Happy Birthday @straysinfiltrator! I am so sad to not be there this year celebrating with you. I hope this year ahead is filled with only the best for you. <3
Unfortunately I have not finished your birthday fic yet, so I will offer you this tumblr teaser instead.
---
It should have been a standard mission. When Blake muttered something to that effect out loud, Avon laughed humorously.
"You realize, Blake, that even your 'standard missions' are rife with mishaps."
The comment stung more than Blake expected. He thought himself inoculated against most of Avon's criticisms, finding himself generally amused rather than annoyed.
It's the truth of it that rankles you. Because you know he's right. No–right or not, now wasn't the time for wallowing in guilt.
"How are the teleport bracelets coming along?"
A flash of annoyance crossed the other man's face and for a split second, Blake wondered if Avon was going to throw the pieces on the ground and storm away. But after a moment of uncomfortably long eye contact, Avon resumed fidgeting with the components. "Just as they were when you last asked me. No, I stand corrected: three minutes further along than when you last asked me. Which was-–"
"Three minutes ago. I know."
The worst thing about it was that the entire crew had agreed to this mission with none of their usual bickering. Planet Zedlak was-–according to Orak–-the host to a rare plant that could be used to combat psychic assault. "It would make me feel safer," Cally had said, hesitantly, and even though Blake had seen the strange sort of friendship growing between her and Avon, he was still surprised when the other man volunteered to accompany Blake down to the planet's surface. Volunteered being perhaps not the most accurate of terms--Avon simply told Blake that he was going in a tone that practically invited Blake to argue with him, and so Blake had agreed in order to not give into what he wanted. By…giving into what Avon wanted. (Well, it made rather more sense to him in the moment…)
And it hadn't been unpleasant. The mission had started out quite well. While Zedlak was a harsh and unforgiving planet during the day, prone to temperature extremes, the night air felt cool and fresh. And the planet was possessed of a certain beauty that few planets still retained: the desert floor looked like a reflection of the starry sky; the blooms of the mariposa flowers that were their objective shimmered softly before them, flickering in the darkness.
It wasn't until they had harvested a kilo of the dense roots that they realized that Avon was having some sort of allergic reaction. And even then, it wasn't until they tried to contact the Liberator and failed that the panic started to set in.
Avon set the bracelets down abruptly and turned to cough wetly into his sleeve. Blake frowned.
"You sound worse. We should move away from the plants."
"A brilliant idea," Avon finally muttered, "if we had any idea what else is out there in the dark."
"We better hope it stays dark," Blake commented. "Or that desert sun could do some real harm."
Avon's jaw twitched, but he kept silent as he fidgeted with the bracelets, twisting them back and forth with more aggression than was probably necessary.
A shock of fluorescent light startled them both. As the harsh beam began sweeping back and forth over the field, Blake pushed Avon to the ground and dropped down next to him.
"We better hope it's not Servalan," Avon whispered, with an odd smile that looked more terrified than anything else. "Because she will do us real harm."
And enjoy every moment, Blake thought miserably, as he watched Avon bite the palm of his hand to stifle his coughing. "Avon, we need to get out of here. I'll take the bracelets. Keep low and follow me."
Avon looked like he wanted to argue, but either he lacked an alternate solution, or simply didn't have enough breath to explain one.
"Follow me," Blake repeated, and without looking to see if Avon complied, he began army-crawling into the thicket.