Title: (give me) things that don't get lost

Author: Jedi Buttercup

Rating: T; slash

Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.

Summary: "This isn't just about Caesar, is it? You haven't been the same since Billy. You never really talked about that, either." 2000 words.

Spoilers: Expendables 3 (2014)

Notes: Yuletide 2014 fic: for fullmoon02. Written as a treat! Set after the confrontation with Stonebanks, but before the end scene in the bar. Because I ship Lee/Barney, too. Title from the lyrics of "Old Man". Originally posted to LJ on 1/1/15.

In the end, none of the team needed to join Caesar for an overnight stay at the hospital, though there was the usual assortment of deep bruising, minor cuts and strains, and exhaustion. Particularly for Barney. They'd fought off half an army before his little mano-a-mano with Stonebanks, and the run across the collapsing roof to reach the helicopter line hadn't exactly been a walk in the park, either. They really were getting too old for this shit.

Barney would quit the Expendables when he was cold in the ground, though, and not a moment before. And like hell Lee was ever going to let the man take a job without him again.

Wouldn't even let him out of his sight, if he could help it. He trailed after him to Caesar's room after the docs were done with them, to let the man know they'd paid Stonebanks back in his own coin. The wounded Expendable was asleep though, Barney's 'lucky' ring still winking from the tray table beside his bed. Lee hovered in the doorway for a moment, watching Barney while he hovered over Caesar with a distant, pained expression; then Barney turned toward him, gesturing toward the door.

Yeah; no. Lee sighed and crossed his arms, wincing as it pulled at one of the knife nicks in that early, itchy stage of healing. The moment they left the hospital, Barney was going to disappear back to the hangar, and Lee wasn't in the mood to test his welcome there after everything that had happened. He felt like shit already; driving back to a hotel after being ejected from Barney's sanctum was not his idea of a good time, and it wasn't like Barney was going to come to him. Better to seize the moment.

"You don't leave me behind again. Ever," he said, in firm, quiet tones, so as not to wake Caesar.

Barney set his jaw, looking older and tireder than ever. "We really going to do this here?"

"Yes, really. You've been ducking the conversation since we showed up to pull your fat out of the fire, remember? Glad as I am to hear you're keeping the young 'uns on- it's been years since the team was big enough for decent backup- you're not going to take that as license to sideline the rest of us again whenever you get your knickers in a knot."

"Classy, Christmas." Barney replied, a reluctant smile lifting some of the shadows in his eyes. "Since when were you the one giving the orders?"

"Gee, let me think." Lee might, possibly, have been daydreaming about stowing a muzzle for Galgo in the next gear-out, but the Spaniard's habit of running his mouth had reminded him of a thing or two. "How long's the co-pilot's seat had my name on it?"

Barney shrugged, though he didn't deny the observation. "Doesn't change what I said. I can't live with taking you down with me."

"Even if I'm all right with that?" Lee raised an eyebrow.

"Even if you're all right with it." Barney shook his head, emphatically.

Lee glanced down at Caesar's sleeping form, at the thick bandages over his chest, and didn't comment on the fact that neither of them had said 'we'. "This isn't just about Caesar, is it? You haven't been the same since Billy. You never really talked about that, either."

"And you have?" Barney snorted. "Kid was one of the good ones; what is there to say? He had someone, and she lost him. Because of us. Because of this life. And so did you. You were gonna get married, Christmas."

"It's not at all the same thing," Lee growled. Barney took on enough guilt as it was without assuming responsibility for that. "You told me she had the cheating gene; I just didn't want to believe you."

"And you said it was only a half-cheat. Because she didn't know whether you'd be coming back," Barney reminded him.

"The first time, maybe. But after I gave her the ring? She should've known. But she didn't. That's on me, and on her, and our poor communication skills. But not you," Lee insisted. "If I hadn't been on the team, it would have happened some other time, some other way, and then I'd have nothing. Not even this. Whatever's left of it." He gestured between them.

Meaning the team; meaning getting to do what he was good at.

Meaning them. He'd never put it in so many words, but if need be, he'd even do that if it proved necessary. Lacy had been his shot at normal; but normal took a lot more effort than he was willing to put into it, anymore.

Fortunately, Barney seemed to get the gist without having to spell out the fine print. His expression shifted a little, craggy lines and drying streaks of blood settling into a less obstinate pattern.

"I thought..." he began, then shook his head again, starting the sentence over. "You know what the kid said to me? Before that last job, when he told me why he wanted out? Billy said his girl was the kind of person you want to do things for. Someone you don't even have to talk, you just know what they're thinking. Asked me if I'd ever had anyone like that."

Barney's dark eyes didn't shift away from Lee's face as he spoke. Lee could feel the blood start to rush to his face in response. "And you said...?"

Barney's wry, self-deprecatory smile and intent gaze were answer enough.

"Could have fooled me," Lee sighed, thinking about the way the rest of the Vilain mission had gone. Then he swore, as something that hadn't made sense at the time finally clicked into place. "You sent me back to the fucking plane for the weapons, even though it was a shit job and Toll or Gunner would have been better spared. What was that, some demented attempt at chivalry?"

Barney winced, lifting a hand to rub at one of the bruises on his chest as though acknowledging the hit. Parts of his tat peeked through a tear in his shirt, in blue and green and livid red. "Could have left out the demented. And I got over it damned quick, didn't I?"

"Until now. What the hell are you thinking?" Lee threw up his hands. "Barney- if this is really about not wanting anyone else you care about to get hurt- you realize you're deluding yourself, right?"

"As long as you're alive, who the hell cares?" Barney shrugged.

"You should care," Lee scoffed, incensed at the other man's willful blindness. "I been watching the way you interact with them. Smiley, Luna, all of 'em; even Galgo. Christ. You think it's going to hurt any less than Billy when one of them gets killed? You know as well as I do that sooner or later, one of that lot will add their dogtags to the collection."

Barney sighed and finally looked away. "One if we're lucky," he agreed. "I know. I know, all right? Here. Just not here." He tapped his temple, then the center of his broad chest with one blunt, callused finger. "Stonebanks shot Caesar when he could have killed me to make a point. He kidnapped those kids; he would have killed you."

Of all the moronic justifications. "We've all got enemies, Barney. Just because yours are as demented as everything else about you..."

"Again, with the demented," Barney cut that off short. "You got some kind of fixation with that word?"

Lee jabbed at him with a finger, unerringly connecting with one of the bruises where one of Stonebanks' bullets had struck Barney's vest. "Just shut up and listen. I told you I signed on for the whole ride. And now that I know what kind of garbage you get up to when I'm not around? You don't get to be the one who decides when it ends anymore. Period."

Barney winced, but didn't swat the hand away. "So I should just leave all the decisions up to you, is that it?"

"If that's what gets the job done," Lee snarled, entirely forgetting that he was supposed to be keeping quiet. "Got any more brilliant ideas I should be keeping an eye out for?"

Frustrated silence hung in the air for a moment; then a third, unexpected voice butted into the conversation.

"Just kiss and make up already. Somewhere that ain't here. For the love of God."

"Fuck," Barney blurted, looking as startled as Lee felt, turning toward the bed. "Caesar?"

"No, thank you; I'll leave that to Christmas," Caesar leered, voice hoarse but as full as life as ever.

Lee sputtered for a long moment as the urge to laugh and the relief of seeing Caesar awake warred with the still roiling turmoil of the unresolved issues hanging in the air; but in the end, the laugh won out. "Keep talking, my friend. Just remember, as soon as you're out of that bed, there'll be a reckoning."

"Yeah, yeah." Caesar said, flipping a hand at him. "You get the guy?"

"I got the guy," Barney nodded.

"Yeah, kinda sounds like you did," Caesar replied, grin widening as he glanced between them. "'Bout time. Gunner pay up on the bets yet?"

Barney'd walked right into that one. But Lee wasn't in the mood to be teased about it, not while the topic was still raw. "All right; enough already. We'll leave you to your rest," he said, finally backing out of the room. "And maybe you'll make more sense the next time we're here!"

"Aw, don't mind him; he's had a bug up his ass all day," he heard Barney say, slapping hands with Caesar. "Get well, you hear? I'll bring you some of that Rigatoni shit you like tomorrow."

Lee didn't hear Caesar's response; but a moment later, Barney joined him in the hall, a faint smile still lighting his features. Looked a hell of a lot better on him than the darkness Lee had seen when he'd first tracked him down, even if it added a shit-load of complications to deal with.

"So. The guys have been making bets about us," Barney said.

"You really surprised?" Lee shrugged. "Shoulda heard some of the things they've said about you and Trench."

Barney paused, searching Lee's face again, looking for something; maybe finding it this time. "Yeah, no; I don't think I do." Then he reached out to wrap a heavy hand around the nape of Lee's neck, pulling him close. "You're like a fungus, you know that? Can't fucking get rid of you. Guess I should never have tried."

A fungus, huh. As in, grows on you? Symbiotic? Lee could live with that. He let Barney rest their foreheads together a moment, mingling breaths in a sigh. Then he pulled back to glare at him again.

"Damn right you shouldn't. You used to say you can't change what is. Right? So take your own bloody advice next time you get some daft urge to sacrifice yourself for the team. Because it's never just been you you're putting on the chopping block."

"I think I'm starting to get that," Barney chuckled, shifting his grip to Lee's shoulders.

"Demented," Lee repeated in disgust, as the tense knots he'd been carrying along his spine for the last few weeks finally started to let go.

Barney grinned as though they'd just exchanged the Three Words, then turned to head for the elevator out of the building.

They still had a lot to hash out; and one of them probably would die on the other one day. But through the mud and the blood, they'd still have this constant; Lee could be content as long as that remained the case.

So sue him, he was a closet romantic.

He smiled to himself, feeling better than he had in weeks despite the aches and pains, as they headed for their bikes. Bumping their shoulders together as they walked.

-x-