Fic: Visualising Better Days [M; A Working Man, Levon/Gunny]

[jedibuttercup]

M; A Working Man (2025); Levon Cade/Gunny Lefferty. 1900w, for bethefirst.

"I was gonna give you another year or so to process, if you were still keeping your distance," Gunny said, "but you sound like a man in need of a reminder that he's not alone. So get your ass on over here."

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Title: Visualising Better Days
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the world is not.
Spoilers: A Working Man (2025)
Notes: For the flash round of bethefirst: a missing scene from this year's Jason Statham movie.

Summary: "I was gonna give you another year or so to process, if you were still keeping your distance," Gunny said, "but you sound like a man in need of a reminder that he's not alone. So get your ass on over here." 1900 words.

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It had been a long, tiring couple of days. Levon took a long pull from his beer bottle, then stared down at his free hand, making a slow fist to test the range of motion. He wasn't as young as he used to be, and he had the feeling the worst fights were still ahead of him.

All for a girl he couldn't even be sure was still alive. But he'd made a promise. One way or another, he was going to bring Jenny Garcia home.

Behind him, he heard the front door of the cabin creak open, followed by the slow careful steps of Gunny shuffling his way out to join him. The other man patted the arm of the empty chair next to Levon's, then lowered himself into it and tipped back a bottle of his own.

"You good out here?" he asked.

"Yeah. Just thinking," Levon replied, staring out into the dark woods that surrounded the cabin. The rustic property Gunny and his wife had bought wasn't that far outside the city, but it always felt like such a refuge, a world removed from both the chaos of the war they'd met in and the busy construction sites that filled his days now.

There was a reason he'd told Joe he didn't do this sort of thing anymore; after a certain point, the losses started outweighing the wins. Back then, Levon hadn't been there for his family when his wife's depression had got the better of her; today, if the Russians' goons had been a little more pragmatic about their timing, he might not have been there for his daughter either when they'd burned down his father-in-law's house. It had been stupid of him not to expect they might track down his true identity; he should have known they'd come looking for reprisal once the losses started to stack up.

If it hadn't been Jenny he'd been asked to save... but who else did Jenny have but him? The Garcias were excellent employers and better friends to a washed-up vet doing his damnedest to reclaim custody of his daughter, but they knew nothing about the world that had swallowed up their own daughter, and he already knew the local cops were on the take. Once he found Jenny... well, he'd deal with the consequences when he had time to think about them.

"Thought I smelled something burning," Gunny chuckled, shifting his arm to bump their elbows together. For a man with almost no vision left, he had a very unerring sense of proprioception; he always knew where he was relative to everything around him. "Seriously, though. It's been a while since you exercised those particular muscles. How's it feel to pick the sword back up?"

Levon felt his mouth quirk into a bitter smile. "Like I never put it down."

"Like that, huh," Gunny replied, dryly. "Wish I could be there to back you up, brother."

"You're exactly where I need you to be," Levon assured him. "I'm doing this because I told Jenny I'd have her back; and because I'd want someone to do it for Meredith if I couldn't. But I can only do it because I have you and Joyce to look after Merry."

They'd already put Merry in the guest bed after dinner; Joyce had sung softly to her while Levon helped clean up the dishes, and then she'd shooed him outside to decompress while she made up the couch. It wouldn't be the most comfortable place he'd ever slept, but it wouldn't be the worst either, and he didn't quite trust himself to sleep within arm's length of his daughter with blood so fresh on his hands. As long as he caught a few hours before dawn, it'd be enough to keep him going.

"Of course, man. However long you need. She's a good kid. You taking off first thing?" Gunny gestured with his beer bottle in the vague direction of Levon's rental car.

"The sooner the better. The longer it takes to find Jenny, the worse her chances of making it out of this mess in one piece. I don't want to have to give that news to her parents."

"I hear you," Gunny sighed, then reached out again, settling a hand on Levon's shoulder. "Just make sure you come back in one piece, too. I wasn't kidding when I said I miss ya."

Fondness welled up in him, hard years' worth of memories spent in the field with their counter-terrorism team distilled down to the loyalty and love for one another that had kept them going during the rough times. Joyce had served, too; she understood enough to be kinder to Levon than he probably deserved when he crashed up here like this. But Levon's wife hadn't; that hadn't been the part of him she'd fallen for. His father-in-law found his record repugnant rather than admirable, and almost every other adult he met seemed to see him either as an obstacle or a tool when it came right down to it. He didn't like to think of himself as lonely, but there it was.

"I've missed you too, you know. But I don't like to intrude."

"Is that why…?" Gunny turned his face toward him, tone exasperated, the dark lenses of his wraparound sunglasses reflecting a shadowy image of Levon's face back at him. "Fuck, I told you when you got out that you were always welcome up here. And I did mean welcome. I understood it when you were married; you wanted to honour your vows. But you were there for mine, and I distinctly remember Joyce joking about you being her brother wife."

"Gunny…" He wasn't sure what to say; wasn't even sure how to articulate himself what he'd been feeling, all those months he'd been sleeping in his truck, saving for legal fees and unable to visualise better days coming back over the horizon. Grief had been a part of it, of course, as well as worry for his daughter, mixed with lingering guilt over Gunny's injuries. But a certain amount of not wanting to bring his cloud to his friends' horizon had probably also figured into it.

"I was gonna give you another year or so to process, if you were still keeping your distance," Gunny interrupted, "but you sound like a man in need of a reminder that he's not alone. So get your ass on over here." He patted a hand encouragingly on the arm of his chair.

Levon snorted, amused despite his conflicted emotions. The heavy wooden loungers Gunny kept on his porch had slanted backs, encouraging those sat in them to lean back, and arm-rests big enough to set a plate on. They weren't really built to fit two. "What, you want me to sit crosswise over your lap like a pretty princess?"

"I don't care how the fuck you sit, I want my hands on your skin," Gunny replied, voice dropping to a low rumble. "And since all the beds are occupied, this is what we got. Unless you want go make out in the back seat of your car like a teenager."

"I think the bench seat of Joyce's truck would be more comfortable; but no, this'll do," Levon drawled back, finally yielding to impulse and getting up out of his chair. Gunny was sitting with his legs sprawled wide; Levon planted one knee on the edge of the seat between them to lean forward, one hand braced on the arm of the chair and the other against Gunny's shoulder, to press their foreheads together in a moment that felt like coming home.

Gunny wrapped one callused hand around the back of his neck, and they breathed there several seconds as the tense knots finally started loosening in Levon's shoulders. Then Gunny pulled back long enough to slide off his sunglasses, tossing them toward Levon's abandoned chair before gripping Levon's flanks to tug him into a more conducive position and slanting their mouths together.

Making out with Gunny was a full-contact sport; Levon could feel energy sparking into lust under his skin, jarring him out of the bleakness he'd been mired in lately like a man surfacing for a breath after nearly having drowned. They'd both changed since the last time they'd done this, marked by the passage of years and the different lives they'd lived since parting, but failing into each other was still familiar as breathing. He'd have called it comforting, if it wasn't for the increasing chafe of his jeans and the incipient beard burn.

"Wait, fuck," Gunny hissed as they finally came up for air, wedging a hand between them to reach for their zippers. "I'm a little too old to be coming in my jeans like this."

"Speak for yourself," Levon snarked back, shifting back just far enough to assist. "I'm more worried about the laundry; I didn't bring much in the way of spare pants."

"Let me just…" Gunny trailed off again as skin met skin; and then the moment dissolved into heat and motion, curses swallowed against one another's mouths.

In the aftermath, they made good use of the beach towel that had been draped over the porch railing after a creek trip during the last warm week of fall and forgotten there to sun-dry. Levon did end up sprawled princess-style over the bigger man's lap once they were put back together, but found himself unable to care, soaking up every moment of close contact he was allowed.

"I am going to come back, you know," Levon said, some time later when the beer bottles were empty and his pulse had finally settled back into its usual rhythm. "I already promised Merry. This is just more reason."

"Good," Gunny murmured back, threading his fingers through the hand Levon had been flexing earlier. "You go looking to go out in a blaze of glory, one'll probably find you. I'd much rather sit down to breakfast with you after and welcome you home."

"I fucked up letting them find me. But I won't fuck up this part," Levon replied. "I know where I'm going next; I've just got to follow this thread to the end. With your arsenal and the rust scraped off my skills, I'm not worried; they'd have to outnumber me pretty heavily to be a threat, and the last thing the Vor want is a spectacle the press can't ignore. I get to Jenny, I'm pretty sure that'll be the end of it."

"From your lips to God's ears," Gunny said, lowly. Then he settled back in his chair again, listening to the chirp of crickets and the faint sounds of the wind soughing through the trees.

They stayed outside until the chill of the night air finally bit through their clothes, then turned in to their rest; and in the morning, Levon headed off on the next stage of his mission with a kiss for his daughter, a nod for Gunny, and a heart-felt thank you for Joyce. He felt energized again and ready. Jenny was strong; the Russians had so far been less than brilliant; and he still had enough of Joe's expense fund left to get him where he needed to go.

Maybe the worst fights were still ahead. But he'd made his promises, and prepared as best he could. All he had to do now was follow through.


(x-posted @ AO3)