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They caught him around the Docks.
Well, it was more like Ikora caught him. Zavala meant well, the big lug, but... well , he was a Titan. Titans were big, loud. Very unlike the sneaky little Hunters who were light on their feet and could disappear at a moments notice. Not to toot his own horn or anything, but Cayde was very proud and certain to say he could elude Zavala. Even on one of his bad days.
Ikora on the other hand?
The hand on his shoulder squeezed twice. Cayde swallowed his groan of frustration.
Ikora was mean.
She sounded almost amused when she turned him around. “Did you really think we wouldn’t notice?” she deadpanned. There was a sparkle of mischief in her eyes.
Cayde rubbed his hands together. Paused. Behind her he noticed blue approaching and watched Zavala advance, weaving awkwardly between engineers and ships. The Titan was breathing as if he had ran halfway across the city to catch up and looking down he noticed Ikora was holding her comm in her other hand. Huh. Maybe ol’ Baldy did run.
“Well,” he started lamely. “I did think I was rather, uh, inconspicuous.”
Ikora snorted. Great. Here came the roasting. “You? Inconspicuous? More like a paid man lying between his teeth. We had you pegged as soon as you bolted from the office.”
“Excuse me, I’ll have you know I did not bolt.” He noticed her look. “Ok. Maybe I was a little excited. But you couldn’t gotten it completely from that! What gave it away?”
“Other than your apparent excitement to do paperwork?” Ikora crossed her arms, clearly mimicking him. He’d get her back for that someday. “Well, I received a presumably queued email you sent me saying you were down with the Exo flu for the next two weeks and couldn’t come to work.”
Shit. Cayde blinked twice, tried a laugh. “ Oh, that. Must’ve been one of my drafts. Pocket-emailed you. You know? It happens.”
“Uh-huh.” Ikora gestured to the right and her Ghost rose in blue binary. She swiped and a letter beamed itself right in front of him. Zoomed in. The email was dated today.
Son of a -
“Hm,” was what he could manage on short-notice.
“That is not all.” Zavala cued in, as if today was gang up on Cayde day. The Titan pulled from his pocket a bunch of crumpled papers, ones Cayde recognized immediately. “I found this in my desk. These are the next assignments for the next two weeks.”
Son of a goddamn --
“I thought it’d be nice to be pre-emptive for once.” He finger-gunned.
It did not land, at all. More crashed and burned. There was a heavy silence, then the Titan rubbed at his face. "You are sneaking away with your hunter," Zavala finally accused.
Cayde-6 tried innocent. "Would I do that?"
"Yes," Ikora said without hesitation.
Great. Alright. That was how it was going to go. Cayde bit back words -- anger rose befuddled in his chest, edged in frustration and anxiety. Half his mind was listening for the sounds of engines taking off behind him. None of them were the Guardian’s yet. Good.
If only they hadn’t caught up to him. He could’ve snuck away so much faster if Ikora hadn’t poked her nose into his businesses, or he hadn’t shown some responsibility. It would’ve been hilarious if he wasn’t on a time-limit. Getting caught for following the rules? Pre-anxiety Cayde would’ve been hollering. Now, however, wrath brimmed in him. A part of him chided him for acting like a toddler caught in their mischief, but another part chanted tick, tock, take off. It all caught in his chest and flared along every biolight, enough that he wondered if he was glowing red faintly under his plating.
The only reason he was angry currently, he admitted, was that they were right . The plan had been to flee. Sneak aboard the Guardian’s ship and make up a lie about Zavala sending him along, spew some tale about the planet they were supposed to be infiltrating. He had memorized the details of the planet when the Guardian had told him they were heading out on another mission, enough that every time he closed his eyes he could see the ridges and bumps of the holomap, fleshed out over the planet of mud. He could play like he knew what was happening. Assist the Guardian. Be there, in case something went wrong.
(and something always went wrong -- always, always )
He slumped against Ikora’s hand. “Alright, you got me.” He said, and it was bitter. “I’m leaving. Might be going on vacation. Hell knows I need it.”
Ikora saw through the half-truth. Her grip tightened on his shoulder, as if trying to wrestle the words out of him. A kind, firm grip. She always did know how to ground him. “Mhm. Try again.”
“I --” He shot her a glare. She sent one back. It stung, even if he knew he deserved it. “Look.”
“Cayde,” Zavala softly said, voice barely more than a rumble. Faint anger was in it, amidst confusion. “Tell us. A Vanguard does not abandon duties. They inform .”
He gritted his jaw. Zavala furrowed his brow back. Damn the Titan and his rules. Damn Ikora for noticing. Damn them for caring.
“You’re sending him away,” was what he finally said. Not sad. Not angry. Just...hurt.
Zavala grunted. The furrow in his forehead disappeared, replaced by understanding. “Cayde,” he said -- then cut off, hesitating. Finally, the Titan found words that were appropriate. “A Guardian must have missions.”
“A Guardian must have rests,” Cayde snapped back.
Ikora’s hand slipped from his shoulder to the side of his arm. “He volunteered.”
Something burst in him, like a fuse he hadn’t known he had. “No. Look. He doesn’t know how to stop -- he doesn’t take rests. He doesn’t sleep easy. He’s running on guilt and responsibilities.” Cayde could hear his voice cracking. Somehow, that did not bother him. “You guys are enabling him, encouraging him -- look, I’m concerned he won’t -- you know, he won’t --”
Won’t come back.
There was silence, for enough time that Cayde didn't need to look up to know they were hurting. He let his dentae grind anyways. A few mechanics passed, but did not say a word. The tension was thick enough around them for the hangar to fall blissfully, achingly quiet.
“He volunteered,” Zavala repeated. His voice sounded tired. All of their voices sounded tired -- guardians must have missions , he noted, subdued in amusement. “Did you expect us to turn away any help we can get?”
No. No, of course not. He tried to say the words. They would not come out.
An engine clicked on behind him. Shit. That was Guardian’s ship all right; even Ikora and Zavala could recognize the humming fine engine turning on like a warm-up of a choral tenor. It was one of the best ships in the hangar, after all. Everyone knew that.
They also all knew; his time stalling with Ikora and Zavala? That was up.
He turned back to them. “I’m going,” he stated. It wasn’t a request. “I’ll see you in two weeks. Rookie has everything managed in my Vanguard.”
They said nothing. Exhaustion plagued their eyes. Yet they did not move to stop him. Somehow, that hurt more.
He paused. “Look, aight, this is my vacation. Two weeks?” Zavala raised an eyebrow at that. He could almost hear the big lug’s thoughts of ‘ what is a vacation.’ That got a grin going, weary as it was. “Comeon, don’t be like that. You guys get to have one after. We’ll take turns. Sound good?”
Ikora’s mouth, almost bittersweet, twitched into a smile. “Get goin’, lover boy. ”
He saluted. And with that, he leapt onto the side of the ship and hoisted himself in.
The Guardian was bent over the console when he slipped inside. His Ghost hung over his shoulder eyeing his movements -- after a brief look Cayde saw him inputting the coordinates, hands slightly slowening. Stalling for time, it seemed. He was thankful for that. If the Guardian had been any quicker Cayde would’ve missed his ride.
(and that would’ve been fun to chase after him in his own ship. He imagined how bad Zavala would have freaked and a tinge of regret rose, just for a second.)
But it gave him an idea. Quietly he approached -- they didn’t call him Ol’ Slip in cadet training for nothing. The Guardian stood, unaware. He readied his fingers.
One second. Two seconds. He waited for the right moment. This was revenge here. Revenge, pure and simple. The Guardian deserved this for what he had done before, when he had tickled Cayde away. Vengeance had to be served.
The coordinates pinged in. The Guardian grunted, and began to straighten.
Boom. Opening.
He shot forward. The fingers dug into plating and tickled right along sensitive biolights. There was a zap; static electricity traced up his fingers.
And as he tasered his poor lover, he said slyly, “Hey darling.”
The Exo shrieked. It came out more a mix between a buzz and a yelp. He lost his shit as the Guardian spun around, grappling for a means of defense; then, seeing him, relaxed just as quick. The Exo flubbed to say something, then realized what he had done to him. Five seconds passed.
(he was so doomed.)
“Cayde, by the light I will strangle -- ”
“Ok ok ok I give, I give -- Sunshine, please ,” he managed between laughter as the Exo batted his hands away and dove for his own biolights. It resulted in a somewhat sissy fight across the pilot deck. Behind them Polaris hummed, clearly impressed at the sheer lack of their combined professionalism. “Please, oh my god, do not--!”
“You nearly overloaded my systems .” The Guardian spat -- there was no rage, only delighted mirth. One of his fingers shot out and Cayde felt his side seize up. Now he was truly laughing, as static energy flickered along his veins.
“I did warn!” He protested. Ack, another jab to the side. He felt the wall of the hull hit his side and with that he dramatically flung himself backwards, a sign of submissive dramatics. His Exo paused just to roll his eyes at the antics. “Alright, alright, I didn’t. I’m so sorry Mr. Big Handsome Guardian, you caught me. I’m so guilty. Whatcha gonna do, baby?”
The Guardian flushed. He saw those biolights glow bright blue for a second, mortified. Gotcha, a part of him crowed. “I’m going to kick you off this ship,” the exo muttered.
“Kick me? Me?” He pushed himself off the wall and put an arm over the Exo’s shoulders. Thankfully, this time he did not get static energy for his efforts. “After I crawled all the way up here just for you? Love, you wound me.”
Guardian glared back. It held no sting. “I wasn’t aware you were part of the mission.”
Cayde paused, plastered an innocent smile. Here came the rehearsed half-truths. “Well, I was put on vacation and Zavala encouraged me to assist the outerworld affairs. So I decided, well I'm going to be the big good Hunter Vanguard exo and come help you. You can thank me later." He punctuated the sentence with a wink.
The Guardian’s biolights flared. Ain’t that cute. Cayde resisted the urge to run his fingers along the sides of the Exo’s face, into the gaps where biolights laid sensitive. He was sure he’d get a melted Exo into his arms if he did; and the aircraft was about to take off, with pilot or without. Bad idea. Ignore the temptations. Greed was a deadly sin, even to see his partner pliant.
“Sap,” the Exo finally stuttered out.
“Smooth.”
Guardian shoved his arm off playfully. He pretended to lose his balance and tipped forward into the side of the exo, clutching to his back. “Wow,” he said once he ‘recovered’. “Attacked by my own love. I’m calling a divorce.”
“You can’t divorce me. If anything? I divorce you. You abused me first.” The Guardian sat back down into the pilot’s cockpit. The screen onlined, depicting the beauty of Vanguard's atmosphere. The objective quickly flicked onto the surface. Ah, ol’ mud planet. If it was any other circumstance Cayde would be moping about his plating, but now? With him by his side? What a beautiful sight. “Alright then, assistant. Are you ready for our first mission?”
“Assistant? First -- I'm your bodyguard and B, come-on,” Cayde took the other seat and stretched out. Sent another wink, this time aimed at Polaris and Sundance. The two Ghosts rolled their eyes. “I was born ready.”
“How original,” the Guardian said and he was smiling now. What a nerd.
(God. He loved this Exo. He was here. Everything would be...ok.)
The coordinates locked on. The ship rose.
And like that, they were gone.