Well, here he was, drowning his sorrows again. This time it was in a platter of chalupas. Other men might have chosen to drown their sorrows in alcohol, but Vinnie Dakota preferred grease. Grease was warm. It filled him. He could almost pretend he was feeling the warmth of happiness restore his aching heart. Chalupas, cheese fries, burgers, egg rolls...ok, not egg rolls. Those were too painful to wallow in, thanks to that jerk making him feel like this in the first place. But other than that Dakota had tried it all this time around.

The short, wavy-haired man sighed, sagging further onto the arm supporting his head as he sat at the window bar of the Mexican restaurant he'd chosen for lunch, watching the people go by. Lots of partners out there. Lots of pairs. Lots of couples. It was like they said, cold turkeys were everywhere when you quit something, or in this case, when it quit you.

Stupid Cavendish. Normally Dakota would be here with the taller, older, admittedly thinner man, sharing his chalupas and filling himself with the joy food usually brought him. It wasn't just sorrow; Dakota ate all of his feelings. Dressing in tracksuits was not an irony lost on either man, and practically hearing Cavendish mock him with witty remarks over it only made Dakota miss him harder.

It had been two weeks since Balthazar Cavendish had gone rogue from Paranormal Investigation Group, leaving his partner behind in the process. Dakota didn't remember all of the details, but he was pretty sure he'd had his memory wiped before the Brit had booked it. He'd heard from their – his boss, Mr. Block about the whole 'rogue agent' thing, and the big blank space in his memory between trying to convince Cavendish to stay and then kind of made the pieces easy to put together. Two weeks made it officially clear that Cavendish wasn't changing his mind, as well. That or he was dead.

Dakota was bitter.

Thinking that Cavendish might have hurt himself was a worry that had kept him from sleeping. As well it was like Cavendish hadn't even remembered the hundred or so times his partner had literally thrown away his life to save his. A hundred timelines done over, that version of Dakota being written over and sent to some remote island in the middle of nowhere, just so the current Dakota could save Cavendish from disaster and keep him around.

When the secret had gotten out and Cavendish had seen this with his own eyes back during the Pistachio Uprising, the older gentleman had acted truly touched as well. He'd been grateful then, even going so far as to try and shield Dakota an extra amount in turn as the humans rebelled.

So what had happened?

Cavendish had thrown Dakota to the wayside anyway, that was what.

Somehow their new job had planted a seed in Cavendish's mind, and that seed had only grown, overtaking the man and making him forget himself, almost making him seem like an entirely different person.

Dakota wished it was a literal seed, like some evil pistachio monster sprout he could just rip out of the other and save him from.

Alas, no. Though the two had been saved from unemployment after getting fired from being time agents, effectively trapping them in the twenty-first century, their new job was no more glamorous than guarding nuts had been. In fact, it was even less so, since they were now intergalactic garbage boys. And that had caused Cavendish some severe frustration.

The absolute lack of recognition for saving the world from hostile plant takeover had truly bothered the man. Their reward of being fired had lit its own fire in the older man. Dakota had done his best to keep things light, console the other man and show his partner that it he didn't need to be center stage to take pride in a job well done, but the injustice had just been too much for Cavendish to handle.

And then he'd started talking about aliens.

Dakota felt another sigh coming on as he processed all the conversations they'd had leading up to where they were now. He'd been there to witness some of the alien encounters, but not all of them. Despite his bitterness as well, he still wanted the best for Cavendish. Maybe they weren't the ideal odd couple or anything, but they'd grown close over the years of assignment together, becoming best friends, and Dakota at least had thought neither one could live without the other anymore.

Perhaps that had been what had blinded him to any potential warning signs. Dakota hadn't been terribly crushed when every single undiscovered alien specimen, living or inanimate, that they tried to show their boss had escaped. Dakota believed that they'd seen so many already that they were sure to get it right one of these times.

Cavendish, not so much. He'd become obsessed, Dakota realized much too late, and all his breezy remarks and lighthearted brush-offs had only sent his partner spiraling, making him feel even less recognized, like he was making less progress.

Ok, so maybe Cavendish wasn't as much of a jerk as Dakota let on. Maybe Dakota hadn't read the situation as well as he could have. Give him a break, he wasn't a licensed psychotherapist or anything.

As well, love was a pain when it came to reading situations well. Everything was all rose-tinted, and if Dakota had had anyone to share the sentiment with, he would say that made it twice as hard considering he was already wearing orange-tinted glasses. It was clever, come on, he would say.

Instead he only regretted no one was here to hear his oh-so-snappy banter, as a quick glance around the proximity confirmed. He also regretted how he had handled supporting Cavendish after the most recent sighting the man had made, for that had been what tipped the man over the edge.

This one had been an outright abduction. And Dakota hadn't seen it. He'd been nearby, munching on a lunch he'd packed, but had not been facing the same way as a mere twenty feet away Cavendish had claimed to witness some poor sap being sucked up into a giant purple alien mothership, which he had then been unable to prove.

Dakota had not wanted to discredit his partner, and never outright said that it couldn't have happened, but at the same time, how could he claim it was the truth when he didn't know for sure? Considering the things they'd seen especially, yes it was possible...but it had been hot, Cavendish had been cranky, and any attempt to gather evidence had simply come up empty.

Dakota couldn't tell his boss the truth when he didn't know the truth. Cavendish had seen the lack of a voucher as betrayal. Dakota tried to say that if the other said he saw something it ought to be worth looking into by the better-equipped agents, but Mr. Block had cut him off. In Cavendish's state of mind, he probably thought Dakota ought to have tried harder. Maybe Cavendish was right. But Dakota had still thought calming down and taking a step back was in his partner's best interest.

It still might have been, but Dakota just wasn't knowledgeable enough on the topic to know how he ought to have persuaded Cavendish to do so. He'd only been able to follow in a mesmerized stupor of sorts as Cavendish lost it, leading the two of them into PIG's weapons facility and stealing a whole damn arsenal.

The persistent hesitant remarks from what Cavendish had seen as an escalating traitor had been the end. As soon as Dakota had gotten back home, it was just in time to get his mind wiped.

So here Dakota was.

He wished he'd been more open when the signs had started forming. Been more supportive and tried harder to remind Cavendish if their own bond, rather than only bringing it up when the man was about to walk out.

In these past couple of weeks, Dakota's own speech had been the only thing keeping him going. It was all that gave him hope. He and Cavendish had always been a team. They did fight, or at least squabble, half the time, but they always made up in the end. In fact, Dakota told himself he had to know that they'd be alright in the end because they'd seen their future. A future where the fighting had gotten to them so much that the tension had been snapped by a single egg roll, and yet even after all that, they had made up and erased the timeline where they'd broken up. Both of them had broken dozens of rules to get the other back, both gone through dozens of convoluted and elaborate plans to fix their relationship, and in the end they'd gotten a happy life together.

Dakota refused to let the nagging fear of how no longer being time agents could potentially change that future.

He also refused to compare the silliness of an egg roll being the root of a breakup to one so serious and ongoing as...all this.

He swallowed a mouthful of chalupa to stuff those troublesome thoughts down.

Cavendish was just hung up on justice. He'd make his way back here eventually, surely. He wanted recognition, Dakota could understand that. But why did he have to be the world's hero? Why did he have to push so hard for 'glamour'? What did he think joining a secret organization like the time agents or PIG was about in the first place?

And why couldn't he be happy just saving the world side-by-side with Dakota? A man who already acknowledged his efforts and loved the living daylight out of him despite what a stuffy, arrogant know-it-all Cavendish could be sometimes. Cavendish was also bright and handsome as could be, a proper dapper gentleman, though hilariously clumsy to go with it, and he had a tendency to lose common sense or focus on the wrong things. That just made him delightfully quirky. He was endearing when he was bashful or indignant, which only invited playful teasing. When he let loose he was plenty playful himself, which made such rarities a real treat. He was kind and sweet at the heart of it all, and when he was around it just never failed to bring a smile. Not to mention he was incredibly, admirably determined and full of righteous spirit. It always managed to motivate Dakota.

Hand touching an empty platter, Dakota registered that he was officially out of chalupas. One more sigh. "Oh, Cav..." he lamented, "I wish I would've told you how happy I was every day, just having you as my hero." He watched another pair of people walk by the window, holding hands. "Well, whaddya gonna do..."

Unsure how much this had really helped, Dakota pushed his tall chair out and dug into his wallet to throw a couple bucks on the counter as tip before heading out. Looking at the time on his phone, he was done being glum for now anyway. Rent was due tomorrow, and he was working alone these days. He couldn't afford to clock in late.