#it s like I feigned confidence and I could drive perfectly fine before but I took a little break without driving and boom

[kanekis-centipede]

.

[syntheticpoetry]

Teenage Satellites

Summary: This is a flashback sequence that describes Blaine’s night at the Sadie Hawkins dance with his friend (who I have named Skylar) and the assault at the end of the night.  

There is definitely some friendship fluff to start, but this does include the description of a violent crime at the end with homophobic slurs, so please do not read if you find that triggering or upsetting. 

This scene is an accompanying oneshot fic that goes along with a conversation between Kurt and Blaine in my And the World Spins Madly On universe.  You can read that here (which has links included for FFN and AO3 in the post as well).

AO3 Link for Teenage Satellites

“You don’t think it looks tacky?” Blaine adjusted the white rose boutonniere on his date’s lapel. “I didn’t want something that would stand out so much, but I saw it and fell in love with it and—”

“It’s fine, stop fidgeting with it!” Skylar laughed and slapped at Blaine’s hand blithely. “You’re going to laugh when you see the one I’ve gotten for you…” Blaine raised an eyebrow, took a step back from him, and watched as Skylar strode over to the fridge.

“Oh, it’s the same one,” Blaine grinned and shook his head in disbelief upon seeing the clear plastic container housing the delicate perennial. “Of course, I should have guessed as much.”

“Come here so I can fix it on,” Skylar motioned him over and set the container on the counter. Blaine traipsed the short distance between them and closed the gap. Though the general atmosphere of the evening was meant to be romantic for most couples, these two had no reservations about spending their time together as two very good friends.  The idea to go as a pair had been Blaine’s.  It took a little convincing on Skylar’s part, but he usually (always) eventually caved in to Blaine’s schemes and requests— their friendship had blossomed so intensely over the course of a few short months that they assumed the role of each other’s “best friend.” Really, they were each other’s only friend at all.

“Dashing as ever,” Skylar smiled as he fastened the boutonniere to Blaine’s lapel with steady hands.  Blaine looked down at those perfectly stilled hands— always in control, always so precise— and brushed his thumb over a small scratch.  “Jasmine was pretty playful this morning,” Skylar laughed in response to the gesture.

Blaine shook his head and smiled, mostly to himself, before calling out to Skylar’s feline companion, “Jasmine? Come here and give us a kiss goodbye, honey!”

Jasmine, perched atop the kitchen windowsill, poked her head between two panels of off-white venetian blinds upon hearing her name.  She was an odd cat, in the sense that she chirped and trilled more like a bird rather than meowed, and Blaine adored her that much more for it.  On cue, she chirped and kicked off of the window, springing through the blinds, and sent them clattering against the glass loudly.  Blaine guffawed while Skylar scolded her, but she paid no mind to her owner and chose to prance over to Blaine’s leg and rub herself against it.

“She’s going to get fur all over you!” Skylar screeched in alarm.

“Oh, she just wants a little attention,” Blaine spoke as though he was addressing a toddler, “Isn’t that right, baby girl?” He crouched down and scooped her up in his arms; to his left, Skylar let out a dramatic sigh.

“You’re incorrigible,” Skylar shook his head, but Blaine noticed the corners of his mouth twitch up into a smile.  Jasmine chirped loudly in his arms and he returned his attention back to her, rubbing her belly until her purring was the only sound to fill the room.  Blaine glimpsed at the clock on Skylar’s stove before setting Jasmine on the counter and brushing fur off of his jacket.

“Is your dad still driving—” he coughed and spit stray cat hair out of his mouth, sending Skylar into a fit of hysterics.

“I warned you!” he doubled over, clutching his stomach as if he just witnessed the single funniest sight in all his life.

Blaine rolled his eyes in response and spit away more cat hair that had plastered itself to his lips. After a few moments of regaining his composure, Skylar carelessly wiped away a few tears and spoke in a voice that clearly meant he was still trying to force his laughter down, “He should be, let me go ask him.”

Blaine nodded and Skylar disappeared into the living room.  He could hear their muffled conversation, but wasn’t able to make out any actual words that hinted towards what type of answer Skylar’s father was providing.  Jasmine rubbed up against Blaine’s leg again, trilling her affections and demanding to be picked up again. “Shhh, not now, baby girl. When we get back—Skylar will throw a fit if I look like a furry mess because of you.” She merely tilted her head in response and stared up at him with expectant, jade eyes.

“Okay, he said he’ll take us now if we’re ready to go,” Skylar strolled back into the room and Blaine didn’t miss the subtle hint of defeat adorning his features through the well placed smug smirk he’d adapted suddenly at the sight of Jasmine pining for Blaine’s continued attention. “Should just take her with us, I’m sure she’d love for you to show her some of your moves.”

Blaine smiled gently and wondered about pressing him for details on his half-hidden glum mood, but decided against it for now. “She’d be a hit, don’t you think?” Jasmine answered with a loud mew before rubbing her head against Blaine’s pant leg and collapsing onto his shoe.  The two of them did nothing to suppress their laughter until Skylar’s father appeared in the doorway with a stoic expression.

“You boys ready?” he asked gruffly.

“Indeed, we are, Mr. Young,” Blaine offered a placid smile and, out of the corner of his eye, took note of Skylar’s unease.  He was now even more overcome with the intense desire to know what exactly had taken place during their living room conversation to lead to Skylar’s distress.  Mr. Young plucked his keys from the key rack by the back door and left them in the kitchen.  Blaine took the opportunity to approach Skylar before they were meant to follow his father out to the car. “Everything okay? You seem… tense,” he placed a light hand on Skylar’s shoulder.

“Yeah, no I’m alright.  Let’s go, we don’t want to be late,” Skylar brushed past the question with a feigned smile that betrayed the obvious turmoil in his eyes. But Blaine knew better than to push him— if Skylar wanted to talk he would initiate the conversation— so he nodded politely and dropped his hand.  Skylar gave Blaine’s bicep a few gentle pats, a reassuring gesture they often offered each other, and lead the way out to his father’s SUV.  Blaine slid into the backseat while Skylar took the front passenger seat and immediately proceeded to fiddle with the radio. 

“Oh, wait go back! I love that song!” Blaine exclaimed while Skylar tapped the station seek button rapidly, very much like a certain character from a film about toys they both shared a guilty pleasure for. 

Skylar grinned and Blaine knew what the line was going to be before he even started, “Too late, I’m in the 40’s, gotta go around the horn!”

Blaine leaned forward and mock punched his arm playfully, paying no mind to the stiff posture Mr. Young had adapted ever since Blaine had gotten into the car. “Come on, seriously. Please go back?” he offered his best puppy dog eyes. Skylar rolled his eyes in response and hit the number three preset button. “Thank you,” Blaine replied in a singsong voice before joining in on the song.

“So get back, back, back to the disaster. My heart’s beating faster, holding on to feel the same,” Blaine turned his attention to the window, drumming along on his thighs absently with his hands.  The tension in the car remained the same for the duration of the ride to school and stayed well above Blaine’s head, as always.  No matter how amiable he was to Mr. Young, the older man still had never warmed up to Blaine.  Being the good-natured, naïve, boy that he was though, Blaine never took notice of his misgivings— his only sole concern was Skylar, impressing and befriending his father had never been part of his agenda. By the time they had finally pulled into the parking lot behind the school and gotten out of the car Skylar’s face looked ashy and he emitted tidal waves of anxiety.

“So you’ll pick us up at 11, dad?” Blaine watched cautiously and resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow when he heard Skylar’s voice tremble.

“Yeah,” his father replied flatly before driving away without sparing them so much as a second glance.

“…okay, seriously, what did I miss?” Blaine blurted out dumbly and Skylar shook his head.

“I just want to have a good time, let’s forget about it until later, okay?” Skylar adjusted his boutonniere, fumbling with it until it was really more crooked than straight.

“Forget about what?” Blaine smiled politely, despite the crumbling brick wall imprisoning his burning questions, and straightened it for him.

“Thank you,” Skylar whispered and Blaine couldn’t be sure if he meant for adjusting the accessory, dropping the subject, or both.  He nodded, nonetheless, and hooked his arm through Skylar’s to escort him through the doors. Without even entering the building the pair had six sets of eyes staring them down.  Blaine kept his head high, apprehension already steadily building, and his attention on two things only: where he was walking and Skylar.  His companion adapted the same contrived confidence as they made their way to the gymnasium. 

“Okay so far?” Blaine muttered out of the side of his mouth.  When he hadn’t received an answer he turned his head slightly to find that Skylar appeared to be completely enamoured by the decorations. Blaine stifled a laugh, “You were on the decorating committee, bit egotistical to admire your work to the point of ignoring me, don’t you think?”

“Shut up! They didn’t look this good during the day,” Skylar pouted, “I have a right to feel proud.  You know how hard I worked on this.”

“Yes, yes, I know.  I haven’t forgotten how you ignored my presence for days so you could paint stars and mythical creatures,” Blaine feigned exasperation and Skylar continued to pout at him. “Alright, alright! How about I get us something to drink while you bask in your own greatness?”

“Pink lemonade if they have it, I—”

“Hate fruit punch, yes I know,” Blaine grinned and unhooked his arm from Skylar’s. “Will you be here or are you going to walk around?”

“I’ll wait for you here. Be prepared to have me drag you around all night and show off everything else in the room that I worked on that you haven’t seen yet,” a sly smirk flashed across his features and Blaine was relieved to see that he was already starting to loosen up and enjoy himself.

“Okay,” he replied with an overdramatic sigh tethered to the word. In truth he was pleasantly willing to let Skylar parade around the room and show off— nothing made Blaine happier than seeing the vehement fervor behind his friend’s words as he discussed his interests and hobbies.  The passion in his eyes whenever the topic of painting and art came up was infectious and Blaine soaked up every second of it as often as possible. The decorations looked amazing and he knew Skylar should be, and was, rightly satisfied with the results. Blaine waltzed over to the refreshment table and contemplated the meager options presented: pretzels, Lay’s plain potato chips, fruit punch, (Skylar’s) pink lemonade, and bottles of water— not exactly a wide spread.  He filled up two small, clear plastic cups with pink lemonade and quickly turned to rejoin Skylar.  Unfortunately, in his haste, he walked straight into one of his, rather large, classmates and spilled both drinks.

Blaine tried to brush beads of lemonade off of his jacket sleeves, but he was completely soaked. “God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see you— ”

“Watch where you’re fucking going next—” Blaine averted his attention from his sleeves to the stranger who narrowed his eyes and stared down at Blaine with unmistakable disdain, “Oh. It’s you.” He chose to go a different route than Blaine and Skylar had, regarding outfit choice.  While the two of them were dressed to the nines, an unkempt, hideous red plaid button down shirt, half tucked into his faded blue jeans, hung loosely on his boxy frame.  He had a good twelve inches on Blaine, and at least sixty pounds.  His mousy brown hair was slicked back with too little gel, leaving static strands jutting out in every direction. 

“Me…?” Blaine tore his eyes away and started to kneel down to retrieve the empty cups, “I don’t think we’ve met befo—”

“What the hell are you doing? Stay away from my—” the boy immediately proceeded to cover his crotch with both of his hands and jumped back, placing a few feet between them.  Blaine suddenly understood.

“Seriously? Honey, why would you think I’d want any part of that at all?” Blaine straightened up, placed a hand on his hip and stared at his classmate incredulously.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that either,” he reached both hands out and shoved Blaine forcefully. He tried to stay balanced but staggered backwards, right into the refreshment table.  The glass bowls containing fruit punch and lemonade lurched violently, sloshing vibrant liquid onto the white, vinyl tablecloth.  Blaine slammed his palms onto the table to steady himself, leaving himself completely open to another potential attack.  

“I wasn’t looking at you like that,” he leaned back against the table, trying to put some more distance between himself and the other boy, but he might as well have been trying to reason with an angry bull.  With the flared nostrils and red in this boy’s eyes, the comparison didn’t feel too far off.  They had the attention of a few nearby students, but none of the teachers were anywhere in sight.  Blaine had just enough time to duck under the table to avoid a full-body charge. The blood pounding in his ears made the cheers and jeers from the other students sound smothered— he had no idea which of them they were even rooting for or against. 

“Mr. Walker! What do you think you’re doing?” he heard a stern voice approaching and maintained his position under the table.

“I was—”

“About to destroy school property! I think your night is over. Come with me, we’re going to call your parents to pick you up,” Blaine listened carefully and watched two pairs of legs retreat before crawling out of his safe haven.  His knees shook as he stood up, his hands sticky with spilt lemonade, but he didn’t hesitate in striding over to where he’d left Skylar.

“About time, I thought you got lost on the way back. Hey, where are the— Blaine, you’re shaking…”

Blaine turned his attention down to his trembling hands before quickly offering, “I sort of tripped and spilled them all over myself. I’m going to get cleaned up, okay?”

“Klutz,” Skylar shook his head as he spoke. “Okay, I’m going to head over to the bleachers, so meet me there?”

Blaine nodded curtly and sprinted out of the gym towards the bathroom across from the darkened cafeteria.  He knew he should have said something to Skylar about the incident, but he couldn’t bring himself to ruin his friend’s night when he was finally starting to have a little fun. 

‘Besides, that kid is gone anyways. Just try to enjoy the rest of your night. Keep Skylar happy, it’ll be okay,’ Blaine tried to rationalize with himself as he washed his hands, repeating the last line in his head as though it was a mantra.  As clean as he could get his hands, there was nothing he could do about the tremors; the entire incident not only left him upset, but infuriated.  It wasn’t fair; wasn’t he entitled to a stress-free, night of bliss as well? He clenched his hands, eyes shut tight, but his nerves continued to send earthquakes throughout his entire body.  ‘I should have pushed him back, why the hell did I hide? Why the hell do I keep hiding?’ The creak of the bathroom door to his left startled him and his eyes fluttered open to face the newcomer.  He recognized the student, a classmate from third period English, and was greeted with a nod of acknowledgment before the boy disappeared into a stall.  Blaine twisted the faucet shut and tore a rather large piece of paper towel away from the dispenser.  His hands were finally starting to steady out, but the remnants of an adrenaline rush reminded him of his anger while his body resumed normal functions.  He shook his head as he— literally— threw the dampened wad of paper with such force that it plastered itself to the wall with a wet smack! before sliding down into the waste bin.   Even his anger began to fade away while he walked back to the gymnasium— reduced to a low ebbing— so that by the time he reached Skylar again his smile was genuine and he felt hopeful about the remainder of their evening. 

“I got us some lemonade!” Skylar held out a cup to him with a broad grin and he took it with a grateful smile. “And I put a song request in.”

“What song might that be?” Blaine took a slow sip, pursing his lips when the much-too-sweet beverage overwhelmed his taste buds.

“It’s a surprise, you’ll know it when you hear it though,” and with that Skylar offered no other hints, leaving Blaine curious and, he couldn’t deny it, a little excited. Their taste in music was pretty similar, a pleasant discovery made during their early days of friendship, and they were always sharing new artists with each other.  They’d also developed a knack for comforting each other through song choices, filling in the unspoken gaps of tense conversations with interludes of musical reassurances.  As if saying to the other, “I’m here, I know you don’t really want to talk about it, but here’s something I think will help you feel better.” Lately they had been on a Keane kick and chose every opportunity they could to serenade each other to “Somewhere Only We Know.” Aloud, they agreed on their appreciation for such a beautifully composed song and left it at that; internally though, the underlying promise of a place, of a life, so much better than the one they currently lived in— that was their real reason for clinging to the words and constantly offering them to each other.  It voiced all of the desires they were too afraid to admit out loud, even to each other.  Desires that they feared would be compromised— made unlucky— if they ever spoke about how much they yearned for a change.  While Blaine figured it wasn’t much of a lively song for a school dance, he wouldn’t put it past Skylar to put in the request.  After all, there were bound to be some slow songs, right?

‘Oh god, what if he wants to slow dance with me?’ Blaine took another tentative sip— despite the nausea the sugary drink was causing him— to hide the tenseness in his jaw.  He’d wanted to make a statement, show that if he wanted to come here with a boy, as an actual romantic date, that he should be able to— but dancing with one, actually shoving it in everyone’s faces… that felt like a step too far.  Suddenly it wasn’t just the lemonade causing his stomach to rot; his anxiety was going to tear him apart from the inside out.  Skylar hummed along to the current song, oblivious to Blaine’s rampant afflictions, and bobbed his head rhythmically.  The song came to an end and Blaine bit the rim of his cup to keep himself from vomiting words and the contents of his stomach.  For a few seconds the only thing that Blaine could hear was the chattering of students throughout the room, reverberating against the high windowpanes, but Skylar beamed, recognizing the song, his song choice, instantly by the lack of immediate guitar rhythms.  At the first guitar downbeat Blaine returned the cup to his hand, his paranoia, his unease evaporating when Blink 182’s “Not Now” started up.

‘Of course, I should have seen that one coming. That’s all he’s been singing for days,’ he felt silly for panicking at all, especially over something as silly as a potential song choice.  He let out a breathy laugh, exuding the rest of his nerves, and set his very-much-still-full cup on one of the bleachers. 

“Time to dance now, let’s go!” Skylar exclaimed before brushing past him to the dance floor.  He turned, already rocking his hips in a slightly more experienced but still very teenage-esque fashion, and Blaine sashayed over to join him. They kept their hands to themselves, dissolved into a world of their own— one which they dominated— and worked on showing off to each other, as they’d done countless times in Skylar’s bedroom.  Blaine felt at ease finally. This dance was something they could conquer and live to tell the tale, again and again, come Monday morning. The reality of such a thought left Blaine dizzy, drunk off of the knowledge that they showed up together at a dance (at school), were actually dancing at said dance (at school), within close proximity to each other, and actually having a fairly decent time (at school.)  The little encounter at the refreshment table felt like a distant memory and the endorphins coursing through Blaine’s bloodstream offered him a moment of bravery.  He reached out and took Skylar’s hands in his own, the twinkle in his friend’s eyes let Blaine know he was ready for the next move—the move they practiced a thousand different times to a thousand different songs on sunny days, rainy days, I-don’t-want-to-talk-so-let’s-just-dance-until-I-feel-better-days— and he wouldn’t let his fears stop him now. 

He pulled Skylar into the “sweetheart position,” twisting one of his companion’s arms, spinning him around and holding him close to his body before lifting his arm over Skylar’s head and pulling him around with his right hand.  They spun together, untwisting their arms but still clasping each other’s hands tightly; Blaine released his right hand and spun Skylar around once, twice, three times more before the other boy collapsed into Blaine’s side, giggling wildly.  While it wasn’t an appropriate song to put their swing dancing skills to the test, neither of them seemed to mind.

They were on top of the world, their world, without a single care— nothing, and no one, could possibly hurt them now.

_________________________________________________________

Come here, please hold my hand for now

Help me, I’m scared

Please show me how to fight this

God has a master plan

And I guess

I am in his demand

The music had ended ten minutes ago and the gymnasium was now considerably much emptier than it had been four hours ago, but that didn’t stop the two of them from humming and dancing to their own melody.  Blaine held Skylar’s hand in his own, above their heads, and spun him once as they exited the back doors to the parking lot.  The smile plastered to Blaine’s face spoke volumes about the events of the night and Skylar’s mirrored his. 

“I’m really glad you convinced me to go,” Skylar unclasped his hand from Blaine’s and unbuttoned his blazer.  The October wind wasn’t enough for them— they were both overheated, sweat glistening on their foreheads in the pale moonlight.  “That’s the best time I’ve had in weeks.”

“Me too,” Blaine grazed the white rose on his lapel, miraculously still perfectly in place, with his thumb. “Hmm… were we supposed to go out to the front instead to be picked up? There’s no one here at all.”

Skylar gave the vacant parking lot a quick glance and frowned, “Huh, I guess we were. I figured they would have had everyone’s parents come back to the same spot they dropped us all off.” He shrugged, “Might as well just walk around the side now, it’s too stuffy inside.”

Blaine laughed in agreement, nodding his head.  “After you, my dear,” he half bowed and extended his arms in an extravagant gesture.  Skylar slapped Blaine’s bicep playfully and shook his head. “Such a gentleman you are, Blaine Anderson,” Skylar giggled as he passed by him.

“Well, you know me. I aim to please—”

“Where do you think you’re going, faggot?”

Blaine had been in very few fights growing up.  They had mainly been schoolyard scraps in elementary school, but even ten year olds had the potential to be vicious.  One fight in particular came to mind though.  He couldn’t even remember how it had started— one minute he’d been waiting his turn in line for double dutch and the next he’d discovered all the air had left his lungs and a classmate’s fist buried deep into his stomach.  He couldn’t remember ever feeling so dizzy and winded before… until now.  This Walker kid’s words left him lightheaded and breathless, much like that punch he’d taken so many years ago.

“Skylar, run!” he managed to gasp out once the rest of his senses caught up to him.  Skylar gave Blaine a look that said all that he couldn’t: Like hell I’m going to leave you here alone.

Please save me, this time I cannot run

And I’ll see you when this is done

And now I have come to realize

That you are the one who’s left behind

“Nobody’s going anywhere,” Walker snapped his fingers and two of his friends came to join him from the shadows beside the school.  “You didn’t really think I was going to let you get away with screwing up my night, did you? You got me kicked out— why the fuck should you have been allowed to stay?”

“Blaine, what’s he talking about?” Skylar reached behind himself and gently closed his hand around Blaine’s wrist.  It was a harmless gesture, more of a fearful reaction on Skylar’s part, but it seemed to brew thunderstorms in Walker’s eyes.

“He— there was an accident inside— I didn’t mean it, I walked into him and—” Blaine stammered pathetically, keeping his eyes fixed on the three boys before them. 

“Oh, was this your date? They let you disgusting things in together?” he spat angrily, his companions’ brows furrowing in equal disdain.

“So both of them then, Logan?” the boy to Walker’s— well, Logan’s— right asked, brandishing a tire iron from thin air.

‘Where the hell did that come from?’ Blaine stared at the heavy object and his heart thumped a little harder against his ribcage. He knew they should run, knew that there was no good possible outcome from staying, but he was paralyzed.  Skylar’s hand felt like an anchor on his wrist— neither of them knew what to do.

“Wait, wait, Logan wait.  Think about this— you don’t want to— you could get expelled, things will just end up worse from here. You can walk away and—” Blaine knew it was useless trying to reason with him, with any of them.  He could see the hatred rising off of them like smoke, blinding them from any sort of logical approach.  There was only one way this was going to end.

“Both of them,” Logan growled menacingly and this seemed to do the trick in forcing Blaine into flight mode.  He twisted his wrist until he was able to grasp Skylar’s and tugged on it, signaling him to run with him.  They had barely been able to take two steps before the third attacker was there in front of him.  Before Blaine knew what was happening he found himself on the ground, his hand trying to grasp at asphalt while the absence of Skylar’s wrist slowly sank in.

“No! Stop! S-Stop!”

Upon hearing Skylar’s screams, Blaine writhed on the pavement, trying to angle his head to find him.  For the second time within the time span of five minutes, he found himself completely winded.  But whatever had hit him felt nothing like human flesh—oh, no— they were putting that tire iron to good use.  He curled into himself, trying to hug away the sharp pain in his stomach.  He was aware of the sound of his own wheezy, rattling breath, taking in what felt like far too little oxygen, but couldn’t even begin to force himself to focus on anything else.  His fetal position left everything else exposed though and he heard Logan’s—or someone’s— grunting, muddled with Skylar’s cries, before the tire iron made itself a new home and nestled itself into Blaine’s back.

Please stay until I’m gone

I’m here hold on to me

I’m right here

Waiting

He yelped loudly and had no real time to recover— whoever was hitting him grew more and more brutal by the second, giving him less and less time to catch his breath between beatings.  He began to lose count of how many times he’d been hit; the only thing he knew for sure was that he had never been in so much agony before. His skin felt both numb and prickly. He couldn’t tell what was broken; he simply knew that at least one of his bones had to be.  Out of the corner of his eye he spotted his white rose boutonniere— inches away— covered in flecks of red. 

‘Is that my blood?’

All of his pain melded together, making it impossible to pinpoint where he was specifically injured.  After seeing the rose though, he could actually feel the blood leaving his body in steady streams.  His back was sticky; something dripped down his forehead and into his eyes; his fists were clenched, nails biting crescent moons into his palms; everything just hurt. He couldn’t hear Skylar anymore.  The world around him was beginning to sound like a muffled cocktail of vicious grunts, breaking bones, and his own ragged breath.

‘Help. God, someone, please help us.’

“Hey, what are you guys doing over there!”

And then suddenly, it all stopped. All of the muffled yelling and metal colliding with skin.

‘Who are you?’

Metal clanged against pavement, just beside his head.  The sound sent shockwaves through his brain, his poor throbbing brain.

‘Is Skylar okay?’

Footsteps retreated.

‘Make sure Skylar’s okay.’

And more footsteps approached.

‘Goddamnit, fucking check on Skylar! Move! Move…’

“Jesus… Can you hear me? Hey, kid, it’s going to be okay,”

‘When did I close my eyes?’

“Kid, can you hear me?”

He tried to speak, he really did.  Tried to ask about Skylar, tried to ask who was there, but all that he could manage was a soft whine.  It seemed to be all the affirmation that this stranger needed though.

“Yeah, he’s alive! What about the one by you, Jesse?”

Blaine descended into darkness before he could hear the answer.

I see a light, it feels good

And I’ll come back soon just like you would

It’s useless, my name has made the list

And I wish

I gave you one last kiss

[thinkingaboutyoungroyals]

Who Waits For Love (Chapter 4)

Summary: T.J. Kippen lost his chance to tell Cyrus Goodman how he felt when they were in the 8th grade. Now, they are in their junior year of high school and Cyrus is on his 3rd relationship. Is it time to give up… or continue to wait for love?

A/N: Apologies that this was delayed! I’ve been very busy the last couple of days and there were some issues at home that needed my attention. Hopefully, the next chapter won’t take quite as long for me to finish!

Collar straight? Check.

Hair perfectly brushed? Check.

Dark circles under his eyes almost gone thanks to the under-eye gel patch Andi had recommended? Check.

Cyrus nodded in satisfaction at his reflection in the mirror. After four days of just lounging around at home, he was finally ready to go back to school.

Four days of on and off of crying. Four days of quiet reflection about himself and his failed relationship. Four days of realizing that his cheating ex-boyfriend wasn’t worth his tears anymore.

His eyes strayed to the framed photos on his dresser and felt himself break into a smile. There was one of him with each of his best friends: Andi, Buffy, Jonah, and, of course, T.J. They were all so sweet and patient with him in the last few days, always checking in on him, even if he ignored their calls and texts in favor of being miserable. He loved them all so much.

Taking a deep breath, he gave his reflection one last nod before grabbing his bag and leaving his bedroom.

His mother had milk and cereal, a plate of toast, and orange juice ready for him in the dining room.

“Good morning, honey,” she greeted, looking up from the morning paper.

Cyrus slid into a seat and poured himself a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. “Morning, mom. Did Todd leave already?”

“Yes, he’s booked pretty solid all morning so he figured it was best to get there early.”

Cyrus hummed as he took the first bite of his cereal, relishing the sweetness of the cinnamon and sugar. Cinnamon Toast Crunch never got old and was his absolute favorite! He wasn’t going to eat too much, though. T.J. said he might bring muffins.

“Are you sure you’re feeling better?” his mom asked.

Cyrus nodded, not taking his eyes off his bowl. “I can’t stay away from school forever just because he’s there.”

“Well, I’m proud of you.”

He smiled at her. “Thanks, mom. I’m proud of me, too. Besides, all my friends are there. They won’t let anything happen.”

He went back to his cereal, finishing it quickly and downing a glass of orange juice.

“I should start heading out,” he said, grabbing his bag and placing it around his body. “T.J. should be here soon.”

“He’s a sweet boy.”

Cyrus found his lips quirking into a smile. “Yeah, he is.”

“And he really cares about you.”

At that, Cyrus froze in his tracks. He knew that fond tone in his mother’s voice.

“And all four of us really like him,” she continued with a pointed look at him.

Cyrus chuckled. “T.J. is well-aware about that. He never fails to brag about it.”

His mother casually flipped the page of her newspaper. “He’s an ideal future son-in-law.”

“Mom.” He tried to ignore the blush that crept up to his cheeks. “He’s one of my best friends. I can’t…”

She feigned ignorance. “I didn’t say anything,” she said, shrugging. “I know not to interfere in your personal romantic relationships.”

And Cyrus was thankful for that. He, himself, had been toning down his own meddling in other people’s lives over the years (unless it was required). And he appreciated his parents not meddling in his own, especially when it came to his dating life.

Ever since he confided in his mother about his little crush on T.J. back in the 8th grade, she wasted no time telling his other parents and, in turn, all four took it upon themselves to see if the blonde was “worthy of their baby boy’s heart.”

And T.J…. Sweet and polite T.J. unknowingly gained all their favor. So, now, all four were just waiting for Cyrus to make a move… which he was not planning on doing anytime soon. Not if he wanted to keep T.J. in his life.

Thankfully, no one else knew about that little secret of his and he preferred that it stayed that way.

After the failure of his second relationship and now his third, he was convinced that his love life was cursed. And he didn’t want to lose T.J. because of that.

Bidding his mother goodbye with a kiss to her cheek, he quickly headed out to the front porch to wait for his friend.

Cyrus didn’t have to wait too long. He spotted the gray sedan turning the corner, driving down the street, and stopping in front of the house. He made his way down the steps, giving T.J. a wave as he did so. He got in the car and strapped himself in.

“Morning, basketball guy.”

“Morning, Underdog.” The blonde handed him a Ziploc bag of muffins. “Banana nut muffins.”

“Not my favorite but still acceptable,” Cyrus stated as he opened the bag and took out a muffin.

He bit into the pastry, letting out happy noises when the sweet taste of banana and cinnamon met his taste buds.

T.J.’s mom was a pediatric nurse and she often baked treats for the kids in her ward. She would give extras to T.J. so obviously, this meant Cyrus got some too and he loved everything she made.

T.J. laughed. “I gave you two more than the usual last time! Don’t tell me you finished it all?”

Cyrus glared, exaggeratedly. “Don’t tell me how quickly I can consume my muffins!”

“You should have paced yourself!”

“How can I when your mother’s muffins are the best things she has ever made in this world?!”

“Hey! What about me?”

Cyrus took another bite out of his muffin to avoid answering.

“Underdog!”

He swallowed before grinning at T.J. “You’re the second best thing she’s made in this world.”

T.J. huffed. “That’s cold, Goodman. Really cold.”

His offended tone made Cyrus laugh. He felt immensely lighter and more determined to face the day without breaking.

The entire drive to school was pleasant. He cheerily talked about the British baking show he binged the night before and playfully swapped the song playing on the stereo when it finished, making T.J. whine about having to listen to Demi Lovato for hundreth time.

But, when they arrived at school, Cyrus felt the dread pool in his stomach again. Seeing other students entering the building like normal, he wondered if everyone at school knew already. Lance was pretty popular. If he had a new girlfriend, they would know. And Cyrus would be a social pariah. The gay kid who got cheated on and replaced by a girl. Typical.

It felt like people were staring at him when he and T.J. stepped into the front doors, even though it was probably just his paranoia.

“Are you gonna be okay when…. You know…. When you see him?”

Cyrus felt himself stiffen, a lump forming in his throat. Was he prepared to see Lance again? He didn’t know. But, he would be damned if he let it stop him.

He rolled his shoulders back, loosening them up. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. I’ll see you at lunch?”

T.J. smiled, complete faith and trust in him. “Yeah.”

They parted and Cyrus headed to his locker. He noticed a few students eyeing him but he held his head up high. No one whispered or stopped him to ask about it, thankfully. He reached his locker with no incident and proceeded to the things he needed for the day.

“Cyrus.”

His blood went cold at the familiar voice and the lump was back in his throat. He painfully swallowed it as he forced the inevitable tears that threatened to fall back in his eyes. He wasn’t going to cry. Not in front of him.

Stuffing his last notebook into his bag, he closed his locker and turned around.

“W-What do you want, Lance?” he asked, cursing his voice for shaking.

His cheating ex-boyfriend stood there in front of him and to Cyrus’ surprise, he actually looked guilty and didn’t look so high and mighty like he always was.

“I… just want to talk to you,” he said.

Cyrus had always admired Lance’s confidence but there was no trace of it now. And, he felt a little mean but it did satisfy him to see that the Lacrosse player’s lip was bruised.

Lance took a step closer to him but Cyrus stepped back.

“What’s there to talk about? You cheated on me and I broke up with you. That’s that. You can go back to your girl now.”

“I’m sorry,” Lance said, softly as he looked down at the floor. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, it just… happened.”

Clenching his fists, Cyrus made his face as stony as possible. “And do you think your sorry will change anything between us? You already hurt me, Lance. So, just leave me alone.”

“Cyrus, babe-.”

“Don’t. Call. Me. That. We’re through.”

Gathering his dignity, Cyrus quickly walked past him, making sure their shoulders didn’t brush or anything. Whether Lance was following him, he didn’t care. He didn’t want to look at him any longer than necessary.

“Cyrus! Hey!”

A hand landed on his shoulder, making him jump twenty feet in the air.

“Jesus! Jonah! Don’t scare me like that!”

His friend took his hand back, raising both of them in defense. “Sorry, sorry.” He squinted at him. “You okay?”

Cyrus sighed as the other fell into step beside him. “Just ran into Lance. Thought I could face him without wanting to throw a punch.”

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Punch him.”

Cyrus snorted. “No.”

“You should have. I mean, I would have and so would Buffy and Marty. Andi’s not that violent but she’d probably have words with him. But, T.J. already got a punch in so lucky him.”

Cyrus chuckled. “Classic T.J. Always defending my honor.”

“Yeah, he was really worried about you, you know. We all were.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

Jonah beamed. “We can be your bodyguards too until this whole thing blows over.”

Cyrus made a face. “I don’t need bodyguards. I’m not that fragile.”

“We know but what if Lance-.”

“I know Lance is a jerk and he broke my heart but he wouldn’t hurt me… not physically, anyway.” He took a deep breath to calm his anxious heart. “I appreciate the concern, Jonah, but I’ll be fine, okay? I just… want things to go back to normal.”

Jonah still looked worried. “You sure you’re okay?”

They finally made it to homeroom and took their respective seats.

“Jonah, look at me.” Cyrus beamed. “Do I look like I’m not okay?”

Jonah frowned. “I guess you look okay, but… you know we’re here for you, right?”

“Of course.”

Cyrus reached over and patted his arm before taking out his Math notebook to try and occupy his mind by double-checking his homework.

School hadn’t even started but he was already feeling weary. He wanted the day to be over already so he could go home and bury himself under his covers.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he took out to see a text from T.J. – it was a photo of his doodle of what appeared to be a penguin holding hands with a seal. It was cute.

Cyrus smiled, the anxiety in his chest dissipating.

……............

The morning dragged on and on. Soon, it was lunchtime. 

Andi and Buffy were waiting for him outside the cafeteria, greeting him with hugs before they all went in to stand in line for food. Although the two girls were treating him like normal, he could still spot the worried glances they would throw him when they thought he wasn’t looking.

He would have to get used to it for a while but it was nice knowing that his friends cared about him.

When they got to their table, Jonah and Marty were already there. Cyrus looked around as he got settled.

“Where’s T.J.?” he asked the other two boys. “He’s normally here by now.”

Jonah pointed. “There he is.”

T.J. was walking towards them, waving in greeting. “Hey, guys. So, we got a new kid in class. Mr. Singh asked me to show him around and everything. Do you guys mind if he has lunch with us?”

“That’s fine by me,” said Buffy.

“Me too,” added Andi.

Cyrus and the other two boys gave their consent.

“Great! He’s in line getting food. Be right back!”

Cyrus watched him leave and smile. For all his tough exterior, T.J. was always a huge softie.

He went back to his pasta, stirring the noodles around in the sauce before adding cheese from the little packet. His friends made small talk about their classes and he chimed in his thoughts in between bites.

Moments later, T.J. returned with a tray in his hand and an unfamiliar boy behind him – the new kid.

He was tall, about T.J.’s height, with curly brown hair and thick eyebrows. He had a calm and cool aura about him, almost a little cocky, which was unusual for a new kid. They were usually nervous on their first day of school. At least, Cyrus knew that he would be, personally.

“Hey, guys. This is Aidan,” T.J. introduced, placing his tray in his spot next to Cyrus. “Aidan, these are my friends. This is Cyrus and Jonah. And over there are Buffy, Andi, and Marty.”

They each greeted the new guy with a wave.

“Nice to meet you, guys,” Aidan replied with a smile. “Thanks for letting me sit.”

Cyrus quirked an eyebrow. He had hints of a dimple. Not quite as deep as Jonah’s but they were there.

Andi scooted closer to Buffy so Aidan could sit next to her and across from Cyrus.

“So, Aidan,” Buffy began. “Where are you from?”

“Florida,” Aidan replied as he unwrapped his sandwich. “My dad got a new job here so we had to move.”

“That sucks, bro,” Jonah said. “Shadyside must be boring compared to Florida.”

Aidan shrugged. “Eh, it’s not so bad.” To Cyrus’ curiosity, he flashed a look in his direction and grinned. “The people are nice.”

Cyrus felt his eye twitch. The look wasn’t directed at him but to the person next to him: T.J. From the corner of his eye, he could see the blonde practically inhaling his chicken nuggets, oblivious to the eyeing of the new addition to their table.

“You play any sports?” Marty asked.

“Yeah, I was in the lacrosse team back home. I was thinking about joining the team here. Are they any good?”

The mention of the sport froze Cyrus in place, his fingers tightening around his fork. Flashes of himself attending games entered his mind and he suddenly lost his appetite. 

The mood dropped around the table. Marty coughed and Jonah suddenly shoved an entire chicken nugget into his mouth. T.J. leaned closer to Cyrus’ side, their shoulders touching. 

“Ugh, don’t speak to us about the lacrosse team,” Buffy groaned, scrunching her face in disgust. “It’s a forbidden topic.”

Aidan raised a brow. “Are they that bad?”

“Let’s just say we’d rather not talk about them,” Andi replied, calmly. “But, we have a lot of other great teams!”

“Yeah, I’m in track,” Marty supplied.

“Track and basketball,” Buffy said.

“Baseball,” added Jonah.

“I play basketball,” said T.J., now paying attention since the conversation switched to sports.

“Cool, cool.”

“I played basketball freshman year but I wanted to concentrate on my art so I stopped,” said Andi. “Besides, my girlfriend was graduating last year so I wanted to spend more time with her.”

“Oh, you have a girlfriend?”

Andi flashed him a look. “I hope that’s not a problem.”

Aidan shook his head and smiled. “No, not at all.” He turned to Cyrus. “What about you…Darius, right?”

It took T.J. squeezing his knee to tear Cyrus out of his stupor. “Um, Cyrus, actually… And, no, I’m not athletic so… no sports for me! I’m in the Film Club, though.”

“Cyrus’ short films are amazing!” T.J. said, grinning. “He made this cool documentary about dinosaur fossils found in Shadyside last year.”

Cyrus blushed and flashed his friend a grateful smile.

“Cool. Maybe I should join the basketball team, then. I’m pretty decent. Think you can hook me up, Teej?”

Cyrus’ eye twitched again.

Meanwhile, T.J.’s eyes lit up. “I can talk to Coach for you! Have you played on a team before?”

And the rest of the conversation turned to basketball, with Buffy, Marty, Jonah and even Andi chiming in. Meanwhile, although he had attended many basketball games and had gained a pretty good bulk of knowledge about the sport, Cyrus still found himself staying silent the entire time.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to contribute to the conversation. And Aidan seemed nice. The others looked at ease with him, especially T.J. who appeared to have a lot in common with him, including a fondness for hoodies. It was the first time he had seen his blonde friend so enthusiastic when interacting with someone new. He was normally not one to let his guard down. And Aidan kept his attention on T.J., only briefly sparing whoever was talking a brief look but his gaze always flew back to T.J.

It was weird!

For some reason, every time Cyrus opened his mouth to pitch in, no words came out. It felt like he lost all his energy for the day. And his eye kept twitching!

Suffice to say, he finished his food before everyone else and ended up just sitting and twiddling his thumbs as he waited until everyone else finished eating.

“Oh, T.J., will you show me where the library is?” Aidan asked.

“Sure. You done?”

“Yep.”

Cyrus tried not to show his disappointment when T.J. stood up and picked up his tray.

“We’re gonna go ahead.” He looked down at Cyrus. “See you in History?”

“You know it!” the other boy piped with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

With one last word of thanks to them for welcoming him, Aidan followed T.J. out of the cafeteria.

“He seems nice,” Andi commented.

“Yeah, he’s like T.J. 2.0 without the initial jerkiness from middle school,” added Buffy, chuckling.

Jonah hummed. “Never seen T.J. talk that much to someone new in one sitting before.”

So, they made the same observation as Cyrus. It must have really stood out.

All of a sudden, his stomach flipped, unpleasantly. He placed a hand over his belly as he glared at the empty bowl on his tray, wondering if the pasta had been bad but he just didn’t notice.

“Cyrus? You okay?” Andi asked.

His head snapped up. “Yeah, I’m fine. Must have been bad pasta.”

Worried eyes all paid attention to him now. They didn’t really help the weird nausea he was feeling.

“Do you need to go to the nurse?” Buffy asked.

Cyrus shook his head. “I’ll be fine. Probably just indigestion, I’ll grab some ginger ale from the vending machine. Anyway, the bell’s about to ring. Let’s start heading out.”

Standing up, he picked up his tray and waited for his friends to follow suit.

The ginger ale did help settle his stomach but the odd feeling of ennui never left him.

.............

The rest of the day was uneventful. Cyrus went to all his classes, took down notes, and managed to dodge Lance twice. (Thankfully, they didn’t share any classes, a fact that he now celebrated.)

By the time the last bell rang, he was exhausted and ready to go home.

After bidding Andi and Buffy goodbye (they had Art Club and Track practice, respectively), he went to meet T.J. at the blonde’s locker so they could head home together.

Up ahead, T.J. was already there… with Aidan.

Cyrus stopped in his tracks, watching as a laughing Aidan playfully punched T.J. on the shoulder before walking off. T.J. shook his head in amusement as he turned back to his locker, but then caught sight of Cyrus idling by.

Putting on a smile, he bounded over to his blonde friend, greeting him.

“I’m so ready to go home and forget about today,” he stated, forlornly, as they made their way out of the building.

T.J. flashed him a sympathetic look. “Bad day?”

Cyrus sighed. “Kind of. I thought I’d be okay but… I don’t know. Today was off.”

An arm wrapped itself around his shoulders, pulling him into T.J.’s side. “Sorry to hear that, Underdog.”

Cyrus shrugged. “It’s fine.” He looked up at the taller boy (how come Cyrus had barely grown and T.J. just turned into a giant?!). “Enough about me. How was your day?”

As they reached the car, T.J. dropped his arm from his shoulders.

“Well, I gave Aidan a tour of the school,” he said, unlocking the doors.

Cyrus already knew that. He slid into the car and buckled himself in.

“How did he like Grant?” he asked as T.J. started the car.

“He said his old school back in Florida was bigger.” The blonde pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street. “But he likes the coziness of Grant. Said he’s likely to remember names now.” He chuckled. “Apparently, he sucks at names like I do. Good thing my name is easy for him to remember or he would have been stuck calling me ‘man’ or ‘dude’ until the end of the semester.”

His tone was fond and the smile on his face was an indication that he definitely liked this guy. And that was huge for T.J. He wasn’t one to make friends very easily, unlike Cyrus.

This was huge. Cyrus should be happy for him.

He cleared his throat. “So, you really like him, huh?” he asked, casually.

T.J. hummed. “He seems cool. I’d hang out with him.”

Cyrus’ chest twitched and he scratched at it while clearing his throat. “He’s handsome too,” he noted, absentmindedly.

“Hmm… yeah, he is.” T.J. flashed him a quick grin. “Why? You interested in dating him?”

He didn’t know why but he felt a burst of irritation at that assumption. “What? No!”

Yes, Aidan was attractive and fit his type (athletic, great hair, nice smile). And Cyrus was not going to deny that, but that didn’t mean he was interested!

“I mean… he is handsome, like you said. And he has nice hair,” T.J. continued, pleasantly.

Cyrus’ fist clenched on their own. “T.J., stop.”

“And his dimples are cute! You like dimples, right?”

“Stop the car.”

Cyrus was surprised at the coldness of his own voice. His heart was beating painfully fast and his entire body was shaking.

“What?” asked a confused T.J.

“Stop the car, T.J.”

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Stop the car!”

He couldn’t look at the blonde in the eye as the car pulled to a stop by the sidewalk.

“Cyrus, what-.”

He wasted no time grabbing his bag, opening the door, and getting out.

“Cyrus! What are you doing?!” T.J. exasperatedly called out.

But, Cyrus had begun to walk away, fuming on the inside. He didn’t know why but he was so irritated with T.J. implying that he wanted to go out with Aidan. He didn’t like Aidan like that!

Meanwhile, he tried to ignore the gray sedan slowly following him. “Underdog! Get back in the car!”

“No!” Cyrus stubbornly replied, speeding his steps. “I’m walking home!”

“It’s a long way! Come on! What did I do?!”

He clenched his jaw, refusing to reply.

“Cyrus, please.” T.J. was pleading now. “Get back in the car. We can talk about this. Just tell me what I did. Please.”

Cyrus slowed and then stopped in his tracks. What was he doing? Why was he so angry and upset? What was wrong with him?

The car stopped next to him. “Underdog, come back. Please.”

Cyrus turned to look at T.J. through the open window. “Is that what you think of me?” he said, his voice breaking.

T.J.’s brows were scrunched in confusion. “I don’t understand. Cy, please. Get back in the car? It’s a long way home. And your shoes aren’t made for long-distance walking.”

Sighing because he knew the blonde was right, Cyrus pulled the passenger door open and got in. Still frowning, he buckled himself.

T.J. began to drive back into traffic.

The silence was overpowering as Cyrus tried to put into words his sudden careless actions and his confusing feelings.

“I’m sorry, you know,” T.J. whispered that he wouldn’t have heard if he wasn’t paying attention. “Whatever it is I did, I’m sorry.”

Cyrus’ heart softened. “I… No, Teej, I’m sorry. I… I don’t know what came over me.”

The car slowed down again and T.J. pulled up to the sidewalk. He put the car in park before turning to look at him, his expression serious.

“What happened?” he asked, gently.

Clasping his shaking hands on his lap, Cyrus answered, “I… When you asked if I was interested in dating Aidan, I… got annoyed.”

T.J. blinked. “Oh.”

Cyrus bit his lip. “Is that what you think of me, T.J.? That I would just jump into a relationship with some guy I barely know?”

“What? No!” T.J. looked alarmed now as he reached out and took one of Cyrus’ hands in his. “That’s not it at all! I never once thought that about you! I was just joking, really! I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. It was a bad joke, I won’t do it again.”

And Cyrus knew that he meant it. T.J. was one of his closest and most supportive friends. He was always there for him. How could he have doubted him?

Why was he so dramatic?! Getting out of the car?! Making cars behind T.J. honk at him?!

“I’m sorry, too,” he said, placing a hand over T.J.’s and squeezing, gently. “I… I was being dramatic. This day was just… a lot. Seeing Lance and everyone staring at me like I’m in some kind of zoo exhibit and���”

He trailed off, frowning

T.J. raised an eyebrow. “And?”

Cyrus shook his head. “It’s nothing. This day was just… ugh.”

Finally, T.J. chuckled. “You want to grab ice cream then? Or a muffin? I think you deserve it. I’ll pay.”

His sweetness made Cyrus smile. “I’m in the mood for baby taters and a milkshake.”

T.J. pulled back and started the car. “Detour to The Spoon then.”

“Hey, Teej?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry.”

“Me too.”

Smiling at each other, T.J. turned his attention back on the road as he drove them to their beloved diner.

Meanwhile, Cyrus couldn’t help but think about why he acted the way he acted earlier. It was so irrational and so unlike him. His emotions just went haywire and he couldn’t seem to control them.

Feelings were so annoying! Well, at least he had quite a bit to talk about with his step-mother at their next session.

A/N: So... what do you, guys, think of Aidan? His character isn’t fully fleshed out yet but there will be more of him in upcoming chapters!

Tag list:

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@thedampjofangirl

@tjsmuffin

@alyssailovespuppies

@buffy-driscool

@cyrusyeehaw

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@amazingpartytattoos

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@completelysterling @theobligatedklutz

@justeilona @literally-just-for-fanfics

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@angel28716

[musikat18]

Glass Watches and Galas (John Kennex x Reader)

For @thefanficfaerie‘s Fairytale Challenge!

Pairing: John Kennex/Reader

Summary: All John wants is to crash one little possible InSyndicate party. With a little help from Dorian and Rudy, he’s able to make it to the gala, but a more-than-charming woman and a case of mistaken identity might make midnight a little less than pleasant.

Warnings: Language, canon-typical violence, mentions of trauma, implication of PTSD attack

A/N: Enjoy!

Once upon a time, a police detective by the name of John Kennex would’ve really rather been anywhere else.

“The reports are part of the calls, too, Kennex,” Paul frowned at the large pile of unfilled data chips on the detective’s desk.

“We all have reports,” Kennex shot back. “I’ll do mine if you do yours. Deal?” The other detective recoiled with a huff at his colleague’s sharpness. Fine then. If Kennex wanted to be sharp, then Paul could be sharp, too.

“Still looking into Moore’s disappearance?”

A huff of distaste puffed out of the detective’s mouth, “Does it really matter that much to you?”

“It just looks real shady looking into the ambush that you were the only one who escaped alive from. That’s all.”

Darkness clouded over the sitting man’s hazel eyes, “Thanks for the reminder.”

Paul frowned to one side and plopped a stack of new files on Kennex’s desk, “Well, these actual important things need to be filled out, and they’re yours. Try to get them done before Maldonado gets on both of our asses?”

Kennex tried not to burn a hole in the other man’s back as he walked away, but the words were stinging too hard on him.

What was he supposed to do? Walk away from what had happened like nothing?

Act like it wasn’t now his responsibility to fix things?

Act like Martin had meant nothing to him?

Act like he wasn’t hurt by….

He hesitated, trying not to let the thought cross his mind. No, it was best not to think about her in relation to what happened.

“John? A word, please?” Maldonado’s voice shook him from his thoughts, and he held back a grimace as he stood and crossed the threshold to Maldonado’s office. This was not going to be pretty.

“If you want to tell me to apologize, I’m not going to, it’s his fault,” Kennex crossed his arms, watching Maldonado as she shut the door behind him.

“That’s not what this is about, though I suppose it would be nice if you stopped picking fights with the other detectives.”

Kennex’s brow furrowed, and he followed her with his eyes as she made her way back to the other side of her desk.

“I know you’ve been looking into the whereabouts of the InSyndicate.”

John’s shoulders tensed. His jaw fell open as he began to explain himself, but Maldonado held up her hand.

“I didn’t really expect anything else, given what happened. I’m not mad, and I’m not putting it on your record. What I do want is to keep you informed.”

Maldonado pulled up a series of holofiles that stole Kennex’s interest away. The logo, a hotel, a man he didn’t recognize...what did she know that he didn’t?

“Tobias Tate is a business mogul with ties to lots of the biggest tech companies in the city. He also happens to have been spotted with more than a few Syndicate POIs in the last few months, and now he’s hosting a gala for all the most reputable tech distributors in the city tomorrow night. We don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

“Great,” Kennex squared his shoulders. “What do you want me to do?”

A look of consternation crossed Maldonado’s face.

“What?”

“John...you know I’m just as upset about the ambush and InSyndicate’s actions as you are.”

Kennex felt a pit in his stomach, suddenly not really liking where this was going.

“But…” he trailed off.

“It’s too close for you, John,” Maldonado said seriously. “I’m sorry. Even if you didn’t have so much other work to do, it’s too personal. I can’t send you in. It would be too easy for you to be compromised.”

Kennex’s jaw ticked, “I can handle it. If you let me and Dorian go in, we could take care of it.”

“I can’t be sure about that,” Maldonado sighed. “John, you’re one of my best detectives, but you’re not exactly known for subtlety. Or control when it comes to the Syndicate. I can’t afford losing my best detective and the upper hand to them.”

With a sharp inhale and flared nostrils, Kennex balled his fists, trying to contain his anger and disappointment. If anyone should’ve been at that gala, it was him. He needed closure. Desperately.

“...I understand, Captain,” he said, voice even and short, and he turned hard on his heel and left the office, unaware of Dorian’s eyes on him as he plopped back down at his desk and buried his nose in his reports, steam practically pouring out of his ears.

-

“I got maintenance last week, Dorian,” Kennex grumbled as the DRN model walked him to the tech lab. “I don’t need Rudy looking at my damn leg again. It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

“You don’t sound fine, though,” Dorian noted. “I saw your stress levels spiked after talking to the captain yesterday, so I listened to the audio from her office security to find out what the problem was.”

Kennex whipped his head towards Dorian, “You-- wait, you what? That’s eavesdropping! And you don’t need to scan my stress levels! My stress levels are perfectly normal!”

Dorian shot Kennex an unfortunately familiar look of judgement and disapproval. Kennex merely sighed gruffly and continued following.

“Alright, alright, what are you doing?”

Kennex had to school his disbelief and confusion into just his eyebrows at the sight of a well-tailored black suit on a mannequin, paired with a dusty blue tie and an elaborate silver mask with subtle blue details.

“...I’m not putting on that suit.”

“It’s a masquerade gala,” Rudy insisted. “If you want to go and blend in and get the intel on the Syndicate that you want, you gotta look the part.”

Kennex huffed; he wasn’t really a fan of fancy suits and stuffed shirts, but if it would give him his chance to investigate, he supposed playing along couldn’t be terrible. He disappeared into one of the nearby locker rooms to change, and once he decided he looked spiffy and well-coiffed enough, he went back into the lab, watching Rudy calibrate an interesting-looking watch, one that looked nearly made of glass.

“Let me guess, to help me blend in with the idle rich?” Kennex asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Aesthetically, yes,” Rudy explained. “This watch has a log, a recording device, and a direct line to Dorian if you get in any trouble. I’ve synched it to your fingerprint; you’re the only one who can unlock all the higher features, since no one will be expecting you there, no one will be thinking to replicate it ahead of time.”

Kennex nodded in approval as he clicked the watch onto his wrist.

“Great. Do I get a pumpkin coach, too?”

Dorian looked a little too smug, “Nope. But I do finally get to drive the car.”

-

“This feels wrong.”

“Of course it’s wrong,” Dorian said from the driver’s seat, “that’s why we’re here.”

Kennex wanted to remind Dorian that he was going to be back in the driver’s seat by tomorrow, but he held his tongue.

“Rudy’s caught some kind of weapons signatures moving in...you have to try and figure out what the deal is by midnight. Once midnight hits, alert me with the watch, and I’ll call in backup or help extract you from there.”

“Alright,” Kennex nodded. A pause… “Hey...you guys could totally get fired for helping me do this, so...thanks.”

Dorian smiled just a little.

“You’re welcome. Now...good luck.”

John nodded to his partner and slid the mask over his face, getting out of the car and measuring his movements to blend in. Casual...relaxed...even a little confident. He strode up to the door, quickly realizing he seemed to be the last one to arrive.

“Invitation?” the doorman asked.

“It’s...excuse me, one moment,” Kennex felt a swell of panic in his chest. Was he supposed to have an invitation? He patted around his jacket, and he disguised his sigh of relief at the invitation in his inner pocket as an exhale. “Here.”

The doorman examined the document, and with a nod of approval, let Kennex in.

Great, he thought. Where to start?

As Kennex scanned the ballroom with his eyes, he couldn’t help noticing a man who looked remarkably like the Tobias Tate shown to him by Maldonado...with a companion.

-

You were getting rather bored of entertaining Mr. Tate. He was a charming host, that much was certain, but you had some bigger fish to fry and other things to worry about.

Silver mask, blue tie, you reminded yourself. Silver mask, blue tie...that’s the saboteur.

Your eyes swept the ballroom one more time, pretending to laugh at something Mr. Tate had said, when your glance finally fell on a latecomer, striding into the ballroom in-- what else?-- a dusty blue tie and a silver mask.

“Will you excuse me for a moment?” you smiled sweetly at Mr. Tate.

“Eager to leave before the grand announcement?” he feigned disappointment, but you kept up your playful facade.

“Oh, don’t think me such a lightweight, Mr. Tate,” you giggled. “I just need some fresh air.”

You unwound yourself from his arm and headed to the stairs, careful not to get too ahead of yourself or your wide skirt. Your eyes flitted back to your target-- he was still watching you. As he came closer, you feigned a stumble.

“Are you alright?” he asked, steadying you as you moved to the ground floor.

“Oh, yes, I’m just fine,” you said, laughing off your feigned faux pas. “Even the best pair of heels can be so uncooperative.” You fluffed your gilded white skirt in lieu of exposing your footwear.

“I can’t relate, but you have my sympathy.”

When the song, changed, you offered him your hand.

“Think I could thank you with a dance?”

You felt a little flustered by the intent, hazel gaze under the mask, but steeled yourself under a charming smile.

He took your arm with a disarming smile of his own, “I think that should suffice.”

-

Kennex had to admit, you were making a very good distraction. Though, were you in on the scheme? He supposed it was better to be safe than sorry, holding your waist in one hand and your hand in the other. If he thought about it long enough, you fit against him rather well.

“So Mr. Tate seems like he likes you quite a bit,” he began, trying to open a conversation to see what you might know.

“Yes,” you smiled, “I’ve been told I’m quite charming. Though I think you could give me a run for my money, that was quite the smooth save back there. Most people here might’ve just let me fall.”

“You? How rude.”

You shrugged a little, “Well, I’m not exactly important. Believe it or not, this is my first rodeo. I’m not very into the party circuit. I like to be behind the scenes.”

Kennex cursed your ruby-crusted mask for concealing your face. You would be much easier to read if he could see your cheekbones.

Undeterred, he continued on, “What kind of behind the scenes?”

“Well, I’m not exactly a billionaire. But I’d certainly say my services are invaluable, anyway.”

Kennex was caught a little off-guard when you moved your hand away from his shoulder to curve around his tie, “But I want to know about you. What brings you by? Just another stuffed shirt? You don’t act like it.”

He chuckled and took your hand, “Guilty as charged. I’m like you, I guess. Behind the scenes.”

Kennex was suddenly very unnerved by the way your eyes iced over behind your mask.

“It’s nice to find a kindred spirit,” your eyes flickered to his watch, and his stomach dropped at the time. 11:59...had it really been fifteen minutes? It was too close to the endgame.

Your voice jolted him from his thoughts, eyes tracing over the handiwork of the glassy, intricate piece, “That’s a lovely watch. Very interesting. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

A beat.

“...Thank you. It was a gift. I...I think I should move along...wouldn’t want to ignore the host, I should look for Mr. Tate…”

Too close. He was coming too close to being made. How had you made him? Had you made him?

“Getting shy on me?” you grabbed his wrist, fingers clasping around the edges of the watch, and you looked him dead in the eyes as you hissed under your breath, “What the fuck are you planning to do to these people?”

Several explosions suddenly shook the room, jolting the two of you apart.

-

Kennex felt his heart rate spike, and he took a moment to shake himself away from an ambush a year and a half ago.

Midnight, Kennex realized with worry. He felt down around his wrist, suddenly feeling a well of panic when he realized Rudy’s watch was missing. He stood and began whirling around, trying to find where it could have fallen off in the excitement.

He almost felt lucky to catch a glimpse of you dashing off up the stairs again-- were you wearing combat boots? Kennex saw you turn and look over the chaos, messing frantically with the watch and looking around with frantic confusion when nothing happened.

“Dammit,” he grumbled under his breath. So help wasn’t going to be coming, not as long as you had his watch. Kennex turned his attention to the masked attackers, dressed in finery and shooting down at the fleeing partygoers. He practically jumped up the opposite set of stairs, slamming the face of one into the balcony railing and running towards another, only to be nailed down by a man in a silver mask and dusty blue tie. His assailant shoved the mask up off of Kennex’s face, and an evil grin developed.

“Detective John Kennex,” he smirked, stomping Kennex’s lights out.

He was beginning to understand why you were suddenly so hostile.

-

Access denied. Access denied. Access denied.

“Dammit,” you grumbled under your breath, scrambling up the stairs with the watch. Why were none of the attacks stopping? “Open up!”

Access only authorized to Detective John R. Kennex.

“Detective?” you muttered under your breath.

Wheels began turning in your head as you watched the man you’d nicked the watch from run up the stairs and attack one of the assailants before being tackled by another man in silver and blue.

“Oh...shit….”

You tore away the overlay of your skirt and pressed the button hidden in the embroidery of your bodice, protective sleeves sliding out from the caps. You pocketed the watch in one of your pants pockets and broke off into a run.

You didn’t know who this Detective Kennex was or what he was doing here, but it seemed better to have one kind-of competent ally around in this firefight than none at all.

Running up to the rooftop from the stairs, though, you encountered a bit of a problem.

-

“Are you serious?” Kennex grumbled, not really a fan of this whole damsel-in-distressing. He tugged his wrists hard against the pole, deciding he hadn’t held his wrists tight enough when he got tied down to slip out now.

“I’m always serious about not getting my ass blown to hell by the FBI,” his assailant said. “Now, I’m gonna leave you here for our fair-weather friend to find, and I’m gonna-”

“Freeze, FBI!”

Both Kennex and his attacker snapped their heads to look at you, gun pointed, mask still on, and clearly trying to make sense of the situation. If Kennex knew how to alert you to the danger, he would, but he felt vastly unlucky that your apparent actual target also seemed to be a dark-haired male.

“Thank god,” the impostor said with a sigh of relief. “Glad you made it out okay.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Kennex barked, “Don’t listen to him!”

A hint of hesitation in your eyes. Your gaze flickered between the two men, not sure what to do or who to trust.

“...Unlock the watch, then.”

This seemed to take both men by surprise.

“Pardon me?” The standing man chuckled. “What watch?”

“The watch,” you kept your gun up with one hand and used the other to dig into your pants pocket and pull out the glassy watch, clasp broken but otherwise intact. “The one that broke in the explosion. I found it on the ground. I’m very sure I remember you wearing it.”

If Kennex had his mask off and was standing, you might have noticed him grin. The other man, meanwhile, froze at your challenge.

“I...of course.”

He took cautious steps forward, and you kept as tight a grip you could on the watch as he pressed his thumb to the face.

Access denied.

The man went to strike you, but you blocked his arm, stomped the inside of his knee, and struck him hard across the face, knocking him to the ground and turning him flat on his back.

“You’re under arrest for association with the criminal organization InSyndicate and organizing and partaking in a violent attack on a private event on private premises.”

Kennex fidgeted as you read the man his rights and picked up the watch from where it had been knocked to the ground. You approached Kennex and cut one of his wrists free.

“I’m guessing this is yours, but it’s really better to be safe than sorry,” you said, smiling a little. He chuckled under his breath and pressed his thumb to the face of the watch, smiling as it lit up with commands and buttons.

Hello, John Reginald Kennex, the screen read, and Kennex huffed at the name as you suppressed a laugh. Calling Dorian.

“John!” The DRN’s face appeared on the screen, “Are you alright? You didn’t call at midnight. Did something happen?”

“Got a little caught up, Dorian,” Kennex said. “We...might have a little to talk about to the FBI, but that’s fine. I’m alright. Is everyone okay from the gala?”

“Minimal casualties, Maldonado sent in Paul. He alerted the proper authorities, they’re getting treatment.”

Kennex scoffed, “Ugh, I can’t believe she sent him of all...fine, great. Okay. Get somewhere they won’t recognize you, I’ll find your coordinates.”

When Kennex closed the call, he took his mask off. You decided he was pleasant-looking.

“Sorry if I kind of derailed your entire operation,” he said. “I...InSyndicate is kind of personal for me. My captain didn’t want me coming, but I...I couldn’t leave it alone.”

“Me too,” your lips pulled into a soft smile, “not the unsanctioned investigation thing, the personal part. I’m sorry I thought you were with them. Y/N Y/L/N, FBI Cyber Crimes unit.”

“John Kennex,” he grinned back. “I work in Investigations in the Delta section, near my place in District 07.”

“Funny,” you pushed your mask up onto your forehead and chewed at your lip, “I...also live in District 07.”

Kennex had to fight a boyish grin off his face. Smart and badass and beautiful…. He understood where you got that ‘charming’ line from.

“Well, that’s a real funny coincidence. Might have more in common with you than I expected.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “So...I guess you did kind of get in the way of an official FBI investigation. But it wasn’t actually your fault that you dressed like the perp, so I’ll just let you off with a strong warning.”

“Thanks, Agent,” Kennex smirked. “I’m...assuming Agent. It is Agent, isn’t it?”

“Sure,” you laughed. “Agent.” You scribbled something down on a notepad from your pocket and tore the paper for him. “If you need anything...or want anything...give me a call.”

Kennex had to smile down at the phone number written under the name Agent.

This debacle of a stakeout was turning into what seemed to be able to lead to a happily ever after….

Tagging: @shimmershoo @feelmyroarrrr @annathewitch @yallneedtrek @goingknowherewastaken @bkwrm523 @queenmismatched @bookcaseninja @fearofdeathkeepsusalive @kjs-s @lauuerodz @atomicdna