Forty Years of This [Monster Hunter World]

Chapter 33

It was the sort of cloudy morning that drove a man to stay in bed. The Commander felt old. His daughter was married, his body ached over nothing, and his most interesting discussions now were more along the lines of how his stomach reacted to the things the chefs were trying out.

"I had the weirdest, musical gurgle the other night. I couldn't believe it came from me."

He groaned and rolled over at the thought. He missed the days his body didn't ache, but those days ended far sooner than anyone ever warned him. Even before his misadventure with the anjarnath, his joints were already starting to hurt. It was with a sudden panic he rolled back over to face his partner. The man was laying on his back with his eyes open but made no move to get up.

"████████--" he blurted before shaking the man's shoulder. "How long have we been here? What year is it? How old am I?"

The Quartermaster turned lazily to look at his panicked partner. "We've been here for twenty-two years. Your birthday is in a few months, but right now you're only forty-five. I'm forty-eight. Today's date is ░░-░░-░░░░. What sparked this sudden mortal panic, Love?"

"We're really that old..." The Commander slumped down again.

"It's not that old... We have at least forty years left on us."

"That's easy for you to say." He grinned. "You were born looking like an old man."

"Well. I was born looking old anyways. But we still have all of our teeth and most of our hair. Some people don't start their families until they're our age."

"Do you really think we'll make it to our eighties?" Was this a mid-life crisis? He'd heard of people panicking and drastically changing their lives, but he never understood the cause of it. He'd been faced with mortality before, but it hadn't come with the looming spectre of death, much less feeling like he didn't have enough time. But his partner remained placidly watching him, no doubt studying his fearful expressions.

With a sigh, the Quartermaster reached up and cupped the Commander's jaw in his hand. The man's thumb ran over his beard and cheek. "Yes," he said. "I think we will make it into our eighties. I think we will see our grandchildren, and perhaps we'll see our great-grandchildren. Just so long as you don't jump down some monster's throat, you and I will be here for quite some time yet."

"Heh. I never did settle the score with that pink monster." He grinned, but he didn't feel any better. The Quartermaster could see it on his face and pulled him a little closer.

"My Love, that monster is dead. It was sick, and the Huntsman put it down. The gem that formed in its gut and dug against its lungs was broken down and used to fabricate a fire-resistant lining for the Seeker."

"Do you think he's still alive?" The Commander leaned forward and knocked his head against the Quartermaster's. He rested with their foreheads pressed together and the Quartermaster's pale eyes filling his vision.

"I do." The Quartermaster blinked but didn't pull away. "I think it would be very hard to kill him. If not for his skill as a hunter and a survivor, then for the simple fact that he's the type of bastard who won't die. Even a concentrated effort on his life wouldn't put him down."

The Commander sputtered. He'd never heard the Quartermaster speak ill of the Seeker before. "I thought you two were friends--"

"I have never made such a claim, but do not mistake my words for harsh judgement. There are many ways to be a bastard that have nothing to do with the historical meaning of the word. I would consider myself one. I know I appear contemptuous, haughty, aloof, and over all unkind. Unsympathetic... Lacking empathy... Devoid of proper expression or knowing how to interact with my fellow people. In that, I am a bastard."

"You are none of those things--"

The Quartermaster cut him off before he could finish. "I am all of those things, and you do see it. But you also see something you love in me. I like to think that I am not a bastard to you, but to those who deal with me on a strictly professional basis... to those who have to jump through hoops of paperwork and doing things in the proper order... I am a bastard." There was that sly smile pulling on the corners of his lips. "Or have you forgotten your perception of me when we first met? I know seventeen years of this can dull the memory of before, but..."

"I remember you as an awkward, stiff man who was hard to read. I remember a lot of quiet mornings where you allowed me a space to think and clear my head. You were never cruel even if you were curt, and you worked your ass off. You're different from the typical commissioner, but I wouldn't call you a bastard for it."

The Quartermaster's eyes grew glassy, and he quickly ducked forward to press his face into the Commander's shoulder. He wrapped his arm around the Commander and held him so tightly that the Commander struggled to breathe.

"I love you, ████. Stars above, I love you so much." His words were muffled against the Commander's shoulder, but he didn't move. The Commander just patted his back and wondered where it was all coming from.

"Are you ok?" The Commander stopped patting the Quartermaster's back and moved to stroking his hair. "████████?"

His partner mumbled something, then pulled away. His face was bright pink with tears starting to run down his cheeks. At first, he avoided meeting the Commander's eyes, but when the Commander put his hand on the Quartermaster's cheek and wiped away some of the tears, the man smiled, a soft, visible smile, closed his eyes, and leaned into the Commander's hand.

"I suppose while you were having a moment of memento mori, I was having a moment of self-loathing. I don't hate myself. I used to when I was little, I think. But I do hate how I am perceived. I can't change that. I thought even you felt that way at some point, and while I suspect you may have, well... You've only ever been honest with me."

"It's not how everyone perceives you. It's how you perceive them perceiving you. Hey, look at me." The Commander waited for his partner to look at him (even if he avoided his eyes and stared at his nose-- a trick the Quartermaster had let him in on long ago). "Do you remember when we first spoke?"

"Oh no... I try not to." A snarl briefly appeared on the man's lips before they shifted back to that small smile.

"You told me that if I had an issue with you, I had to tell you or you'd never know. And I know that's still true because of the spat we had last week. Twenty-two years of friendship, seventeen of partnership, and we still have to spell things out for each other."

"I feel as though you are rubbing in my insecurities about myself. Pointing out the flaws and seeming insurmountable hurdles, putting a limelight on the inevitable distance between us."

"No-- what I'm saying is that even as close as we are, with as much love and trust is between us, we're not mind readers. The only way to know if the rest of the people out there think you're a cold bastard is for them to tell you. You can't assume that. You're not a bastard. You are compassionate, and people see that. They see you being kind to the hares. They see you working hard to make sure we're all fed. Stiff isn't cold."

"I have... softened under your influence. But thank you, Love. I needed that."

The Commander smiled, kissed the Quartermaster's cheek, then leaned forward to growl in the man's ear. "Of course, you're not the only one who's stiff every now and again."

The Quartermaster let out a sharp guffaw, slapped the Commander's shoulder, and pulled away. "You're a teenager! Here you are worried about dying of old age, and you're spouting things like that. Well. There is a great deal to get done, but..." He looked out the window to the grey sky and drizzling rain. "Five more minutes. Or twenty."

Contrary to the Commander's comment, the two simply laid in bed holding each other until they could will themselves to face the dreary, miserable day.