#But he must know that he's walking a thin line with Harvard's tolerance and I don't think he enjoys disappointing Harvard all the time

[iffeelscouldkill]

Lost in a Familiar Place pt. 6

(Aka the ‘Nicholas never applied to Kings Row’ AU)

A/N: This is the second-to-last instalment of this fic! So the next update will be the final one, although it's shaping up to be twice as long as the other chapters, so... it'll be like a double chapter. But I'll post it as one thing xD

In which Nicholas spends time with Eugene and Bobby, and Harvard works some things out.

Previous chapters: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

“So you were there because Harvard just invited you to watch practice on the spot,” Eugene summarised, as Bobby sipped his smoothie and listened wide-eyed. When Bobby had said ‘get smoothies’, Nicholas had assumed they were going into town – but Kings Row students weren’t allowed off-campus during term-time without special permission.

Instead, they were at a little shop on campus with tables outside that sold “healthy” smoothies. Bobby described them as “not too bad”; Nicholas took one mouthful and didn’t know what to think. Maybe they were an acquired taste.

“And then,” Eugene continued, “you mouthed off at Seiji Katayama-”

“Not mouthed off,” Nicholas objected, laughing. “I was just saying that I saw-”

“-holes in his defence, yeah; I’m pretty sure that counts as mouthing off to someone like Seiji,” Eugene said. “You did that, and then Coach Williams was like, ‘Hey, why not let this random guy borrow some gear and join in?’”

Nicholas grinned and shrugged. “It sounds weird, I know, but I guess she knew me from Regionals? She saw my match against Kyle.” He grimaced and played with his straw. “Not the greatest show of my skills, but I’m getting better all the time.”

“I can’t believe this all happened because you hooked up with Aiden,” Bobby exclaimed, sounding thrilled and a little scandalised. “What was that like, by the way? I’ve always wondered. Is he a good kisser?”

“Uh,” Nicholas thought about it. “Yeah, not bad.” He shrugged one shoulder. “So – does Seiji not hang out with you guys after practice?”

He caught Bobby and Eugene trading a brief look of amusement, although he didn’t know exactly why.

“He’s pretty closed-off,” Bobby said. “We have invited him, but – he’s so driven. It doesn’t seem like he has much time for anything social.” He smiled, apparently wowed by idea of being so dedicated to fencing that it was all you ever did. “Eugene has talked to him, haven’t you, Eugene?”

“Uh, not much,” Eugene said. “Just a few times in practice. He’ll critique your form – whether you want it or not, usually. He did give me some good advice about protein shakes once, though.”

Nicholas thought about Seiji’s laser focus when he fenced, the relentless way that he won point after point. In truth, Nicholas wished he could be more like that. He’d thought that he was motivated to better himself, but compared to Seiji, he wasn’t serious at all. That drive, that sheer determination – it was what made Seiji a champion.

A thoughtful silence descended for a bit before Nicholas cast around for a change of subject. “So – what’s it like, being at Kings Row?” he asked. “I’ve always kind of wondered what boarding school is like. Are they super strict?”

Bobby’s eyes lit up. “It’s great! Sure, it’s kind of formal, but there’s a lot of fun stuff, too. Most of the fencers are in the same dorm…”

Nicholas listened as Bobby and Eugene told tales of assemblies and study hall, sneaking extra food from the canteen, sharing care packages from home and doing makeovers (that one was mostly Bobby).

“The dress code is strict,” Eugene complained. “Plus, you have different types of uniform that you have to wear for different things. Like sports class, or assembly.”

“Why?” Nicholas asked.

Eugene talked about cutting class when he was inducted into the team and sneaking out to the fencing clubhouse for a secret feast and team pledge. He joked about his ‘long road’ to making the team at Kings Row, trying out every year until he achieved his goal. Bobby excitedly explained why he wanted to be a fencer, and talked about his roommate, Dante, who claimed he wasn’t interested in fencing (yet hadn’t missed one of Bobby’s tryout matches).

Nicholas listened in fascination as he finished his smoothie. Truthfully, apart from the rules and the weird dress code, it sounded… fun. It was clear that the senior fencers were good guys, and that everyone at Kings Row looked out for each other even if there was some friendly competition.

And the fencing facilities… Bobby and Eugene had talked about Kings Row’s terrible track record in major competitions, but Nicholas could only dream of training somewhere like the spacious salle they’d fenced in today. For a moment, he tried to imagine it, picturing himself in a team uniform, standing in the middle of the salle, épée in hand… and a powerful wave of longing swept over him that made his breath catch. God, he wanted that so much.

He realised that Bobby and Eugene had both fallen quiet and were looking at him, although Eugene broke eye contact when Nicholas looked up, tipping his cup to drain his smoothie. Bobby smiled gently.

“You know, I’m pretty sure that Kings Row offers a fencing scholarship,” he said. “Did you ever think about trying out?”

“I don’t… Uh, I’m not really… I dunno,” Nicholas admitted, unable to muster up his usual reasoning. “It’s too late now, I guess.”

“Well, hey, if you’re ever down for getting your ass whooped in a practice match-” Eugene nudged Nicholas’ arm with a fist – “you know where to find me.”

Bobby grinned brightly at him. “Yeah, maybe we could hang out over break!”

Nicholas swallowed and smiled at them both. “That would be cool,” he said.

*

Harvard paced back and forth in the shadow of the Kings Row library building. He shouldn’t be out past curfew; as team Captain, he had a responsibility to set a good example. (Granted, he and Aiden had done it a few times in the past – more than a few, really).

But he couldn’t go back to his and Aiden’s shared dorm room. Aiden had set him a challenge to figure out what he meant by “it doesn’t do to get too attached”. He’d promised to tell Harvard the answer if Harvard couldn’t work it out, but Harvard instinctively knew that needing Aiden to tell him would be a kind of failure. And this was Aiden. His best friend. Someone he knew better than anyone else in the world, and vice versa. There was no way he wouldn’t be able to figure this out.

So, what had Aiden actually said? Harvard had asked him why he didn’t try properly as part of the team, and Aiden had responded by saying that it wasn’t good to get attached. Harvard knew that Aiden had issues with commitment. His home life had never been stable, and his dad had never offered consistent affection or emotional attention, instead thinking that throwing money around would substitute for a total lack of investment in his son’s life.

So, Aiden rejected people before they could reject him, never getting too close to anyone (except for Harvard, because Harvard refused to act like everyone else. Even when Aiden sometimes made that difficult).

But it couldn’t only be that, because Aiden knew that Harvard knew about his flaky tendencies; that wasn’t a secret. It had to be something more than that. Anyway, Aiden hadn’t always been as inconsistent as he was now – it had been a gradual thing. At the beginning, Harvard remembered, Aiden had been as dedicated as he was: showing up to every practice, doing drills and working at new moves alongside the rest of the team. Harvard recalled how much Elias, the then-captain, had liked him.

Then he’d started skipping out on the odd practice, claiming he couldn’t possibly meet his dates at any other time. When Harvard pressed him on it, Aiden had brushed him off, saying that he didn’t need all those extra practices to wipe the floor with his opponents. This was, admittedly, true (at least at the level that Kings Row competed at), and he still came through for the matches, so Harvard dropped it. But it had stung.

When he was captain, he told himself, he wouldn’t let it slide. But it was Aiden, and so… he had. Harvard sighed at himself, thinking about it. Aiden had always been his weak spot, and he’d always been able to push past the lines that Harvard tried to draw in a way that no-one else could. Whether it was skipping out on team practice… or bringing dates into their room. That one had always got his back up. The dorm room was their space, the place where they lounged around together and ate cupcakes and watched old swordfighting movies side by side.

Harvard had tried to be okay with it, telling himself that Aiden might be serious about one of these guys, and so he should get used to having them around. But Aiden never was. Harvard took Aiden's flings more seriously than Aiden did.

Aiden could never bring himself to be serious about anything, Harvard knew. He’d stopped expecting it ages ago. So, he wasn’t sure why he couldn’t chalk all of this up to Aiden being Aiden and move on.

He wanted Aiden to commit to the team, but… it wasn’t just that. Fencing had always been something that they’d done together. Being on the team, going to matches and commentating on the other fencers, watching old movies and tournament footage… Harvard had been surprised to hear Aiden say that he joined the team for Harvard because he hadn’t thought that Aiden felt the same – but fencing was their thing for Harvard too.

He had wanted Aiden to come through not for the team, not really; but for him. And when he hadn’t… Harvard had felt like he was an idiot to care as much as he did.

Harvard stared off into the distance, rubbing absently at his breastbone. He thought about the last time that he and Aiden had fenced a match against each other, during team tryouts. Harvard had enjoyed most of his matches during tryouts, even amidst the pressure. Eugene had improved so much; fencing Seiji had been a refreshing challenge, despite the stress of knowing he’d lose. And he always had fun fencing Kally, who was very tactical – a bit like Aiden.

But fencing Aiden had been… So much better than any of those matches. Harvard remembered the way Aiden tied his hair up before the match, since it was now long enough to go in a ponytail. It was a bit mesmerising, watching him flick it into place. He’d grinned, and Aiden had smiled, and it was like it had always been between them – familiar, but somehow unexpected.

They’d begun, and Aiden had fenced defensively at first, so much so that Harvard had raised an eyebrow at him. “Are we going to really fence, here?” he’d asked, and Aiden had responded with this sharp grin, and then they were fencing.

Harvard was used to this version of Aiden that he saw during fencing matches – particularly during that match against Seiji – who was all sharp edges, quicksilver wit and cutting tongue, never in the same place for too long. He turned into that person, too, when he broke up with someone. Harvard thought of it as Aiden’s defensive strategy – a way of keeping people at a distance. Of punishing them if they got too close. It made sense that this would apply as much to dating as it did to fencing.

But when the two of them fenced, Aiden was just… Aiden. The way that Harvard knew him – funny, quick, clever, his feigned carelessness disguising how much he really did care, deep down. His brow furrowed in thought while he fenced Harvard, and at one point Harvard had made a joke, some dumb reference to one of their old swordfighting movies, and Aiden had laughed openly. And Harvard had thought, There you are.

Aiden gave him a strange look, and for a moment Harvard feared the words had come out of his mouth. “What?” Aiden asked.

“I… nothing. I miss this,” Harvard had said. And then, quieter, “I miss this you.”

Aiden had looked startled, and Harvard hurriedly put his mask back on and took up a stance. They’d fenced the rest of the match, Harvard had won, and things had pretty much been normal between them. But Harvard had thought that Aiden had looked preoccupied, afterwards.

“It doesn’t do to get too attached.” Without realising it, Harvard began pacing again, more quickly. He was suddenly looking at everything in a different light.

It had never just been about fencing – it was about fencing and them. Aiden had pulled away from fencing and pulled away from Harvard because that was what he always did – to keep people at arm’s length, to keep from showing how much he cared. To protect himself. Because– because–

Harvard thought about Aiden’s shocked look when Harvard had said, “I miss this you.” He thought about Aiden running his hands through blond hair to tie it up out of the way, wisps escaping from his ponytail as he fenced, his blue eyes calculating, a knowing smirk dancing around his lips. He thought about Aiden’s laugh when they fenced.

He thought about flopping down next to Aiden on their beds, arms pressed together – about leaning into him during a movie night, trusting that Aiden would be there, solid, next to him. Harvard could vividly picture Aiden’s smile; the angle of his jaw. In his mind’s eye, he turned his head, and–

Oh. “Oh,” Harvard said out loud, staring into the distance. Then he bolted around the side of the building. He needed to find Aiden immediately.

[vintagevalentinex]

Decode, XI

Hi guys!  I hope you like this next chapter!  Please let me know what you think.  Feedback is CRUCIAL and it definitely helps speed along the process of writing! xoxo

Decode, XI by vintagevalentinexx Mycroft Holmes x Reader ~1275 words

How did your life come to this?

Here you were, lying awake, staring at the ceiling in a flat of a man who was what you would consider an insolent brat.  Apparently he was one of the very few that could keep you safe.  He definitely wasn’t your first choice.  In the limited time you have spent with Sherlock, you found him absolutely abrasive. There was no doubting that his intelligence was on par with Mycroft’s, but he lacked the decorum, the subtlety, the—

Mycroft.

How did you feel about him?  It had only been a few days, but somehow it felt like so much longer.  As you continued to stare up at the dark ceiling, you raised your hand, bringing your knuckles over your cheek, over your lips. How was it that such a simple gesture, his knuckles grazing yours, could feel so…intimate?  He usually kept his distance from you, keeping enough room between the both of you to be considered polite…but this gesture, this intimate gesture, felt so positively correct.

What were you to him? What was he to you?  You chewed on your lip, sighing deeply.  If you had to be honest with yourself, you knew you had some sort of feelings for Mycroft.  Was it love?  At this point, that would be nearly impossible.  How could you love someone you’ve known for only about a week?  You rethought the question.  Could you love him?  Pulling the thin blanket Sherlock so graciously provided you over your face, you huffed.

You were positively in his clutches, and that was exactly where you wanted to be.

You weren’t sure when sleep finally came to you, but you were certainly thankful that Sherlock had not performed some kind of hellish experiments during the night.  You woke slowly, a scream erupting from your throat as you were met with a pair of inquisitive eyes, directly in front of your face.

“What the HELL are you doing?!”

Sherlock continued to stare, squinting as if you were a puzzle that he had to solve.

“I am trying to figure out why it’s you…”

“Why it’s me, what? What are you going on about?!”

“You’re interesting to many people, (Y/N).  The disgruntled professor at Harvard for instance…and the seemingly psychotic hitman who has formed quite an obsession over you…but most importantly…my dear brother.  He doesn’t get personally involved in situations like this typically.  He has people for that.”

You roll your eyes, sitting up, the blanket still wrapped around you.

“Why do you even care? I thought the two of you didn’t even like each other that much.”

He smirked, sitting back in his armchair, steepling his fingers underneath his chin, his gaze unwavering.

“That is precisely why I must figure you out, (Y/N). I have never seen Mycroft take a personal interest in anyone, let alone a romantic one.  I must know why he finds you so…intriguing.”

You look away from his intense gaze, not knowing how to retort.  You jumped a little as you heard the tell-tale sign of your phone notifying you that you had a text message.  You looked back up at Sherlock, his lips twisted in a smirk.

“Go ahead, answer it. I wonder who it could be…”

Resisting the temptation to curse him out, you decided to look at your phone.

[1 New Text Message.]

[8:33 am] I hope I haven’t woken you up.  I wanted to wish you a good morning. –M

You smiled, ignoring the overtly loud snicker of Sherlock.

[8:34 am] Sleep found me eventually, thankfully. Though to be honest, I’m not sure how much longer I am going to be able to tolerate your brother.

[8:36 am] Unfortunately he has that effect on nearly everyone he meets. –M [8:37 am] I do hope you have remembered our dinner plans for this evening? –M

[8:39 am] Hmm…that seems to ring a bell…could you perhaps remind me?

[8:40 am] 7:00.  I will send something suitable for you to wear. I trust you will oblige me in picking something out fetching for you to wear? -M

[8:42 am] I trust that you will select something in good taste, Mycroft, and not something that would cater to the inklings of the male psyche.

[8:43 am] I suppose you shall have to wait and see. –M

[8:44 am] Is that supposed to reassure me?

[9:58 am] My deepest apologies, (Y/N).  I was pulled into a briefing.  I won’t be able to text for much of the day, but do know that I am very much looking forward to seeing you. –M

[10:03 am] Until then.

It was around noontime when there was a quick, tight knock at the door at the bottom of the steps. You perked up, wondering who it could be as you sat there absolutely bored for the rest of the morning.  You had enjoyed your conversation with Mycroft, albeit brief and through text messages and you were absolutely brimming with buzzing energy about the promise of spending time with him tonight.  Sherlock spent the rest of his morning glaring at you.

He rolled his eyes as he pulled himself up from his armchair, pulling his door open before Mrs. Hudson could even knock.  He ripped the package from her hands, slamming the door.  Quirking an eyebrow, you watched as he dramatically flounced around the flat.  He thrust the package into your hands, your eyes lighting up as you looked at the neat cursive on the box.

As you go to open the box, Sherlock sighed heavily, just wanting you to look up.  Indulging him, you saw that he was gathering his belongings, slipping on his suit jacket.

“I’m going to a crime scene.  I’d rather not be here when brother dearest arrives, if he can make it up all these stairs again so soon…if you need anything, don’t contact me.”

There weren’t even words for how you felt about the younger Holmes.  

You carefully opened the sturdy box, being met with tufts of tissue paper.  Digging through, you come across a card made of thick cardstock.

(Y/N),

I do hope this finds you in good health.  I know how my brother can be.  If you would do me the honor of wearing this tonight, it would please me so.  You’ll find that it should fit perfectly.

-M

You held the dress up in front of you, completely enamored with the color, and if you knew anything about Mycroft, you knew it would fit like a glove.  How he knew exactly what your measurements were, you didn’t even want to begin to know. You found a pair of shoes and toiletries as well in the box amongst the paper.

It was just about 7:00 and you were putting the final touches on your appearance.  You commandeered Sherlock’s bathroom, making sure not to leave a mess lest you never hear the end of it.  Neatly folding up the blanket you used last night, you hear a crisp knock on the flat’s door.  How did you miss the downstairs door opening?

Taking a deep breath you walked calmly to the door, trying to calm your nerves.  Why am I nervous?  This is Mycroft.  Exactly.  This. Is.  Mycroft.  Not wanting to keep him waiting, you pulled the door open, revealing the man of the hour. He was dressed in a smart suit, naturally, and the scowl and frown lines from the day seemed to melt away when his eyes met yours.  He looked at you, saying nothing as you felt yourself become flustered.  He offered you his arm which you gladly accepted.  Leaning in, he spoke softly.

“You are…exquisite.”

Next Part!