collection of alan n barry scenes from the novelization that live in my mind rent free, either bc they're sweet or bc i really enjoy them being silly goofs together :']
"zane darling and estevez are the only queer rep in remedy games--"
BARRY WHEELER has dedicated his entire life as well as his career to doting on his childhood bestie. he categorically hates every single woman said bestie has ever been interested in. has longstanding jealous beef with the bestie's wife. attempts to insert himself into the bestie's romantic getaway with the wife on flimsy excuses. constantly gets on the bestie's case about being taken for granted. blushes when he manages to bait the bestie into giving him the tiniest bit of validation. carries around a cardboard cutout of the bestie. repeatedly calls the bestie hot. sleeptalks about a dream where the bestie gives him a raise for being hot himself. threatens and lies to cops and feds for the bestie. insists on risking his fucking life for the bestie fighting a supernatural force of evil despite being told in no uncertain terms that he can just go. puts all the previous jealous beef aside to support his bestie's wife through her grief after the bestie's disappearance. systematically gaslights himself into believing the bestie died despite knowing better because the thought that he's actually alive and nonstop suffering and there's nothing he or anyone else can do about it is just straight up too much to live with. moves to a city he hates to work with people he hates in an industry he hates just to continue to dedicate his life to protecting the bestie's interests and legacy a decade plus after his presumed death. STILL stays in touch with and looks after the bestie's wife
like what are we doing here suggesting this man could possibly be straight
@wolf-three-fifty-nine sent me this picture* from better call saul months ago saying it was Alan and Barry and I've been meaning to draw it ever since :')
Night after night Barry makes sure Alan gets home safe after partying, and night after night Alice is waiting for them with cold on her eyes, ready to give him a mouthful (whether she's right or wrong, he tries not to think about it). But what would happen if she weren't there one night?
Laying together on Alan's bed Barry tries to find a reason to walk away despite desperately wanting to stay. They've done this a million times before, right? Practically all the time when they were kids! Then why does it feel so different now?
Relationship: Alan Wake/Barry Wheeler ♦ Words: 3492
[on ao3] ♦ [read on site]
Stumbling down the hall with his weight supported by his friend, Alan laughed candidly, and it felt like music to Barry's ears. It had been a while since he heard him this happy and confident, spouting some drunk nonsense that could make for a good plot with some honing. Barry wanted to believe that this time they've done it, this time they've actually fixed that nasty block of his and things were going to go back to the way they were, no more brooding, no more fighting.
Never mind the fact he saw this exact scenario a couple times already in the past few months, but he was too far gone to care at the moment, the only cloud of worry present on his mind being his eventual departure now that they were at his apartment.
Surprisingly enough, Alan simply opened the door by leaning on it, never tuning the volume of his voice as they stepped into the pitch black apartment. Odd. Barry was about to ask for Alice's whereabouts when Alan grabbed his wrist and pulled him inside, still spilling his tale with enough confidence that he quickly forgot about the matter as they finally landed home.
"...It's gonna be great, Barry, it's gonna- It's gonna be so much better than the Casey books." Barry snorted, chugging down a glass of water as Alan shrugged his coat off, continuing talking from the hallway to his room. "I mean it! It's- It's even gonna make more money than them!"
"Al, you're completely underestimating the power of a good saga. But I like where your mind's at. I like where you're headed." He stated from the kitchen, expecting him to come back to continue their chat when he called him instead. Barry couldn't help but notice how bizarre it was to see the house in complete darkness except for the low light coming from the bedroom, how... wrong, it looked, but still chuckled at the sight of his best friend sprawled on the -empty- bed. "What're you, a starfish?"
Alan laughed, flailing his long extremities a bit with the effort, before sticking his hand up for Barry to grab. Wrongly assuming he needed a lift he took it, instead finding himself being dragged down, falling unceremoniously in the soft mattress at his side.
"Al, what the hell-"
"Listen." Alan hovered next to his laying figure, one hand propped against the bed as the other wavered in the tight space between them, trying to catch his attention. Which was ridiculous, as Barry's attention was always on him. "When I write this -and I will write this- I'll send you to the most... luxurious place you've ever seen. A hotel, a luxurious one! With a pool, and palm trees, and a... a massage room, or whatever you want."
Barry snorted when he pointedly poked his shoulder.
"You're drunk."
"And? I still mean it. Can't I also spoil my manager too?"
Barry laughed, cheeks flushed.
"Not how this business works, pal."
"Fine. I'm getting my best friend the best damn vacation he's ever had, how about that?"
He raised his hands in mock defeat, laying flat on his back with a grin as Alan gripped his shoulder.
"Okay Al, sure. But you have to come with me."
To this, Alan huffed a laugh and finally let him go, laying down on his side.
"Alice wouldn't like that."
"Screw Alice!" Alan called him out, his smile betraying his annoyance. "We'll make it a boys day out! Just us! Like before!"
Alan grinned fondly, eyes lost somewhere in the past.
“With a beer and a whole theater to ourselves?” Barry snorted, remembering their teen escapades.
"Only the very best for my bestseller."
"For my manager." He reminded him, sternly, before they both deflated into a fit of laughter.
Barry felt warm. With the alcohol, his coat still on while rolling on the bed, and just... the entire situation. He felt happy. Giddy. Warm. He never took his coat off when he got his best friend back to his house because he was acutely aware that Alice couldn’t stand him, and as much as every bone on his body told him to get rid of everything, take advantage of her absence, something felt wrong.
"Where is Alice anyway?” He asked, instead. “Don't think I've seen the apartment this dark since you first bought it."
It was a routine question to make sure he didn't get yelled at for invading her space, but the sour look that crossed his friend's face immediately worried him.
"She..." Alan rolled over to lay on his back, no longer looking at him. "A friend of her came to town, she went to visit her."
"Oh. Well, that's n-"
"Said she'd spend the night there."
Barry looked at him for a minute, resenting the mood change but also envisioning clearly what must have been the rest of the conversation. Alice didn't like them going out at night so much, he knew, didn't approve of the drinking and the partying, the coming in late, the getting out of control... Huffing, Barry resented the last one, as if he couldn't keep his best friend in check.
But Al was Al. Each argument was apocalyptic in nature. A simple “I’ll be staying somewhere else tonight” after a fight could very much speak divorce on his mind.
As if it only were that simple, Barry sighed, before smiling with what he hoped was enough confidence to clear the air.
"Y'know what? Good for her." Alan stared at him then, dead serious, and Barry squeezed his arm. "Lighten up, Al! She's visiting a friend and spending the night there, so what? I mean, you're kinda doing the same right now, aren't you?" Lowering his gaze, it was clear he needed more convincing. Propping himself up just enough to look at him directly, Barry jokingly messed his hair. "Besides, she's got nothing to complain today. You've been a good little writer who did not get into any fights," Alan huffed and rolled his eyes, but Barry could see the edge of a smile and pushed harder, letting his fingers run a bit through his hair in a teasing manner, "you caused no trouble and even made a good impression with the guys at the magazine I told you about. Excellent performance, five stars, no notes."
Finally a mocking smile escaped Alan's lips.
"'m not a restaurant."
"Could've fooled me, with all the food and drinks I've seen you around."
"Fuck you."
He was frowning, but everything on his face from his heavy eyelids to his grin spoke of lazy bliss as Barry kept playing with his hair.
"Hey, I'm paying you a compliment here, pal!"
Alan tried to swat his hand away and Barry doubled down in his lightly condescending petting, vaguely surprised when he eventually gave up, alcohol and sleep making him pliant. Alcohol and sleep and warmth making both of them so susceptible, that when Barry sank heavily into the mattress again Alan leaned sightly into him, pulled by his weight, by his gravity. He hummed, finally.
"I missed this, y'know?" His friend chuckled, and he turned to face him. "Don't laugh, I mean it!"
"Missed you too, Barry." He had a mocking smile, but his eyes brimmed with fondness. It was rare this days, too, in between the hangovers and the migraines, and Barry felt his chest burst. His heartbeat picked up, quick and loud, probably his body desperately trying to stay awake.
"I really don't want to go, Al." He confessed, despite himself.
"Then stay the night." He said it with so much ease, it brought him back to the time they were teenagers, fooling around for a few hours too long, it became easier to spend the night and go to school together than the alternative. Barry smiled at the memory, before laughing at the idea.
"Oh, Alice would hate that. She'd kill me." Alan laughed in response.
"Well, she's not here now, is she?"
That was true.
He pretended to consider it for a few seconds when a yawn caught him by surprise, interrupting his fleeting thoughts and letting Alan's words linger. Waking up to the face of the woman who couldn't stand him while they were having hiccups on their relationship was quite possibly the worst and only outcome of such decision, but as it was, with Alan's heavy eyes, squinting even further with his tired smile, and with the ever growing warmth of his body, the idea of staying was enticing.
As Barry pondered and wished things were different, Alan took a deep breath and, like a contagious disease, he yawned as well, stretching his arms above his head and popping a few knots of his spine. They made a nasty sound and Barry was about to say something about it, anything that his intoxicated mind could think of, when his friend slowly picked himself up enough to drop again closer, his head now using his gut as a pillow.
"...Not fair, Al. Now you're being a dick."
"All I'm saying is, I can make the couch for you, you know?" Barry laughed at his slurred speech.
"You couldn't walk me to the door if you wanted."
"Hey." He twisted, cheek now pressed against his stomach as he faced him. Barry's own cheeks hurt from smiling. Burned from the alcohol, too.
"C'mon." Barry tried to get up, hands making the impossible feat of supporting both his own and his best friend's weight while Alan did nothing at all to make this task easier, and he actually managed to separate their bodies for a few inches before gravity inevitably did its thing. With a tired groan Alan flopped down on top of him again, his face now using Barry's chest as a pillow. He shivered, before laughing. "Jesus, Al, you really can be a pain in the ass, you know that?"
"Hmm so I've heard." He gave him one last cocky smile before he made himself comfortable, sighed, and finally closed his eyes, clearly with no intention of getting up. Dick.
"You know you've got feather pillows, right, Al? The best money could buy."
"Money’s overrated."
"Yeah, right."
Despite the annoyance on his voice, Barry let himself sink into the mattress again, arm wrapped around Alan's shoulders in defeat. His chest burned with the pressure of him, neck burned too with his hot breathing landing directly on it. He tried running his hands through his hair, intended to annoy him, but that only resulted in Alan burying himself further on the bed of flowers that was his shirt. Nuzzling against the silk fabric and making him shiver again.
Barry could die right there, and he'd die the happiest man on Earth.
"Al..."
"You could always sleep here, too. Wouldn't be the first time." Barry laughed, weakly.
“Been a while since we last did that, Al…"
"So?"
In his intoxicated mind he tried coming up with an excuse, any reason for him not to say yes. It’s not the same he tried to think, weakly, his own resolve growing tired by the minute. Well, why the hell not? Another treacherous part of him replied. They’ve slept on the same bed countless times as kids, many times too as drunk young adults. What made this occasion any different?
The heat under his skin, quickly attributed to his many layers of cloth and the pressure of his best friend flushed against him, was a key difference, but before he could acknowledge a feeling he wasn’t unfamiliar with a particular name crossed his mind.
The thought of Alice coming back the morning after to find them passed out on their bed stirred something in his gut. Mirth, most likely. Either way, he held on tightly to that thought.
"Alice would kill me, Al. You know that."
Alan blinked a couple times, not looking at him as he took a long, slow breath.
"She's not here, Barry. Don’t know when she’ll come back."
Barry swallowed. She really wasn't, was she? Spending the night at a friend's house after a fight. Another in a long list of fights...
He shook his head, that thought sitting oddly in it. Taking a deep breath he lifted himself up with Alan pressed against him, this time actually managing to flip them over. Alan fell once again on the mattress, on his back this time, and he held him down to make sure he wouldn't pull any other stunt. Alan could be very persuasive when he wanted to. Insistent too. How could he say no to those dashing blue eyes and flushed cheeks? Barry smiled to himself, wondering if Alan was aware he was putting his charm on, or if he instinctively exuded it, like an animal.
"Gotta get going, Al."
"Don't wanna get up."
"You gave me your keys, remember?"
"..." It was funny how petulant he looked despite being a grown man, hand wrapped around one of the arm pinning him down, fingers digging on the thick layers, before dramatically rolling his eyes and blowing the air he was holding on his face. “Fine... Go away, then.”
Alan’s arm and head fell limp to the sides in pure defeat, and Barry looked at him for a few seconds before a laugh bubbled through his lips. His best friend was unbelievable, what the hell.
“You’re such a baby, you know that, Al?” A new wave of affection filled him to the brim as Alan grumbled under him, drunk offense diluting into drunk giddiness as a smug smile shined through his initial defeat, and Barry couldn’t help but pull him into what he’d hoped to be a farewell hug. “Oh, come here you lazy bastard.”
Alan snorted and protested, his arms quickly wrapping around his back as Barry fell onto him, burying his head on his shoulder, face looking away from him in a desperate attempt to breath. To keep his mind clear. To not forget the fact that he was supposed to get going soon thereafter. Reaaaaaaally soon now.
Barry took a breath trying to stay afloat, his elbows surrounding the other man’s body being the only thing stopping him from crushing Alan with his weight, but he didn’t seem to mind. His outstretched arms wrapped comfortably around him, one hand cupping his broad shoulder while the other slipped around his waist. It felt nice. It felt really nice. Taking a deeper, longer breath, Barry held it for a few seconds before finally letting it go, sinking further, every inch of his body pressed against the warmth of another.
His craned neck hurt.
That was supposed to be the end of it, but this close Barry could feel the heave of Alan’s chest flushed against his, breathing fluttering by his idle laughter, drunk off his ass, and it made him giddy. It made him feel weirdly nostalgic, too, something inside twisting with longing behind the happiness of seeing him relaxed like this, and finally the wicked warmth of their bodies combined betrayed his reason.
Raising his shoulders an inch he could feel his friend’s hands trying to keep him in place, before he got more comfortable, resting his head on the nook of his shoulders once again, facing him this time. Alan blinked slowly in response, his mouth fighting and losing against the coming smile.
“Thought I told you to fuck off.”
Barry grinned, drunk.
“Love you too, Al.”
Alan barked a laugh, the air between their faces growing impossibly and unbearably hot, and Barry wasn’t sure why he did what he did afterwards. It was definitely the alcohol, he’d come to rationalize the coming days, mixed maybe with the fact that Alan’s poor circulation made his skin perpetually cold to the touch —Mixed maybe with the overwhelming affection he felt towards his best friend— but he couldn’t help hiding his face on the hollow of his neck, nuzzling it a bit.
Alan hissed through his teeth devolving into a dry chuckle, and he felt one of his hands go from his shoulder to the back of his head and the other dig into the flesh of his back, pulling him closer. What a stupid thing to do, Barry thought at the back of his mind as his stubble tickled his nose. He couldn't possibly get any closer, could he?
"Hmm..." The low, joyful rumbling of his throat against his nose, against his lips, made him feel dizzier, if such a thing was even possible.
As he slowly fell to the mattress again they both rearranged themselves wordlessly, limbs fitting like an old, odd puzzle, although Barry could hardly pretend this echoed younger days. The hand combing his short hair and dopey smile against his temple, legs straddled, and tangled around each other… Barry took a deep breath that smelled of alcohol and sweat, and this close to his neck, it only made Alan shiver.
He kissed the only surface available, trying to convince himself it was only his cheek. A miscalculation making it end up lower, making his friend gasp, and tighten his grip on him.
Barry swallowed.
He wasn’t a complete idiot, despite his inebriated state, despite him trying to ignore the glaringly obvious. Saving the abysmal distances he could recognize the scene anywhere, and he was distinctly aware of the fact that the so-called platonic hug had ended a few thousand touches ago. He knew that. He also knew that if he were laying with a woman he wouldn’t hesitate so much.
His skin burned under his clothes, heat suddenly unbearable, and he didn’t know which thought was to blame, either the guilty ridden voice at the back of his mind wishing the person he was wrapped around were, in fact, a woman, or the idle wondering if it would be so bad to simply follow the scene to its natural conclusion as it was.
God, how he wanted to…
Pressing his forehead to Alan’s feverish skin he shut his eyes closed, too drunk to feel the wave of shame that would be washing over him otherwise. In the coming days he would have time to look back and think to himself what the hell were you thinking, what are you, a fucking fag? If he even thought about it at all. Barry was a highly skilled man in the art of looking the other way. Especially when it come to Alan.
His best friend, on the other hand, wasn’t.
That wondering thought made his stop on his tracks, despite having his nose and mouth already pressing on his skin without a hint of innocence. The deep, deep affection currently mixing with a feeling he was much more familiar with reminded him of two simple truths he was well acquainted with.
One: Al loved Alice.
Two: Al would do anything short to killing himself if he ever cheated on her.
Well, fuck Alice, was his immediate reaction to the first reminder alone. None of this would’ve happened if she were there that night, now, wouldn’t it?
For one small, vile second, his mind’s eyes conjured what, there was no point denying it, he knew would happen next; the rough feeling of his stubble against his lips, hot breathing against his own, and Alan looking at him like he was the only person in the whole wide world.
His heart ached.
But he could also see, clear as day, the way it would destroy his best friend once the adrenaline of the night and the alcohol and whatever drug he might or might not have consumed wore off. He could already feel his spiraling, his guilt, as foreboding and unavoidable as the hangover that would crack their heads open the coming day. He’d seen it all before.
And Barry couldn’t do that. Not to him.
Oblivious to his inner turmoil Alan took a deep breath and exhaled, their bodies pressed tightly and raising and falling together. Heartbeats reverberating like one. Fingers affectionately tracing throughout his back.
Licking his lips, Barry pulled his head away enough to look at him, bathing in the way he looked at him like he was the sun. Or something in that regard.
As he fixed his position in the mattress he could hear Alan taking a breath.
"...Goodnight, Al."
It hanged in the air for a second, as he blinked, and Barry finally pulled away. The man inside his grasp let the air he was holding as his arms fell down to his sides, confused.
“...’night, Barry.”
He walked out, not before halfheartedly reminding him of getting some water and ibuprofen for tomorrow, not before Alan halfheartedly lied that he would, and as he lost sight of his best friend he heard a deep sigh coming from his bedroom. Part of Barry wondered whether it was out of disappointment, or relief, but he quickly ushered those thoughts out of his head as he made his way to the door, alongside everything else that happened that night.
Merry Christmas to you little Remedy gremlins! Here’s your little festive treat🎄
In my head its such a beautiful scene of Barry feeling everything from extreme anger to absolute happiness, to deepest sadness, after finally seeing his best friend after 13 years of grieving him
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