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sabraeal · 9 months

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Greatest Little Show on Earth

[Read on AO3]

It’s quiet for the back lot, even for this time of night. Just the hum of the floodlight and the chirp of crickets out in the grass, hopping to safety as they wade the last few feet up to the blacktop. Shirayuki squints across it, searching trailer stoops and picnic tables, but there’s not a hint of clowns laughing too loud, or jugglers bobbling illicit alcohol containers out of view. Not a single acrobat out there either, finding new ways to endanger themselves on everyday equipment. For once, she has to admit, she’s disappointed.

“Well, would you look at that?” Obi huffs, pausing at the edge of the pavement. With a shift and a shimmy, he hikes Ryuu’s floppy limbs over his shoulders, adjusting them like a scarf. “Little bit of food poisoning and everyone’s got the wind taken out of their sails.”

“Food poisoning can be very serious.” There’s vials in the lab’s freezer labeled things like E. coli 2012 Munich McDonalds and S. enterica 2008 Atlanta Taco Bell; she’d laughed the first time she’d seen them, until Garrack reminded her that they didn’t store strains without a body count. “And besides, it was only Concessions that went out to sushi last night. That shouldn’t be keeping everyone else from, er…”

Having too good a time insinuates that she’s never stayed up past her bedtime, being too loud too late at night while her friends stealthily passed around beer liberated from someone’s garage fridge. Which she hadn’t; high school Shirayuki had been early to bed, early to rise— up until college, where she discovered just what havoc a chemistry final could wreak on a healthy sleep schedule. But Obi doesn’t need to know that. Not when she still hasn’t figured out just when he gets his shut eye around here.

“They’re a bunch of teenagers. They’re idiots.” He chuckles to himself, reaching up to give Ryuu’s shaggy mop a good ruffle. “Present company excluded. Can’t get them to believe that if they kiss every clown playing spin the bottle, we’ll have to send them home with mono, but tell them that they need to wash their hands real good or they’ll get the runs, and suddenly they think they can get it through their eyeballs”

It’s impossible to smother her giggle, but she at least keeps the volume low enough that it doesn’t echo across the whole lot. “That sounds like experience.”

“It is,” he promises, the shadows clinging onto a corner of his smirk. “A couple summers of this and you’ll know all you need to know about the adolescent psyche. Which mostly boils down to: a kid by themselves is a genius, but a group of them has less sense than a clown car.”

Two years ago, the Shirayuki that had stepped fresh off the bus from Tanbarun with nothing but the lab’s address in her pocket would have demured, would have said something like, I don’t know if that’s very fair, or that’s because they’re just learning how to take care of themselves.

The Shirayuki that’s spent those same two years in Garrack Gazelt’s lab says, “I think that’s just people.”

“Makes sense then, doesn’t it?” It’s funny how he can slant a smile at her, and suddenly it’s a secret, shared between the two of them. “Since they’re just people too.”

“Yeah.” A little more wild, in her experience, and stubborn for sure, but well— Yuzuri’s a bit wild too, hanging from silks and rings, spiraling from dizzying heights with only confidence and skill as her net. And Shidan’s just as stubborn, keeping the whole tour on schedule even through floods and fatigue and teenage angst. “I guess that’s true.”

Obi’s boots scuff up to a stoop, and he reaches up to ruffle once again, with a little more purpose this time. “Okay, bucko, this is the last stop. Time for all good geniuses to get to bed.”

Ryuu blinks up blearily, cheek still pressed into Obi’s shoulder. He might be fifteen, just a hair shy of a growth spurt that will make him look like an adult, but right now he reminds her of nothing more than a toddler, roused by the transfer from car to crib.

“Obi?” he creaks. “Where…?”

“Your trailer. You sacked out while we were wrapping up the till, champ. Hey, Kirito.” Obi slams hard on the door. “Can you come help a guy out, here?”

The aluminum wibbles open, and a grumpy thatch of blond glares out. “Bro, what’s your—? Oh, damn, you find him under a counter or something?”

“He sat down while we were closing out the register,” Shirayuki explains, swallowing down a giggle as Ryuu flops between Obi and Kirito, boneless. “I guess it’s been a long day.”

Ryuu’s not a big kid, but there’s a lot more of him now than when they arrived. Kirito stumbles, trying to make sense out of the mess of limbs. “I’ll say. You sure he’s okay?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely.” She reaches out, smoothing a curl off his forehead. “He’d fall asleep under his desk at the lab too. We put a little curtain up in his cube for privacy.”

Kirito huffs, slinging one of Ryuu’s arms around his neck. “Hard to believe this guy does real work.”

“I’m the youngest college graduate of my university,” Ryuu slurs out, helpful. “Shirayuki. Thank you.”

A laugh bubbles up behind her smile. “Oh, it’s no problem, Ryuu. It was really Obi who got you all the way back. You know I’m happy to—“

“No, not that.” He’s still half asleep, but his gaze fixes on her through the net of his eyelashes, as intense as when he’s awake. “For coming here with me. I’m having a lot of fun.”

There’s a prickle at the corners of her eyes, but it would embarrass him if she teared up now. The last things teenagers like is a sappy adult. “It’s my pleasure, Ryuu. You deserve it.”

He nods, all formal and stiff, the way he had the first time she’d spoken to him, asking if he could show her how to use the flow cytometer. With a lift of his chin, he turns to Kirito and announces, “I would like to be unconscious now.”

The kid sighs, patting him on the shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. You and me both.”

The door slams behind them, rattling in it frame, and then it’s just her and Obi underneath the floodlights, shadows so long they merge. She squints across the pavement, just barely able to pick out the big top at the horizon, nearly lost in the trees.

“Well,” she says, her voice suddenly too loud in the silence. “Even with all the food poisoning and last minute shifts, it turned out to be a pretty nice night.”

Obi hums, hands sliding into the pockets of his jeans. Black jeans, which she’s never seen before, too nice to be worn while fixing the generator or unclogging the shower’s piping. The shirt’s new to her too, a nice red crew neck with three buttons down the front, two of them undone and the sleeves rolled up. No holes, either, which is a first for his wardrobe, and she nearly says something, nearly says, do you only dress up for front house or is tonight special? But—

But he just slants a look down at her— another secret, just between them— and says, “You know, it doesn’t have to end.”

Even the big top’s dark this late at night , all hunkered down like some mythical beast in its hundred year slumber. But when Obi holds open the flap, moonlight illuminating the packed earth beyond, and she just…walks right in. Blows right past every klaxon blaring in her mind and slips into its silky maw, waiting at he ties the flap back.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be here.” It’s impossible to speak louder than a whisper with the cavernous darkness of the ring pressing in around her. “The kids have already cleaned up, and they’re not supposed to be here after it’s been checked.”

“It’s fine.” Obi brushes past her, waving a lazy hand. “The kids can’t come back here, sure, but we’re grown adults. We’ve signed waivers and everything.”

Her shoes pull up short at the shadow’s edge. “That’s not really filling me with confidence, Obi.”

He sighs— not impatient or frustrated, like she’s used to, a goad used to hurry her along, but…fond. Like he’d been waiting for the protest, like that had been part of the script he’d written for the evening, and she’s merely playing her role.

“C’mon, Doc,” he says, little more than a rumble in the darkness. “I’ll make sure you don’t break a toe.”

“Shouldn’t we turn on a light or some—oh.” His fingers wrap around her wrist, so long they overlap on the other side, and she just…loses her train of thought. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry, your eyes adjust.” She’s heard that sort of promise before— don’t worry, I have you and it’ll be easier once you just do it— but they never account for how clumsy she is on her own too feet, how unsure, but—

But Obi keeps it, guiding her slowly through the stands and over the barrier of the ring, his hands burning where they settle on her hips. Even though she can barely see, she somehow always knows where he is in front of her, or how he wants her to move with little more than a breath and a touch. And when he finally guides her onto a stacked set of mats, he’s right. With the vents on the tent and the opened flaps, the moonlight illuminates the ring as bright as the spots.

“Here,” he says, pressing something cold into her hands. A bottle. “Refreshment.”

It only takes one sip for her to choke. “Is this alcohol?”

They don’t sell those at concessions— with a bunch of minors running it, that would be asking for trouble— and yet beneath all the fruit juice, this is definitely, definitely booze.

“It’s mine. Stashed them at the ticket counter.” His teeth flash white as he settles next to her. “Figured the kids would pack up early tonight, and then you’d finally get a look at the place when it’s not all dolled up.”

“Is that…?” She takes another sip, longer this time, and unlike the beers Garrack used to press on her at lab happy hour, it’s not bitter. “…Is that important?”

“A right of passage,” he informs her, shoulder bumping hers. Her stomach flutters in surprise. “Gotta see what it’s like when the lights aren’t on and crowd’s all gone. That’s how you know if you really love it.”

“O-oh.” It is nice like this, all quiet, like the caves she used to play in back home. “So, someone took you out too? Earlier in the tour, or…?”

“No, I-- did Yuzuri never tell you?” He laughs, surprised. “Usually she can’t keep her mouth shut.”

All at once, the roost of butterflies in her stomach wither. “Oh, are you two—? I though she— that Suzu—“

He coughs around his drink. “Yuzuri and me? No, no. God, no. I meant that I was an aerialist. Back when I first came here.”

Shirayuki blinks. “And then they made you back lot manager? That’s a strange career trajectory.”

“Nah, nah.” His hand waves in front of him, the motion strangely staccato in the half-light. “When I was in the camp.”

“In the camp?” Tonight’s the first time she’s ever seen him out of his band tee and cargo pants, and now he’s asking her to imagine spangly leotards and stirrup pants? Impossible. “You came here?”

“Yeah, when I was a kid.” His shoulders jump, a casual shrug that misses it mark. “Court order, actually.”

Yuzuri always jokes that if Obi’s breathing, he’s talking, but it’s never like— like this. About himself. Then again, Shirayuki can understand why he might keep a checkered history close to his chest. Especially at a camp for kids. “Court…order?”

“Ah, yeah yeah. Fell into a rough crowd when I was in middle school or whatever. Got caught.” He grins at that, like he’s proud of it. “Judge thought twelve was a little young for a kid to get a record, so she pulled some strings. Guess she knew the guy running this— not Shidan, he was just an instructor then— and she must have thought that if my idle hands were kept busy on the trapeze, I wouldn’t have any left for trouble.”

“Ah…” Another sip steadies her, gives her the courage to ask, “Did it work?”

“Just learned to get up to a different sort of trouble.” He winks, too charming, and she has no trouble at all imagining what shape that sort took. No wonder Yuzuri always rolled her eyes when he hung around, telling him, buzz off and root around in some other flower, bumblebutt. “But I came here every summer until the scholarship money dried up.”

There’s a story in that, she knows, but he’s already sharing so much of himself she can’t bring herself to pry. Not about that, at least. “Is that why you came back? Because you miss it?”

“Sure isn’t because I love unclogging trailer toilets, that’s for sure.” He hooks his hands behind his head, leaning back. “They did right by me. The old boss, and Shidan too. I like to come back when I can. Now that I work for my uncle— ah, not my real uncle, it’s complicated— I’ve got summers I can spend on this. Time to help some other kids learn a different type of trouble.”

“Oh?” It’s a struggle to keep her mouth straight as she asks, “Like Ryuu?”

That gets him, a nice thunderstorm of a laugh that rolls over her from head to toe. “I think he’ll be finding a different sort of trouble all right. Can’t see mine interesting him.”

“Probably not,” she agrees, a giggle bubbling around the edges of it. “So you still do it though? I mean the acrobat stuff, not the, um, trouble.”

He snorts. “I don’t get up to as much trouble as I used to, I can tell you that much, Doc. But the circus tricks…” His eyes skim over the tent. “Here, hold this.”

His bottle settles into her hands, cold against her palms, and he doesn’t so much stand up as unfurl. “Looks like the kids were playing with the lyra before they cleared out. Have it down at practice height and everything.”

With a squint, she sees it’s true, the silvery rim of the aerial hoop dangling at his shoulder. Still too tall for her, despite all of Yuzuri’s off-hours coaching, but Obi hooks his knees up and over it it with speed that speaks of muscle memory, of a trick done a hundred times until it was as natural as breathing. With the subtlest swing, he pulls himself up, perching on the ring like the hanging birds her nanna liked to keep in the sunroom, spinning every time the wind blew. Birdchimes, she’d called them, though they’d never made a sound.

“Wow,” she breathes. “You’re just as good at the kids!”

“I did try to do it professionally,” he explains, fitting his feet to the bottom of the hoop and pushing himself up. “Got into Cirque du Soliel even.”

“Really?”

“Hah, don’t get excited,” he teases, wrapping himself around the top of the ring now. “I only lasted six months.”

“Oh?” Her mouth curves as she stands, handing him his bottle. “Trouble?”

“Worse.” He takes a long drag on the drink before he hands it back, grin bright in the moonlight. “French Canadians. I like weird, but those guys are another level. Quit and never looked back.”

Her only point of reference is Mitsuhide, who maybe likes spreadsheets more than a normal person should, and is so nice he makes her look like selfish. Which might be it’s own kind of weird, but…

“So what about you, Doc?” He slides down, putting his back to one side and kicking up a leg on the other for balance. Man in the Moon, Yuzuri would call it. “Don’t often see academics running away to the circus.”

“Ah…” Her mouth takes a rueful tilt. “Yeah, I think if we leave, it’s mostly just to open bakeries.”

His eyes are obscured by the shadow of his brow, but she does see those hike up, furrowing in confusion. “Really? I’d like to see that.”

It’s nice it’s so dark; he can’t possibly see her blush. “Maybe if we ever go some place with an over that doesn’t, er…”

“Make everything charcoal briquettes?”

Shirayuki grimaces. “Yeah, that. I do make a mean cookie.”

“Ah, Doc, I don’t think you could make anything mean. But you didn’t answer the question.” He leans out of the ring, head tipped back, until his mouth is level with hers. “What kind of trouble are you looking for?”

That’s the thing about Obi, it’s all simple with him; talking, working, just being with him feels natural. There’s no complications, no worries, just the frisson of him so close to her it feels like lightning just under her skin. It’s nothing to lean it, to cup the back of his head and press her lips to his, catching his gasp on her tongue.

At least, it feels that way, until he topples right out of the ring.

“Oh!” Her lips still tingle when she pressed her hand to them, electric. “I’m sorry, I just thought that— that there was a vibe? That— ah, I must have been—“

“No, no!” Her scrambles to his feet, all limbs. “That vibe is very correct. You should definitely keep feeling that vibe. I just…won’t fall like an idiot this time.”

He reaches out to her, his smile no longer confident but hopeful, the rough calluses of his fingers catching behind her elbows.

“I think I messed up,” she blurts out, and oh, it’s terrible to watch his face fall like that, to watch him falter. “No, I mean. Not this. It’s just…”

He blinks. “Shirayuki?”

Ah, it would have been nice for him to say her name at any other point than this. “I sort of…already have…? I mean, I was sort of seeing someone before I came here.”

Those eyebrows hike again. “Sort of?”

“Ah…” She grimaces. “He might…sort of…be the reason I’m here. Partly.”

He takes in a deep breath, and guides her to the mats. “All right, Doc,” he says, sitting down beside her. She nearly squeaks in relief when he wraps an arm around her. “Keep talking.”

#obiyukibingo23 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #circus au #though it's really like a circus smirkus au #ans #there was supposed to be a bunch more context but things had to be TRIM for TIME REASONS #but i wanted boy genius ryuu deciding to go to circus camp. for REASONS #mostly trying to reparent himself at the tender age of fifteen #and convincing Shirayuki to go with him since the camp needs another adult #there's a camp around where i am where you learn to do circus stuff and then go on a road show down the coast #i had a friend who basically worked obi's job as back lot manager #and oh boy are summer romances a thing #even among instructors #ANYWAY A TASTE OF WHAT THIS AU COULD BE #and now i may wash my hands of it #until the bingo gods make me resurrect it

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