air conditioner before shoving the window open. He knelt down and fiddled with the screen before he managed to open it. "I fucking hate this mission," He grumbled and began muttering to himself in Spanish as he shoved the small, decrepit looking air conditioner into the window.

"If you break that I will kill you," Boyd informed him absently as he studied the sliding glass door. "Will you stop complaining about the mission, by the way? We have eight more months and I'd prefer not to hear about how tragic your life is every other minute." He unlocked the door and tugged experimentally on the handle, pleased to see that at least the sliding door opened with no problems. The balcony, on the other hand, looked a little dubious and he stared at it before daring to step onto the rusty metal.

Sin said something particularly nasty sounding in Spanish and plugged the unit into the wall. He pressed the power button after a moment and a low hum filled the room, although no cool air came out of the vents. Sin stared at the machine in dismay and smashed his finger against the buttons violently, setting it to the coolest temperature. "This piece of shit doesn't work," He snapped at Boyd.

Boyd turned around just in time to see Sin hit one button so hard the whole unit rocked against the window. "Wow," he said in mild disbelief. Sliding the door shut behind him, he strode across the room and slapped Sin's hand away so he could lean in to peer at it with one hand held up to feel the air. "The filter probably needs to be cleaned but I don't know how to do that. We can ask someone."

Sin threw him an annoyed look and pushed him out of the way. "It's easy."

"Oh really?" Boyd drawled, irritated by Sin's attitude. "You can't diagnose the problem but you can fix it? An idiot savant of mechanics, how lucky of me to be roomed with you."

"Shut the fuck up," Sin snapped back. "Do you really want to make this worse than it already is going to be?"

"Excuse me, but I believe you've been the instigator so far," Boyd said, stepping back and crossing his arms.

He wasn't particularly happy about the accommodations either, but it would be nice if Sin did not act as though it were the worst thing in the world to be there. Was he really that angry that they had to spend time together, or that he had to live in such cramped quarters with Boyd? Ever since the mission was introduced Sin had been disgruntled and uncooperative, which was quite the far cry from the relaxed man who had stared contentedly at the books Boyd bought him back home. If Boyd were honest with himself he was looking forward to this year, even if it would probably be incredibly awkward and embarrassing at moments. Even if he wanted to ignore it, Boyd had to admit that it hurt that Sin seemed so against everything, including, perhaps especially, Boyd himself.

Sin grunted and unplugged the air conditioner, taking it out of the window and setting it on the floor. He sat down next to it and removed the grill. Dust exploded from the inside of the unit and he made a face, pulling the filter out. It was filthy and covered in a layer of dust that was several inches thick. He continued his task silently although there was obvious tension in his shoulders.

Seeing that Sin had it under control, Boyd decided to look around the rest of the studio. He discovered that the fridge was unplugged so he plugged that in, but it would be awhile before he could see if it was even working. The bathroom was tiny, but there seemed to be working water in the sink, toilet and shower, even if at first the water came out dark brown. A small, cracked mirror hung above the sink and Boyd stopped as he started to leave the room. He stared at himself in the mirror, flipping on the sole light bulb that hung from the ceiling without a cover. This was the first chance he had to actually see himself and it was very strange. Even such a simple change as dark blue contacts, a hair cut, and light red hair completely seemed to change his complexion. He frowned a little distractedly and played with his hair a bit to see what made it look less stupid.

Several long moments passed as he stood there looking in the mirror and after awhile Sin appeared in the doorway behind him. He didn't look anymore amiable than he had ten minutes ago and his brown eyes narrowed at Boyd. He watched his partner for several moments before saying anything. "It's clean. Don't know if it will make much of a difference though."

Feeling a little foolish, Boyd twisted around and braced his hands against the sink while his lower back rested against it. With Sin narrowing his eyes like that, and taking into account the attitude he'd exhibited since the briefing, Boyd couldn't help feeling like Sin was judging him again as he had before and was finding him wholly unsatisfactory. A lot of Boyd's irritation quailed at the idea that Sin may be starting to hate him again for some reason and that he would have to be around him for eight months. It made him question anything he thought could have been misconstrued as Sin being interested in him and that doubt made it a little easier to tell himself he was just being stupid and he needed to stop thinking of Sin as attractive and consider him to just be a coworker instead. He supposed he should be thankful that Sin was so stand-offish, but he just felt confused, a little annoyed, and a little hurt.

Looking to the floor before anything could make it into his expression or eyes, he brushed past Sin and headed again for the sliding door with a murmured, "I'm sure it will be fine." Maybe he would be able to use the balcony as his space to be alone; he could shut the door behind him and grant some sense of solitude. After living for years in the shadows of an empty house, he was just now realizing how alarming it was going to be, stuck in a small space with someone else constantly around.

Sin followed him halfway to the balcony but didn't come any closer. "We should probably get supplies before it gets late," He said in the same annoyed tone. "I don't know what time things close around here. Even if we were to put faith in the state of the tap water here, we have nothing to put it in and water is a necessity in this heat."

"Alright," Boyd said, his fingers just barely resting on the balcony's railing as he stared at the view. Despite the fact the balcony felt like it might detach itself from the wall with one good jump, it was very nice feeling the bit of wind ruffling his hair, even if it was stiflingly hot. And the heat would only get worse as time passed as far as he read in the books. Sighing, he watched his feet to be sure he didn't do anything stupid like trip as he walked back into the apartment and slid the door shut behind him. Locking it, he headed toward his duffel bag and shook his annoying bangs out of his eyes as he pulled the Monterrey map out. "Do you have your account information?"

"I have an ATM card and some cash," Sin replied. "But we need to convert to pesos at some point." He stood in the middle of the room with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, staring sullenly at the air conditioner. It was blowing cooler air now and although it relieved a small amount of the unbearable heat, it wasn't nearly as cold as it should have been.

"I saw a currency exchange down one of the streets," Boyd offered. He stared at the map in his hands, then stood and held it out to Sin. "I can't read most of this. You should probably navigate."

Sin took the map and studied it for a moment, eyes flicking over the streets in their vicinity. He handed it back to Boyd and nodded, picking up his discarded shirt and slipping it back on. "There was also some kind of outdoor market a few streets over, we can most likely pick up some essential items there."

Nodding, Boyd followed Sin into the hallway and yanked the door shut behind them. He made a note to himself to find some tools in the hopes they could do something about the door. They did not see or hear a single person in the entire building as they left despite the fact that Boyd guessed there were probably twenty apartments.

Navigating Monterrey was a little frustrating. They took several wrong turns, even with the map in front of them; it was just outdated enough that it was misleading although it was also just helpful enough that they could not entirely ignore it. Sin noticed an ATM during their wandering and they stopped.

"I have a money belt," Boyd told Sin as they headed toward the ATM. "So take out a lot. We can exchange it all at once and lower the withdrawal fees. I imagine they are astronomical from Mexico."

Sin nodded and pulled the card out of his pocket, slipping it into the decrepit looking machine. The machine welcomed Jason Alvarez and asked for his pin. Sin stared at the screen blankly for a moment before inputting '0666'. There was a long pause before the machine informed him that his pin was incorrect. Sin made a face at the machine and shook his head. "Oh. That was Ryan's."

Boyd quirked an eyebrow but said nothing.

Sin frowned at the machine and rubbed the back of his head before inputting another combination of numbers. Once again the machine informed him that it was incorrect. Sin glanced down at Boyd and said nothing.

Boyd stared at him blankly, though he seemed just a bit irritated. "Why are you looking at me? I don't know your information. Try something else."

The annoyed look returned to Sin's face and he glanced back at the ATM. He didn't do anything for a long moment and when he finally tried another combination of numbers, the machine informed him that not only was it incorrect, but that he was locked out of the account for an entire 24 hours. Sin stared at the machine for a long moment before slipping the card and his hands into his pocket. "Well."

"How did you forget--?" Boyd started to demand, but he cut himself off and sighed. Turning toward where he thought the currency exchange was, he stared narrow-eyed at the street, a slight frown pulling down the edges of his lips. "Nevermind. We will have to ask about that. There may be a bank that can help too." He did not, however, sound very happy about this predicament.

Sin shrugged and pulled a hand full of crumpled bills out of his pocket. He shoved it at Boyd and remained stonily silent, eyes narrowed and pissed off looking.

"Thank you," Boyd said automatically. Tilting his body toward the building to cover what he was doing, Boyd pulled at what looked like a necklace that disappeared beneath his shirt. A small cloth money holder appeared at his collar and he slipped the money into that before dropping the holder beneath his shirt again. He was quick; the money was tucked away and hidden within the space of a breath. "Let's go." He turned toward the currency exchange and started walking.

Sin mostly trailed behind him the entire way, not bothering to speak or even help navigate anymore. It wasn't entirely clear why he was in such a bad mood and Boyd didn't want to assume it was just because of the heat. Sin had wandered around in subzero weather wearing not more than a thin shirt without complaining; it was safe to say that for some reason he was using the heat as an excuse for whatever his problem was. However, Boyd was now in an equally unpleasant mood and did not care to ask. The walk to the exchange office was uneventful and when they arrived, there were several representatives who spoke English so Boyd was able to handle the transaction. They left the office with nearly 600 pesos and he had no idea if that would be a sufficient amount of money for whatever they needed. Sin grunted out directions to the outdoor market he'd spotted and they arrived there fairly easily. It was roughly the size of an entire city block and had several stands which were covered by large umbrellas or cloth. Big, industrial strength fans blew through the stalls as they wandered around and despite the fact that it was mostly hot air being blown, it was a much needed relief from the stifling heat. Boyd decided that in order to tide them over for the night or at least until he got the ATM business straightened out they would at least need food, dishes, and some cases of water. In reality he knew they would require way more than that for their extended stay but he figured he could take care of that later while Sin was job hunting. An hour passed as they looked at the various stands. Sin carried a large case of bottled water as Boyd stood and examined various sets of dishes and flatware. They were at that particular stand for several minutes and each second that passed grated on Sin's nerves. "For God's sake, just pick something," Sin finally growled at him impatiently.

"I can't just 'pick something' if we may not have money even for food after this," Boyd told him a little peevishly. "Give me a moment to decide which is the best usage of our funds."

Sin stared at him. "Just get the fucking cheapest one."

Boyd noticed Sin's incredulous expression, which seemed to imply he was an idiot. He stood at his full height and narrowed his eyes at Sin challengingly. "You think so?" He glanced at the table quickly and held up the cheapest plate. "Thirteen pesos, and according to you we should get this. But if you take the time to feel it, you will note that it is made of shit material. So when that breaks, we come back and buy another, and when that breaks, we get another and another. Five fucking plates for, what is that, 65 pesos? Whereas this plate..."

 He put the cheap one down so firmly it made an alarming bang but did not appear to break. He picked up another plate, which looked much nicer. "Is 60 pesos, but seems far more durable. So, a forward-thinking person would just get the more expensive plate, but I also have to assume that we will be unable to access the account. And then what? Is a well-made plate so fucking wonderful anymore when we can't even eat? No." He put the plate down firmly and crossed his arms, arching one eyebrow at Sin. "So. If you don't mind, I would appreciate it if you helped, or you stopped criticizing every fucking thing I do. I'm sorry I'm not perfect like you."

"Well if the piece of shit can survive you slamming it around I'm sure it will survive the violence of you scraping your fucking fork against it so get the cheaper one," Sin snapped back, voice rising in irritation. People around them looked in his direction and he snarled something at them in Spanish. They took the hint and turned away once again.

Boyd narrowed his eyes with a slightly evil expression. "Oh really?" he drawled with an edge. "Why don't we try some other tests just to be sure? I'll throw it at your head and see what happens. If you break, we know it was good material. If it breaks, then at least we're entertained."

"Yeah, I'm sure you'd love that," Sin replied sourly. "Do whatever you want, I don't care."

"Yes you do." Turning to the vendor with an annoyed air, he held up two of the cheap plates, including the one he had slammed down. The edge in his voice only sharpened and he almost seemed to be accusing the vendor of something when he spoke, trying to remember the bit he'd read in his Spanish book. "Ah... quierer? Fuck, I don't know Spanish." He shoved a handful of pesos and the plates at Sin. "You buy them."

Sin snatched the items without looking at Boyd and turned to the vendor who seemed very alarmed at the two angry men in front of him. "Dame estos." He snapped and counted out the correct amount of money before slamming it down on the table. The poor, alarmed man took the money and cast glances in Boyd's direction as he packaged the plates for them. "I speak English, you know," He said with a slight Mexican accent.

"Sorry," Boyd said curtly to the vendor, crossing his arms and glaring at him with an expression that was too irritated to be apologetic. "Thank you for the plates."

The vendor stared at him skeptically and handed the bag over silently. Sin snatched it, managing to juggle the carton of water as he did so, and turned on his heel. He stalked off in the direction of the groceries, not giving Boyd a backwards glance.

Although Boyd felt a little bad about the plate material comment, he could not summon the energy to give the man a proper apology. Following Sin, Boyd tried to calm his temper. The heat was not helping in the least, but he could not blame his emotions on that anymore than he could excuse Sin for his attitude due to the weather. Focusing on things like proper expenditure of their limited money was what had helped him before, because it was a case of numbers and calculations and had nothing to do with insubstantial and confusing emotions. But with Sin attacking even that, he was grasping at something to think about that did not just annoy him further.

It also did not help that there was food on the tables he had never seen in his life, including one large, misshapen bright green thing that looked a little alarming to him. He had to jog to catch up to Sin but even when he stepped to his side, he said nothing. Instead, he looked at the fruits and vegetables surrounding them and tried to remember if he read about any of them in his book. Even if he had, there were no pictures and he had no idea how to pronounce half the names. Sighing, he looked over at Sin. "What are we getting?"

Sin shrugged, staring sullenly at the tables. "I don't eat any of this."

"Well, I don't know what any of it is." Boyd noticed a banana as they passed and shrugged in a rolling sort of way that mimicked Kadin's movements. "Well. Most of them."

"Just because I'm a spic doesn't mean I know what these people eat," Sin replied flatly.

"Thank you for putting such rude words in my mouth," Boyd said with annoyed sarcasm. "I appreciate that you thought I meant that."

"Why should I think you mean anything positive when it comes to me?" He replied and glared at the vegetables being sold.

"What the hell does that mean?" Boyd demanded as he distractedly grabbed random vegetables and put them in a pile.

"It was a rather straight forward statement."

"Yes, Jason," Boyd said with dripping sarcasm, and he was so irritated he only barely remembered to use the undercover name. That alone told him just how agitated he was. "I'm your biggest enemy."

Sin gave him a look that could have frozen over the pavement burning beneath their feet. "Sometimes I think you are."

Boyd went absolutely still, one hand hovering above a dark green vegetable. It was ridiculous how much having Sin angry with him could bother him. His expression went completely neutral and he forced himself to resume what he was doing. Focusing all his attention on simple details like how many vegetables were in front of him and how many pesos it would cost, he was able to ignore the fact that his chest strangely ached from the words, as if Sin had managed to squeeze his heart and wrench it around.

Looking up at the vendor, he thought about every little nuance he had seen in Kadin Reed and slowly integrated them into his mannerisms. It was a measure of his disquiet that he had forgotten to impersonate Kadin on this outing, but he could not suddenly be a perfect Kadin Reed because it would be too abrupt and obvious that he was acting.

Boyd said nothing and finished shopping quickly, just grabbing whatever he saw that looked relatively good but was cheap. He hoped they would be able to do something with it all because he was damned if he could think better about any of it at the moment. A very quick stop at a few other tables got them a few more essentials they needed, including sheets and pillows for their beds. It was all bought rather quickly and cheaply, and this time Boyd did not even bother trying to find the best quality for the best price.

They did not really speak as Boyd strode back toward the apartment and Sin moodily followed in his wake. Their icy silence continued all the way to the studio, where Boyd slammed himself against the door more violently than even the stickiness required. The second they were both inside and the door was shoved closed behind them, Boyd strode to the kitchen and dropped the bags unceremoniously on the table. He turned around suddenly and, with all the irritation and hurt he had been ignoring coming to the forefront in the form of anger, he demanded, "What the hell is your problem?"

Sin dropped the carton and the bag onto the floor and glared at Boyd. "You are obviously my problem," He retorted.

Boyd stared at him, stunned to have heard the words actually coming from his mouth. Even though he thought it was the case, knowing for certain that it was not the heat or anything else really, truly hurt. But it also angered him and it was that indignation that took over. "What the hell?" he blurted. "What the fuck have I done to deserve that?"

Sin's hands balled into fists and his face twisted into an angry scowl. "What the fuck haven't you done to deserve it?" He shouted at Boyd suddenly. "Everything you do or fucking say makes me feel like a goddamn idiot. The fact that your opinion makes me feel anything in the first place makes me fucking sick! I was perfectly fine before you came along and fucked my head up with your confusing, contradictory bullshit!"

Once again, the pain just twisted into anger, and Boyd realized it would probably be the same for everything Sin said if it continued in this manner. "I make you sick, that's fucking nice," he said loudly. "And if you're fucked in the goddamn head it's not my fault! Take a little fucking credit for your own shit, because if either of us is contradictory, it's you."

"Oh really?" Sin glared at him, eyes narrowing into slits as he began to practically tremble with anger. It was the first time he'd ever shown fury in this manner, the first time he'd shouted in such an out of control way. "Who's the fucking one who tries to pretend to be kind, who tries to act like I'm actually a fucking human being and then at the drop of a fucking dime, shows what he really feels and reminds me that I'm just some insane killer?" He looked confused at the fact that the words were coming out of his mouth and it was obvious that his anger was coming from a place that had nothing to do with their mission, the heat or anything that had happened recently. He looked even more annoyed that he was actually expressing his thoughts for the first time ever, but it didn't stop the onslaught. "Just pick an attitude and stick with it because I'm tired of your bullshit games."

"What?" Boyd demanded incredulously. "When did I ever do that? I don't fucking play games!" Although Boyd was surprised on some level to see Sin actually shout and tremble with anger, he could not stop to think about it with such words hanging in the air. He was nearly to the point of trembling himself and he was almost yelling, something he so rarely did. His expression was twisted with anger and his body felt heated and alive with the indignant hurt practically pumping through his veins.

"Are you stupid?" Sin demanded, voice rising once again. "You put on this nice act with me, tell me how everyone is so wrong for thinking they can do what they want--" He began walking towards Boyd, expression dangerous. "--go on and on about how I'm just as human as anyone else--" He prodded Boyd roughly in the shoulder, causing him to stumble backwards a bit. "And then you make it very clear that you think the same way all of them do. It's all good--" He shoved Boyd again. "When I'm at a fucking distance--" And again. "But you freak out when I get too close."

"Stop it," Boyd snapped and pushed Sin away from him angrily. "No I don't. Of course I'll be annoyed if you're shoving me but I do not act like that!"

Sin gave him a scathing look. "All I did was put my hand on your cheek and you acted like I was trying to fucking kill you."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Boyd asked in frustrated bewilderment.

"Do you know what I did for you?" Sin seethed, fists white knuckled. "I fucking tore him apart, made sure he had a slow agonizing death for what he did to you and your friend. I thought that's what you wanted-- I thought it was, that you--" He broke off abruptly and looked away, glaring at the wall. "And then that's how you acted."

Boyd stared at Sin in disbelief, his heart rate climbing at the very thought of anything related to Jared or Lou. "Jesus Christ," he said, but this time it was softer and mostly to himself. As he spoke, his voice rose again, tinged with an emotion that was hard to interpret even if Boyd knew it started with pain. "God-- Jared? This is about--? At that time—-do you even--"

Boyd shook his head once, frustrated. "Put it in some context, Sin. I'm sorry if I offended you, if I pulled away or whatever the hell I did. But you— just, completely out of nowhere, without giving me any chance to prepare-- You fucking ripped me apart the second I saw that ring! I was fucked up, I couldn't think. Do you even know what I went through with all that, what having it suddenly thrown in my face brought up again?" There was nothing accusatory in his words; it was closer to an exasperated, rhetorical question.

"Well I'm sorry I fucking bothered," Sin said coldly. "You're the only person who has ever gone through anything remotely traumatizing, aren't you Boyd? It doesn't matter what anyone else fucking thinks or feels as long as you can tell yourself that I don't feel anything at all. You get all caught up in your little world of pain and don't even take anyone else into consideration. It's all about you and what you went through and all of your fucking problems. So you can get away with being an asshole and not even saying thank you and justifying your bullshit behavior by saying that I shouldn't have gotten in your business in the first place. Well don't fucking worry, I'm sorry I bothered to show interest in your life."

"I didn't say to stay out of my business! When the fuck--? Stop assuming all this shit! I was so grateful for what you did I didn't know how to fucking express it, alright?" Boyd was breathing a little heavily, his jaw clenched. "You did something for me I never thought would be done! How the hell does 'thank you' cover such a deep fucking emotion? I'm sorry I'm apparently too stupid to be able to tell you that, but you could also fucking ask. And fuck you, I've never said this is only about me -- I know I'm not the only one who's fucked up."

"Ask?" Sin stared at him incredulously. "What should I have fucking asked, Boyd? 'By the way did you forget that I murdered a defenseless junky to avenge you and your boyfriend'?" Sin scoffed at him and shook his head. "Yeah, so sorry that stunning idea didn't spring to mind."

Boyd lifted his lip in a derisive sneer that made it into his voice. "No, about why I pulled away, if it bothered you so much. Would you just listen to me already and stop being an asshole focused on all this bullshit? I said thank you and I'm sorry and I mean it!"

"It seemed pretty clear why you pulled away," Sin retorted. "And you want to talk about being an asshole? How about being a condescending little fuck to me that whole time we were in France while you climbed all over that fucking fag, sucking up to him while he treated me like an idiot? Yeah, it was so obvious that you cared deeply. So deeply that you treat me like a fucking leper and let some moron you just met feel you up. It's pretty obvious why you pulled away, especially considering your little back up remote. What's the matter? Felt you had to get me under control again?"

Boyd glared at Sin incredulously, but it quickly turned to cruel anger. "It always comes back to Thierry for you, doesn't it? Every fucking time. You know what? Yes, I fucked him, yes, I'd just met him, yes, he was being a goddamn asshole to you, and no, I wasn't stopping him. But that was for the fucking mission! If he was anyone else, if we hadn't been told how incredibly important it was, I wouldn't have stood for it. When have I ever ignored anyone being an asshole to you in my presence without at least being sarcastic to them? I did for him because I had to."

"You just fucking ignored mostly everything I just said," Sin said flatly. Did Boyd seriously think that he was so angry just because of that? Did he forget how belittling he was that night? How he'd sat there and made a fool of him, talking his bullshit in French and thinking Sin was too stupid to pick up on it? He seemed to have it in his head that he had the right to talk down to Sin whenever he wanted and that it was perfectly fine and that was exactly what had begun pissing Sin off in the first place today. "Are you that hung up on the idea of me giving a shit about who you let fuck you?"

"What the hell am I supposed to think?" Boyd demanded. "You get pissed I pull away from you but you don't care who I fuck? What the hell kind of backwards thinking is that? If you're really just angry about the remote, it's not like I wanted to have it. You had to be all fucking dramatic and tell Carhart all that shit about berserking in France so of course I got in trouble for not having the stupid thing in the first place. I only brought it because I was told to but I told you I'd never intended to use it! What the hell kind of two-faced bastard do you think I am?"

"You're calling me dramatic?" Sin asked coldly. "Are you fucking joking? And I don't know what kind of ego trip you're on at the moment but the reason I'm making a comparison between the way you acted towards me and the way you acted towards that idiot has to do with trust. I've gone a long fucking time not giving a shit about anybody and then for some idiotic slip of my mental process, I attempt to treat you like something resembling a partner and then you act like a fucking self-absorbed idiot who is too worried about his own little world of darkness to even think about how it affects anyone else. What kind of two-faced bastard do I think you are? I think you're the kind of two-faced bastard who gives me the cold shoulder after I go out of my way to kill the guy who butchered your little playmate and then talks about what an idiot I am in French while you're sitting across the fucking table and treats me like a mentally deficient child time and time again, in France and on this mission as well."

Boyd glared coldly. "Oh, it's about trust now? Real fucking nice. You want to know why I jerked away when you reached for me? Because just about every fucking time you'd ever touched me before, you were trying to kill or hurt me. You nearly ripped my arm from its socket, threw me across the room, almost snapped my neck, almost choked me to death, almost ripped my throat out with your teeth—You'd thrown me around and normally I didn't care, but I was fucked up that time and seeing you reach for me scared the shit out of me. I didn't know what you wanted to do to me, how you were going to hurt me. I was fucked up enough that it mattered for some stupid reason."

Sin narrowed his eyes, shaking his head as he stared at Boyd with an unreadable look on his face. "You knew I was sorry for that night when you woke me up," He said quietly. "I told you-- I didn't mean to hurt you. I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted to do anything to you."

"Never wanted to do anything?" Boyd echoed cruelly. "So you wouldn't stop in France because you didn't want to hurt me and didn't want to do anything? You held me to the floor and ripped my fucking shirt open, scared me enough that I thought you were going to rape me, and you're telling me it's about fucking trust and the fact you said sorry that one time means anything else is okay? Tell me what I should have done according to you. Not react, not ever recoil if something startles me because I might hurt your fucking feelings? I'm sorry if apparently being attacked sometimes makes me be on guard. Next time I'll be certain to let you do whatever the fuck you want to me, just because I think you're human. But I let you get away with so much more shit than anyone else, so don't patronize me and pretend by pushing you away twice I suddenly don't think you're human, that I breached some sacred fucking trust. Don't try to push your part of the blame off and pretend you've done nothing wrong. You didn't have to fucking tell everyone about Thierry, either, but you did. You didn't have to do a lot of the shit you did, but I let it go anyway. So shut the fuck up if you think I'm the only one who could be misconstrued as feeling sorry for himself and wrapped up in his own fucking world."

Sin's eyes dropped for a moment and he stared at the floor; for a long moment it seemed almost as though he would not respond but then he looked up through his unruly hair with an angry and almost hurt expression on his face. "I know I've fucked up a lot. I know I've fucking lost control and gone crazy and I'm sorry for it, but you always knew it was a possibility when you got yourself into this assignment and I've never pretended to be anything else but what I am with you, I've never pretended that I'm not as fucking off balance as they say I am. But to say that night in France you fucking fought the whole time while I just did what I wanted and you were so terrified the whole time? You thought I was going to rape you?" His mouth lifted into a humorless smile. "That's a fucking joke. You don't know the meaning of the word."

"You're right," Boyd said coldly, his eyes narrowed and arms crossed. "I don't. Maybe next time you can show me."

"Maybe I should have left that to Harry," Sin replied and stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head and turning around. "Then you can have a real reason for playing the victim all the time. Go to hell," He muttered and jerked the door open, leaving the studio quickly. This time, the door was slammed closed with such force that it didn't stick.

Boyd stared at the door for long after Sin left, feeling jittery and angry and upset. He was overwhelmed by what had just happened, everything that was said, and couldn't filter through it at first. One line slowly came to the forefront through his jumbled thoughts. 'You don't know the meaning of the word,' and suddenly Boyd remembered Ryan saying he thought Sin had been sexually abused.

"Fuck," he hissed, his arms unconsciously crossing over his stomach. What the hell was wrong with them? They'd been getting along so well and then this happened. Couldn't they go one day without an argument or pissing each other off? Boyd hadn't intended for it to come to that sort of argument or to say those things even if there was truth in it. Maybe it would be a disaster that they would be here together for so long; Sin's opinion still mattered to him and if they were going to act like this for nearly a year in such a small space he didn't think he could handle it.

What he needed right then was a place to go hide in silence and darkness until he could think properly again. But there was no place he could think of immediately that would fulfill such a desire and running around in a city primarily filled with a language he did not speak was not appealing. Instead, he carefully stepped out onto the creaking balcony, closing the door behind him. He sat down, wrapping his arms around his knees, and stared pensively at the backstreet behind the building. It was hot enough that within minutes his shirt was sticking to his torso and he was highly aware of even the little bit of hair falling onto the back of his neck.

He sighed heavily and dropped his forehead onto his arms, sliding his eyes closed. He didn't even know what he felt. Although in general there were several parts of the argument that angered or upset him, it mostly came down to the fact that Sin apparently thought he was a completely deceitful, self-absorbed asshole.

For a long time he sat in that same position, going over the argument repeatedly out of some bizarre mixture of masochism, regret, and guilt. It was still shocking that Sin had such an outburst, that he'd been shaking with anger and actually shouting, and especially that he said anything about what he felt. But the uniqueness actually made it worse; the fact that Sin was so disgusted with Boyd that he burst into out of character yelling was disquieting. Although Boyd was far more stable than he had been in February, it still hurt to think that Sin could think so little of him. Did he honestly think that Boyd had been lying all along? That he would tell Sin he was human but believe something else? Even if they weren't exactly friends in the traditional sense, Boyd still felt he had been around Sin long enough for them each to get a grasp on the other's personality. It hurt that Sin would think he was like that, as much as it had hurt that his mother had thought he'd been whoring himself as Sin's reward. There was a lot he knew he was capable of but there were some things he just didn't do to people. Why the hell did they both think he was such a terrible person? Was it because he actually was and he just kept denying it, even to himself?

Only Ryan seemed to like Boyd still. But Ryan was also the first to admit that even if he was Sin's biggest fan, Sin used to be frightening and basically a psychopathic killer. And Ryan liked him even then. So did it really say much that Ryan thought anything of Boyd? It certainly didn't put much weight to the theory that Boyd was worth the air he breathed. It wasn't that having Sin angry with him could destroy his sense of balance, but it did make him doubt himself again and he hated that.

A few hours passed in the dragging heat before there was any sign of Sin again. The main apartment door made enough of a racket when it was finally opened that Boyd was immediately alerted to Sin's return. There was an annoyed mutter and then the door was kicked closed again. Silence lasted for another long moment, followed by odd crinkling, the sound of a bag being dragged across the floor, and the creaking of bed springs. It wasn't immediately obvious what Sin was doing but he wasn't making any moves to come towards the balcony where Boyd sat.

Boyd did not move or acknowledge his return for a few minutes. The heat had drained him of most of the energy he'd even had left and now he just didn't want to have to interact with anyone, especially the person who put him in this mood in the first place. But the longer time passed, the more awkward it seemed to him it would be when he finally walked into the room. He didn't know what to expect when he would go in there; Sin obviously felt he was a betraying, lying bastard, so did that mean they would be back to fake smirks and sarcasm? Months in this heat, surrounded by another language and dealing with Sin's old, sarcastic act certainly did not appeal to him but he also knew it probably wouldn't be fun on Sin's side either.

Releasing his breath slowly, Boyd decided that he couldn't stay out there forever and it was better to go in when Sin was busy. Besides, if he just became calm and quiet like he used to be then it would be fine. They hadn't had an argument like this before but judging by how they dealt with anything controversial in the past between them, he assumed it would just be ignored anyway.

Stretching once he stood, Boyd slipped into the apartment and shut the door behind him. He didn't look at Sin or speak to him; instead, he let his gaze wander around the kitchen as he tried to think about concrete, distracting things such as what else he may need to buy tomorrow. He headed toward the bathroom with the intent to possibly take a shower or at least be somewhere quiet and out of view for a few more minutes.

Sin was sitting on one of the twin beds with one of his duffel bags on the floor beside it and a variety of weapons lying around his bed. It wasn't exactly an arsenal; he'd had to bring only a few to avoid conspicuous cases and bags. But he did have his favorite .44 Ruger, two .45 Brownings, a couple of knives, some explosives and an M24A2 SWS which he had just finished assembling for no apparent reason other than possible boredom.

Sin aimed the sniper rifle at Boyd and looked through the scope, tracking Boyd's movements across the room with it. "Hey, you."

Glancing at him sidelong, Boyd was mildly surprised that Sin actually acknowledged him. However, he was not alarmed in the least at having a gun aimed at him; he didn't expect Sin to pull the trigger, but if he wanted to, Boyd didn't particularly care. He tilted his head in general acknowledgment but didn't bother saying hi back as he continued toward the bathroom. He didn't have the energy to play Sin's games and regardless of his sincerity Sin would just think he was using him for some aim or another. He was better off just staying quiet so things couldn't keep getting more complicated.

Before he could disappear into the bathroom, Sin held up a plastic bag. "Would you like a gummy bear?"

The question actually made Boyd stop walking. He stared at the bathroom door for a moment, making sure he had heard Sin correctly as he ran the words over again in his mind, then looked over at him emotionlessly. Feeling a little baffled that Sin kept talking to him, he asked blankly, "They have those here?"

Sin nodded, still peering at him through the rifle's scope. "And they are better."

Shifting his attention from Sin to neutrally studying the rifle, he lifted one shoulder in the barest of shrugs. He almost felt too tired to deal with Sin, but he didn't want to ignore him now that Sin was going out of his way to talk to him. If Boyd snubbed him it would probably just cause more drama. He sighed softly as he thought about how long and exhausting this next year would be. Dragging his gaze away, Boyd shook his head slightly. "I'm not hungry."

Sin finally put the rifle down and stared at Boyd with an unreadable expression on his face. "Are you declining the peace offering?"

Boyd looked over at him, his dyed red hair half-falling into his eyes. He was silent a moment, studying Sin, before suspicion and confusion mixed in his expression. "Peace offering? Why?"

Sin shrugged, face still largely expressionless even as he dangled the bag between two long fingers. "Because our lives will be a lot easier if peace is made sooner than later."

"That may be true, but..." Boyd stared at the bag, his arms unconsciously crossing his stomach. After a moment, he looked back up into Sin's eyes, his own eyes narrowed in confusion and mild distrust. He couldn't tell if this was another game of Sin's, though he had no idea why it would be. But he definitely hadn't been expecting a truce from Sin so he didn't know what to think. Even so, he walked a little closer to the beds. "Are we just pretending we didn't say any of that? You made it seem like you regretted even meeting me and I certainly said nothing better, but now I'm being offered gummy bears. Forgive me if I feel I missed something."

Sin glared at Boyd and dropped the bag onto the bed. "If I really meant half of the things I said about you, I wouldn't be talking to you right now. I wouldn't care about making peace. I'd ignore you for the rest of this assignment and only speak to you when it's necessary. Would you prefer that? Because honestly, I can do that but I would prefer not to have to."

Boyd stared at him for a long moment, maybe waiting for Sin to somehow show he hadn't meant that but when he only received the same simple glare in return, he sighed and looked away. Although he also didn't want that scenario, he couldn't ignore the fact that Sin seemed to continually distrust him. After Sin had been rescued from the box, after everything that had happened since, Sin always seemed to think Boyd was lying; there really was nothing Boyd could think to do to prove himself that he hadn't already tried. Even if he didn't want to be ignored, he also didn't want to be distrusted all summer. He didn't know which he liked least -- staying quiet and aloof, or having conversations that would always be second-guessed.

"I don't know what to do around you," he said finally, softly. "Even if you claim you didn't mean it, you probably did. I don't know how to be sincere anymore when you'll just doubt me again anyway." He studied the A/C unit as an almost absent distraction. "Maybe I am insincere and don't know it. It's easier if I just don't..." Any number of words could end that sentence, ranging from 'talk' to 'care,' but he could not decide on one so he just trailed off.

There was a brief silence and after a long moment, Sin grabbed his arm and pulled him closer to the bed, which startled Boyd enough to look over at him. Sin stared at him from under unruly bangs that only partially hid his frustration. "I don't want it to be like this again," He admitted, eyes focused intently on Boyd. Sin shook his head and tightened his grip on Boyd's arm. "I don't know how to explain anything. You just have to-- I don't know how-- it's fucking hard for me. I don't know the right things to say ever and every time I try to explain it comes out wrong." Unnaturally dark brown eyes slid away for a moment and narrowed slightly, focusing intently on the wall as he spoke in a slightly rigid tone which seemed to underscore his discomfort with discussing his feelings. "I was angry," He said stiffly. "I was frustrated and angry because I feel like an idiot in this stupid disguise and you have the ability to make me feel like an incapable child so it only made it worse." He paused for a moment before looking at Boyd again. "I didn't intend to mock you in the manner I did nor did I intend to pick a fight with you."

Boyd found his gaze sliding down to Sin's hand on his bare arm. A strange feeling moved through him; he was unaccustomed to being touched at all, let alone in a gentle manner. Since Lou's death, the only people who had gotten that close and touched him in a way that was not involved with pain, had been Ryan, the clinical hands of the medic and Thierry, who he didn't think really counted. With Sin... it was always complicated, somehow, and often ended with miscommunication. But what he did know was that touching Sin had been a big deal for him; being allowed for the first time to run his fingers through his hair and along his palm after that week in the box had been important to him.

Maybe Sin had been right; maybe he was getting too lost in his own thoughts to even think of considering Sin's side. He tried to imagine what it would have been like if he had reached for Sin during that week, after all that Boyd had been through and done to get him out, and if Sin had jerked away. The thought bothered him and it made him think of what Sin said, that he'd murdered Jared for him and Boyd had acted like he was afraid of him.

When he looked back up into Sin's eyes, his gaze was almost somber. "When you..." he started quietly, then stopped himself in mild frustration and tried again. "I'm not very good at this either. I always complicate things and... it really bothers me to disappoint others so I probably overreact. But you... Do you really think I'd tell you one thing but think another? With Thierry... We weren't even talking about you most of the time. I wasn't mocking you in French, I just said some bullshit once and the rest was stupid conversation. I wouldn't do that to you..."

Sin was silent for a long moment but after awhile he just shook his head. "The problem is that you assume I should know these things about you. You assume I should automatically know what you are thinking--what you would really do. What you really mean. What you would never do to me. You've been kinder to me than anyone else has but at the same time, considering the way most people have treated me, I expect very little from anyone. I-- I do trust you though. I do now. I didn't for a long time but now things... are different. Things are better. I do not feel so paranoid around you, I don't feel like I need to be on guard anymore." He stopped talking for a long stretch of time and dropped his eyes, examining the bag of gummy bears moodily although he tightened his grip on Boyd. "I'm sorry for what I said about Jared and Harry. Even if you decided that you hate me someday, I'll never regret doing what I did."

Boyd considered that and slowly sat down next to Sin. It meant a lot to him that Sin would say that he trusted him and he felt a strange sense of relieved warmth at the thought. But... He stared blankly at the sheet for a long moment then looked over at Sin. It was true that there was no real reason for Sin to know what Boyd would and wouldn't do and for some reason, hearing Sin say that made things he hadn't ever thought about admitting move to the top of his thoughts. He couldn't be very angry with Sin about anything they'd argued about because he'd also said a lot of things that Sin didn't seem to be holding against him. It was entirely possible that after months of misunderstandings and tension, they'd just needed to get that left over anger and frustration out. There was a breath of silence before he admitted calmly, "I wanted him to kill me. Harry. Jared. I suppose both of them, but Harry especially. I hoped to anger him enough to lose control. It would have been nice if it was quick, but... if it wasn't, that would have been fine too."

Sin's eyes narrowed slightly and his full lips turned down into a disapproving frown. "Why?"

"I had a bad day," he said simply, not seeming affected by the seriousness of the topic. "And sometimes I..." He waited a moment for the proper words to form but they wouldn't so he just shook his head to himself and gave up on that sentence. "I've already failed at suicide twice so I am clearly incapable of succeeding. Though," he added mildly, looking back up at Sin, "they do say third time's a charm."

"You've already had four tries. It's obviously not meant to be." Sin's eyes remained narrowed and he almost looked angry as he gazed steadily at Boyd.

"Four?" Boyd asked him curiously. It was strange enough that Sin didn't seem surprised about his admission that he'd attempted suicide twice, but he had no idea where 'four' came from. It took him a moment, but once he realized that Sin must be referring to Harry and the mission when he killed Alexis as indirect attempts, he became confused again. If those two were being counted, why would Sin not have just assumed he was referring to those incidences instead of two previous ones? Did Sin already know about the times after Lou's death, or was he just assuming Boyd was referring to something other than the two times he knew of?

Narrowing his eyes, Boyd looked more confused than suspicious. "What do you know about Lou or Jared? Did you already know I tried to kill myself after his death?"

Sin continued to regard Boyd with the same mildly displeased expression. "Yes."

Drawing his eyebrows down thoughtfully, Boyd searched Sin's face. He was not particularly upset that such a secret was already known; more than anything, he wanted to know what Sin knew. Boyd always hid the telltale signs and in general he did not want anyone to know anything so private about his life. But this was Sin. He didn't mind if Sin knew, because... Well. Even after all they had been through, he still ultimately trusted Sin but now he was just baffled as to what information Sin had managed to dig up on him.

"You called him my boyfriend, too," Boyd said slowly, thinking aloud. "Why would you do that?" His eyes narrowed and more pieces of information fell into place. "And you knew about him. I've never talked to you about Lou... that's why I was so surprised when you came back with his ring. How... How did you know about that, either? Not even Ryan knows about the ring, not even my mother -- well, she could have seen it on him but I doubt she would have understood or remembered. No one knew, but somehow you knew to give it to me..." He stared at him, partially impressed that Sin, who he was just now realizing he'd never truly had a serious conversation with, somehow knew all of this.

Sin shrugged and looked away finally. "I did research."

"Research." Boyd stared at him. "But... The Krauszer family crest? I didn't... Was that inventoried in an article somewhere as something he had on him? How would you even know from that? And why would you call him my boyfriend? That wouldn't be written down anywhere. Were you being sarcastic?" Despite all his questions, he was not accusatory at all, just bewildered. "Or maybe you talked to Ryan? You did go to his apartment... I don't even know what he told you."

Sin sighed and leaned back finally, resting the palms of his hands flat against the bed behind him with the bag of gummy bears sitting innocuously on his lap. Compared to the anger that had radiated from him mere hours ago, he was surprisingly calm. "No, Ryan didn't tell me although it's interesting that you apparently told him."

Boyd stared at Sin again, this time because there was something off about this. He tried to remember the way it had all happened and, after a pause while he thought, frowned distractedly. "Wait. No, that's not right. I only told him because you came to me with the ring... He kept asking why we were acting so strangely when we had just been getting along. I didn't even explain anything properly until after France." He tilted his head slightly. Every bit of information he put together was only confusing him more. "What the he-- How...? You know everything about me." He said it softly, almost questioningly. "You know all this but I know almost nothing about you..."

Although the startling pale green was covered by a subtle brown, Sin's eyes were as intense as ever when they flicked over to Boyd again. His eyebrows drew together slightly and then his gaze slid away. "I'm not very interesting."

"I'm not either," Boyd said, bewildered. Although he was now intensely curious about Sin, about the things he could not read about or see on the flash drive that Ryan had lent him, he also knew enough of Sin's past to be hesitant to push him. If Sin had tried to pry into Boyd's past by asking him, he didn't think he would have told him much; he could only assume Sin would also be quiet if he tried asking direct questions.

He shook his head slightly, as if to banish his thoughts. If Sin knew about his suicide attempts, then he must... "You know about my scars." This time Boyd did sound a little accusatory, but he did not seem angry. It was more that he was surprised Sin did not bring it up before. "What do you know about... Why would you even...?" He frowned, at a loss. "I can't believe you did enough research to know even that much. Do you know how hard my mother worked to hide the fact that I attempted suicide? She eventually tried to pass both times off as an attack, even if it doesn't make sense."

Sin sat up and began fiddling with his weapons again, disassembling the sniper rifle absently but at an almost unbelievable speed. "I dunno. I guess. I didn't go through all the details and I don't know what scars you're talking about."

"Oh." Boyd blinked, even more confused, then pulled back and looked down at the bed in sudden avoidance. He'd just told Sin he had scars. He was very secretive of the fact they even existed, he never looked at them himself, he tried to ignore them for long periods of time. All of that trouble and he just blurted it out to Sin for no reason. Sin knew so much else that he'd just assumed... But then again, he'd also blurted out the fact he attempted suicide twice. Even if it ended up that Sin was already aware, Boyd hadn't realized at the time that he knew, nor did he think of the Alexis or Harry incidences as attempts to kill himself. Instead, he just thought of them as times he had not cared if he died and had hoped someone would end his life for him. It was not the same as self-inflicted wounds, so to him it was not really suicide.

What the hell was he doing, saying all this so casually? They'd never really talked about themselves and yet the first time they did he sat there saying all these embarrassing things. Nervously pulling some hair behind his ear that fell forward anyway because of Reed's dumb haircut, Boyd held one arm protectively against his stomach and felt very stupid. "Well."

Sin closed the case to the M24A2 and said almost conversationally, "I tried to commit suicide when I was ten." He picked up his bag of candy and held it out to Boyd again. "Gummy bear?"

Boyd blinked, completely not expecting that. He looked up at Sin in surprise and somehow the combination of the confession in a matter of fact tone followed by the offer of candy was so bizarre that it startled him into brief half-laughter. There was something so disarming about Sin, so relieving; at least, that was the case when they got along. When they did not, that bit of mystery of Sin's just set Boyd off-balance and made it incredibly difficult to understand him. Leaning forward, Boyd dug into the bag with one hand, a helpless half-smile pulling at one side of his lips as he shook his head to himself. "Yes, I'll have some of your stupid gummy bears," he said lightly. Grabbing a small handful, he popped one in his mouth and watched Sin idly as he chewed, nodding after a contemplative pause. "You're right. They are superior."

Sin nodded wisely and leaned against the wall, a pleased look on his face. "I am always right when it comes to candy." He stretched his legs out and crossed his arms over his chest. "Tomorrow I will begin searching for employment," He said randomly. "I hope you enjoy your free time while I am out wandering the streets."

For some reason, having Sin joking with him again made it possible to stop focusing so much on their argument. Maybe it was because he didn't want to think about it, or maybe it just didn't matter as much when they were getting along. "Oh, don't worry," Boyd said with a smug little smirk. "I fully intend to waste as much time as possible this entire mission while I watch you work your ass off. I consider it to be retribution for all those times I spent days deciding on a plan while you sat around being sarcastic."

Sin made a face and thew a gummy bear at Boyd before sliding further down the wall, resting his head on one of the new pillows. "Find somewhere to stash my weapons. And I bought you a present, by the way."

Swiping the gummy bear off the bed, Boyd threw it back at Sin's face. "Oh?" he said, amused. "A present? What was it, the gummy bear in the face?"

Sin popped the candy into his mouth and jerked his chin towards the counter. "No."

Following the gesture, Boyd looked distractedly over to the kitchen and noticed that there was an extra bag he had not brought back earlier. He glanced at Sin questioningly but said nothing as he slid off the bed and padded across the room. Digging into the bag, he saw a small plug-in water heater. He was just about to ask what that was for when he saw a box next to it. Pulling it out, he tilted it around until he saw it was jasmine tea. He froze, eyes wide. Looking down at the water heater quickly, he realized he would easily be able to make tea any time he wanted; he hadn't bought a tea pot yet for himself so he hadn't been able to make any.

"You..." he said softly, shocked. He opened the box and pulled out a tea bag, the scent of jasmine drifting around him and he closed his eyes briefly with a smile. Turning around, he held the box to his chest almost protectively and stared at Sin in amazement. "After all those terrible things I said, you still did something so kind for me...?"

"I wasn't exactly Prince Charming," Sin muttered, avoiding Boyd's eyes and looking mildly bashful.

Although the first thing Boyd wanted to say was that he hadn't exactly run out and gotten Sin a gift either, he didn't want to start any sort of bickering at all, even if it was joking. So he just hugged the tea to himself and smiled at Sin. "Thank you," he said, touched.

Although he didn't look up and instead began fiddling with his weapons again, there was no hiding the pleased smile that ghosted across Sin's face. "You're welcome."

Now definitely in a good mood, Boyd reverently set the tea down and pulled out the water heater. "I'll make some right away," he announced. There was no answer and he didn't turn around, but over his shoulder Sin's expression was a mixture of relief and contentment. It was strange, really. It had probably been their worst and most hurtful argument in the time that they'd known each other but for some reason it was like a huge weight was gone and a lot of tension that had built up over the months had finally disappeared.

Boyd busied himself in the kitchen for awhile, turning on the tap and letting the brown water that had been stored in the pipes for who knew how long run out until it turned clear. Water was not at such a shortage in a place like Monterrey that he necessarily needed to watch every drop, but he was still careful not to waste more than was necessary. He started noting what he would have to buy in the next few days; a filter for water they were not boiling, some mugs now that he would have a hot drink, and so on. As it was, he was going to have to use normal cups for the tea.

Behind him, Sin busied himself with finding a place to stash his weapons. The room was so bare that there really wasn't anywhere to hide them, so for the moment he ended up wedging them into the cupboard beneath the sink in the bathroom. Boyd decided that one of the first things he would do the next day was either find him a better hiding place, or buy him something to put them in that was safer and less likely to damage the weapons. The water got hotter far quicker than he expected and Boyd was careful not to let the tea steep too long; jasmine got bitter if given too much time. While he waited for the tea to cool a little, he started to put away the food and supplies they bought earlier. Sin, meanwhile, put the sheets on his bed in such a precise manner that it was militaristic. He did not, however, bother doing anything but throw the other set of sheets on Boyd's bed.

Boyd waited until he deemed the jasmine tea cool enough for consumption before he carefully brought the cups back over to the beds, sitting on his while he held one glass out to Sin. "Drink some tea," he ordered casually.

Eyeing the tea, Sin looked back up at Boyd and stared at him briefly with an unreadable expression but he accepted the glass and even drank some of it.

They fell silent and Boyd breathed in the aroma of his tea. The smell of jasmine calmed him and he found himself thinking about their earlier argument. He swirled the tea around a few times, letting his eyes focus on the golden color of it before looking up.He searched Sin's expression; the slight pout of his lips, the intensity of his eyes, the way his hair fell messily across his forehead. How long had it taken them to get to this point, where they could sit next to each other in relatively comfortable silence drinking tea? How many times had he misunderstood Sin, misinterpreted something he said or did? How often had it simply never occurred to him to tell him anything important and how often had he avoided topics even if he knew he shouldn't?

All that confusion and Boyd had even been treated normally since birth. He'd not been shunned, treated like an animal or monster, controlled and used as a scapegoat, or abused without having the ability to fight back. Yet Sin had. There'd been no one for Sin to really trust in the Agency and then Boyd had come along, constantly telling him not to listen to others without ever really bothering to explain his own side. Why should Sin have listened to him rather than all the others in his life, except because he wanted what Boyd said to be true? How would Sin know who Boyd was, what he thought and felt, if Boyd never told him? Sin had even asked Boyd not to give up on him and Boyd had said he wouldn't, but even if he was always telling Sin he was human he didn't seem to be giving him the chance to err like one. If it was so difficult for Boyd to get to the point of being able to comfortably sit near him in amiable silence, it must have been much worse for Sin who did not have past experience with friends or family to draw from. At least Boyd had Lou in his life; he highly doubted Sin had someone who filled the same role.

"I'm sorry," Boyd said sincerely, if a little suddenly. "Earlier, I said a lot of things I didn't really mean. I shouldn't have mocked your trust like that. It must be hard for you to even trust me at all but I just ignored that. If I had..." He trailed off briefly then shook his head to himself once. "If I ever do make you lose trust in me, it's a serious matter. I didn't mean to imply differently."

Sin watched his partner, face carefully blank even as his fingers absently tapped against his glass. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it, and then shook his head. "It doesn't matter anymore. It's done with."

Boyd shook his head to himself and didn't look away from Sin. "No, that's something that is always pertinent regardless of how much time has passed. I don't want to ever lose your trust." He hesitated pensively, his eyebrows drawing down slightly. "And..." This was going to be a little harder to explain properly, so he chose his words carefully. "I don't think you've ever meant to hurt me on purpose. I can't say the thought hadn't ever crossed my mind, that there weren't times... Sometimes I got confused, I didn't used to know what you intended, we never talked about anything so I couldn't tell... But now..."

He trailed off and paused, frustrated that he couldn't seem to say any of this right. "That night, in the woods, I don't-- I never blamed you for it, I understood the circumstances. I only brought it up again because... When you gave me the ring, it really..." He shook his head to himself. "It really unbalanced me. So when you reached for me, in my mind I jumped to the worst-case scenario and blindly thought of times like that night, not because I blamed you for them but because they had happened. Because it was plausible it could happen again and that ring already made me think of pain, so..."

He sighed, frustrated, and watched Sin intently. "I'm trying to say... Even if for some reason I ever do pull away, it's not because I think you're a monster or you are only capable of hurting me. It's because... something else is happening in my mind and my automatic reaction is to flee from any hint of perceived danger. Which, at a point like that, would probably be anyone next to me even doing the most innocuous of actions. It's... I've always thought you were human, I've never thought you an animal or monster; that won't change. And I don't intend to hurt you, either. I've never wanted to hurt you. That also won't change. Even if some day you hate me, those facts will remain. I'm sorry if... I ever led you to believe I thought differently."

For a moment there was no response and Sin gazed at him steadily, his expression not giving away his thoughts or feelings on the matter. After awhile he shook his head slowly and his mouth lifted in a faint smile. "It's kind of disturbing how we come to these resolutions through arguments and fighting. That seems to be a trend with us."

"Hmm, that's true," Boyd said, leaning back on one hand and holding the glass with the other. He paused then smiled teasingly. "Does that mean if I ever want to get my way I just have to pick a fight with you first?"

Sin regarded his partner for a long moment. "I'm sure that over the next several months you will come up with some other clever way of making me agreeable." He took a sip of his tea and said nothing more.

Boyd smiled rather enigmatically and inclined his head. "I'm sure I will."

They fell back into comfortable silence for the rest of the night, neither of them bringing up their argument again now that it had been resolved. It was strange that they'd managed to get over such an intense shouting match so easily when such cruel things had been said, but more than anything it showed that most of their difficulties would have been resolved a lot sooner if they'd actually spoken about it openly a long time ago.

When night finally came, Boyd changed into loose pajama pants and a long-sleeved, light fabric shirt. The room was still very hot even with the A/C going, but Boyd could not go without a long-sleeved shirt when he had nothing to cover his wrists. Even if he admitted to Sin that he had scars, he still wasn't ready to show them and he was a little paranoid that the cuffs on his wrists would slip around in his sleep. Although Sin had been lying in bed long before Boyd, he was not the first to fall asleep and for a long time he lay there silently, watching the shadows on the walls in a manner that made Boyd recall the surveillance videos where he'd done the same.

Curled on his side without even the single sheet draped over him, Boyd relaxed listening to Sin's quiet, even breathing. It was comforting, somehow, knowing Sin was there; between the knowledge that he was not alone and the emotionally exhausting day, Boyd fell asleep within minutes.

---

¹: Cállate la boca, blancito: Spanish, "Shut your mouth, little white boy."

²: Va te faire foutre. Putain de beau gosse: French, "Fuck you... Sexy bastard." Note: Thanks to Kira for the translation!

Continue to Ch 26 ~ Prospects