Lower Fens Gotta keep on keeping on

[Dallas Montana]

Dallas was so hairy that no one knew he'd taken his shirt off to combat the summer heat. Like a built-in modesty device, his curly chest hairs protected his slightly freckled tan skin as he worked on the roof of a broken-down food truck while a how-to video lay paused on his phone beside him.

A circular sander buzzed loudly, not that Dallas could hear it, giant headphones protecting his ears as well as a mask and sunglasses to protect his face. In truth, Dallas hadn't started out with the protective wear, causing him to yelp after the first five minutes of working because the metal shaving got into his eyes. Thankfully his darling roommate could help him flush his eyes later, and until then, Dallas just tried not to blink. Going to the doctor's was not an option, not because he couldn't afford it, but because Dallas always refused medical care.

A weirdo.

Anyways. Sanding.

Progress was finally being made on their hunk of metal dream mobile, the flooring inside finally strong enough to be decorated and fitted with equipment, Dallas was just putting the final touches on the roof. Spending every moment of free time working on the contraption, it was easy for Dallas to lose track of time, meaning it was little surprise that Dallas had spent nearly an entire Saturday working, his back, despite his pre-disposed genetics to tan deeply, was beginning to burn from the hours in the hot sun.

Last patch spot sanded, Dallas sat back on the roof and wiped his sweaty brow, picking up his discarded t-shirt to towel off his melting frame and yanking off the protective gear.

Finally. Some air.

[Hadley Hopper]

The sun beat down unrelenting through the paltry cloud shield overhead. Humidity did the heat no favors and the air was still and static. Perfect weather for collapsing onto the floor and drying out like a tomato destined for some toasted bread and herbs. Alas, it wasn't part of the siren's meticulous plans for the day to wither in the sunshine, so after peeling themselves off their computer chair they threw themselves into the shower, tipped cooler to combat the suffocating temperatures outside. It was too hot for pants, in Hadley's humble opinion, but going out to work on the food truck required heftier clothing than a short yellow sundress and some strappy sandals.

So with a pair of pink leggings underneath their breezy get-up, they adjusted their straps while applying a generous handful of sunscreen to their delicate pale skin, all while charging out towards the spot they and their roommate kept their pet project for safe keeping and working.

The distant sound of metallic rasping informed Hadley of Dallas's continuing efforts to ensure the roof was perfect, and perhaps it was a small mercy that the noise ceased the second their sandals passed the threshold. Not that there was a threshold to pass, but they sort of considered the nearby parking spots the boundary of their "lot".

Met with the sight of their tall, hairy, sweaty roommate towelling off with a shirt, they cursed their lack of foresight.

Should have brought lemonade. Or at least some water.

They were usually so good at bringing water to keep their skin hydrated!

“You've been busy,” they called up, squinting against the sun and really only seeing the fuzzy, exhausted outline of the fluffy cook. “What else are we fixing up today?”

[Dallas Montana]

Throwing his legs over the side of the truck, Dallas could only ignore the way the hot metal seared against the backs of his legs up to the line of his shorts. In one way it felt nice, an intense heat battling the feeling of strain on his muscles from squatting for so long. He rubbed his eyes, a bad move in an attempt to soothe the irritation. There was a small relief when they began to well with tears, giving his eyes a reprieve from the scratching. Perhaps this was how Hadley felt when they decorated themselves with makeup, dousing their eyelids in pretty colors Dallas assimilated with peacocks and good candy. He wondered if he looked good and if the shavings had given him a lovely smear of shadow, but it was too hard to see on his phone with all the sunlight beating down on them.

Hadley caught them off guard, despite the bright clothing, his blurry vision making out pink legs and something flowy; Hadley's reddish poofy mop gave them away, causing Dallas to smile.

“Hopefully nothing else, unless you know how to replace an ignition switch.” Giving the covered 350 Chevy 5.7L engine a tap with the side of his foot before sliding off to join his dear friend on the pavement. The beast weighed a little under 600 lbs, meaning the boys were trying everything in their power to revive the monster with tune-ups, fearing the price of paying someone to help them haul it off. “I... need to level the exterior counter, uh, but I can't see the level bubble and mount it at the same time-uh, but we can wait if you don't want to get dirty?” In truth, Dallas could probably manage it by propping it up, but the thought of seeing something as small as a level reader made his eyes burn.

Besides, group projects. Right?

[Hadley Hopper]

The cook's legs dangled over what must have been sizzling metal in this sunshine and while it concerned Hadley they did wonder if his thick fur would be enough of a protective cushion between skin and sun-scorched siding. It was one thing to be burned by the sun's rays beating down on you, but to also be broiled from the other side by a boiling hot surface didn't exactly seem like a fun time.

Really they knew it wasn't a fun time. Who hadn't been caught out in the intense light of the sun on a metal slide or fence or scaffold you definitely weren't supposed to be climbing but did anyway because it looked like fun and you were already really good at falling slowly?

Or was that last bit just Hadley?

And was it just Hadley, or did Dallas look a little red-eyed?

Frowning softly in even more concern than before, they folded their arms and tried to peer against the sun into Dallas's face, but it was kind of hard to see much from down here. Hm.

“I know how to change an ignition switch, sure,” they said, placing their hands delicately on their hips. Maybe it was good that they chose the dress today - that sun was making itself known to the Earth dwellers. Hot, insistently so. “You know I'm not afraid of a little dirt, Dallas. Uh, sorry to change the subject - are you crying or sweating?” The more they looked, the closer they got they could see Dallas's eyes were running over with moisture and it didn't feel like it was the heat that was the issue.

[Dallas Montana]

There was a divide forming in Dallas' mind. While part of Dallas was relieved and delighted to hear Hadley could replace the ignition switch so Dallas wouldn't have to search endless Reddit pages and YouTube videos to find a tutorial, the other half really wanted a break.

His eyes, for one, were screaming.

Not in his nature to be a buzzkill, the positive portion of Dallas held out and offered his roommate/business partner/best friend a stupid smile and a silly thumbs up.

“Oh, great! That's great!” Giving in to the burn in his eyes and electing to close them for a while. There was nothing weird about standing with your eyes closed, right?

Maybe it would be too bright to see.

Regarding Hadley's question, a tiny alarm bell signaled in Dallas' mind to play things cool, and using his favorite skill learned from his father, Dallas downplayed the pain.

“Probably both!” Admitted the man, bringing a hand up to rub at his eyes again, only making them water more. “Just got something in them, y'know how that goes--eyelashes....metal shavings... sweat.... things.” His voice trailed off quietly hoping his friend overlooked the whole metal part.

[Hadley Hopper]

Dallas seemed happy enough. Too happy? Sad? His eyes were so bloodshot, they noticed now they were standing closer to their roommate whose body acted as a shade for the siren. Questioned on what the whole watery business was about the taller man brought his hands to his eyes, rubbing them while speaking of metal where it shouldn't be.

Immediately, Hadley's hands moved to seize Dallas's, because what the fuck, Dallas???

“Okay, slow your roll there; don't rub everything into the back of your skull,” they tutted, alarmed. Gently, as soon as they were certain those hands weren't moving back up to screw possible metal sharp bits into delicate eyeballs, Hadley brought their own hands to their roommate's face, fingertips ghosting over their (hot, red, possibly sunburned) cheeks.

“Let me take a look - we don't want you losing an eye before we even open the truck...”

[Dallas Montana]

It seemed their plan to talk softly hadn't worked, and to Dallas' dismay, their roommate was worried.

In their roommate's defense, if this were happening to Hadley and not Dallas, he'd be seriously concerned too, but this was Dallas, and Dallas was always okay!

Still, he allowed the touching, tilting his head down a bit when their roommate held their face. Their hands felt almost cool against their hot skin, something Dallas could take brief comfort in.

“It's not so bad,” he insisted, squinting a bit as he tried to open his bloodshot eyes. By now, most of the shavings had found their way to Dallas' lashline and lacrimal caruncle from all the rubbing and furious watery blinking.

[Hadley Hopper]

Dallas's skin was scorching hot, almost as hot as they'd imagined the metal of the truck to be by then while the sun radiated down from right overhead. Maybe the two of them ought to stop with their renovations for now - surely the line cook could keel over at any minute from sun stroke. That was concerning enough without the thought of the silly boy working without goggles and getting metal shavings in his eyes. Hadley chewed the inside of their bottom lip as they tried to squint into the seas of blood on the surface of each eye. How had he managed to get them both??

“I... I think we have a magnet somewhere but...” On the fridge, probably, some clip bought to hold onto memos and grocery lists. “I think we need to get you to hospital, hon.”

Dallas always went a little bit green when they talked medical stuff, which was a little more frequently than they'd ever expected to talk medical stuff. They wondered if it would cancel out the strong red flush.

[Dallas Montana]

“Oh, cool, I love ma--no way.”

His response cut clear across his initial reaction regarding the magnet.

There was no way in heck Dallas would be visiting a hospital, or any place containing any type of medical personnel. If he had better control over the flood of tears and pain keeping him from seeing clearly, Dallas might've done a flip over the truck to escape but instead shifted to stand at full height. Peeling his eyes open in his best attempt to bluff while smiling at his roommate.

“No way, I'm totally good.”

[Hadley Hopper]

Everyone loved magnets.

Not the point, so it remained unsaid.

A slight crease of impatience wrinkled Hadley's forehead as Dallas freed himself from their gentle touch, which to the siren meant having to get tougher if the lanky chef refused to listen to reason.

“You've probably scraped your eyes to Hell, Dallas,” they huffed, reaching up to try to pull the other's face back down to eye level. “How are you supposed to work if you can't see?”

[Dallas Montana]

The wounded man might have been able to avoid the prying hands of their roommate if it were not for the fact he was struggling to keep them open. He'd been so focused on his work earlier and had been able to ignore the burning, but now that they were talking and drawing attention to it, Dallas could feel every minuscule piece of metallic debris.

Dallas's face fell once again, causing him to crane his neck to compensate for the height difference.

“I can see just fine,” trying to pat their roommate's hands. “Can we go inside? Everything's fine-just too warm.”

Dallas hoped a distraction would work!

[Hadley Hopper]

Getting indoors out of the scorching sun was probably the best bet for the pair of them. If nothing else it meant Hadley could grab a magnet and try to pull as much metal from their roommate's eyes as possible.

With a huff of determination they grabbed Dallas's hand and began pulling him back towards their apartment, feathers bristled under the skirt of their cute sundress.

They'd be walking too fast for Dallas to notice even if he could see, which Hadley really doubted given the state of his lashlines.

“Fine, but we should find you an eye doctor,” they muttered, pulling him into the shade of the apartment building.

[Dallas Montana]

Relief flushed through Dallas when their roommate took the distraction, pulling him along inside where he could finally find reprieve from the scorching sun.

He could tell he'd seen too much sun, the feeling of itchy skin like little spiders crawling around. There was a wonder how he'd spent almost every day of his childhood outdoors in the full view of the harsh sun, but he'd been much more tan then, that was long before he was forced indoors to study and work.

Dallas wondered how his cousin was doing, distracting himself as they made their way into the apartment. If he hadn't been overheating, Dallas might've wallowed over to the couch, dumping himself there to relax, but the scratchy old fibers sounded horrendous so Dallas made it as far as the living room before he melted onto the ground, sighing in relief at the cool wooden floors. He spread eagle, allowing his limbs to go limp.

“mmm'fine.” Dallas mumbled, enjoying the chill. Change the subject, Dallas. “Hey, I think we are getting pretty close to the final stretch. I was looking on Facebook market place and there are some vendors nearby willing to sell some equipment... should probably settle on a name.”

[Hadley Hopper]

Allowing Dallas to melt into the floorboards, the siren disappeared into the kitchen to grab a couple of different fridge magnets and just hipped they wouldn't do more harm than good. Hadley was no doctor and Dallas would see no doctor.

They worried that he wouldn't see much of anything any more if he refused to get his scratched up eyes examined. What if the shavings had travelled into his head? That seemed like a reasonable worry to a siren who didn't really know how eyes worked.

Catching only the end of Dallas's murmurings as they rejoined him on the floor, they tried to urge him into his side, fearing what might happen if they managed to pluck some metal free only to drop it squarely into his pupil. “We can worry about that after we fix your face,” they scolded gently, moving to pry Dallas's lower lid open.

[Dallas Montana]

“It would be good to look now or even invest-” Dallas continued to ramble, only pausing when jolted by the gentle touch of his roommate's hands.

Without protest, Dallas opened them, his eyelashes flapping in overtime at the sensation of something being lodged in his eyes.

“My face is fine, have you thought about a deep fryer? I sort of think we should set up a cambro slot station, y'know like the sandwich shop has? Would be good for prep.”