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ollieofthebeholder · 4 years ago

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

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Chapter 25: Martin Prime

“Well, she was right about one thing,” Jon said dryly, a moment or two after they pulled away from the curb. “I definitely don’t care much for the original Helen Richardson.”

Martin forced a smile, although he knew his heart wasn’t in it. “Our Helen said that, did she?”

“When I was in her domain. Or, well, when I was on her doorstep, anyway. She told me I wouldn’t have—how did she put it? I wouldn’t have liked ‘Helen Classic’ all that much.” Jon sighed. “I’ll give the Distortion credit for that much, anyway. She—it—never really lied to us.”

Martin hummed and turned his face in the direction of the window. “She didn’t need to. Why lie when the truth would disorientate just as well?”

“That’s a fair point. God knows our world was confusing enough as it was. It was never very hard to get us—well, me, I suppose—turned around just by presenting me with a truth I’d never considered before.” Jon went quiet, but it was the sort of quiet he usually got when there was something he wasn’t saying and really ought to.

Ordinarily, Martin would have pried at him, tried to prod him to open up and just be honest, but right about then, he was just too tired. Not physically, mentally. Partly it was the edge of navigating a new place while blind. He’d been at one time intimately familiar with the Archives, and he’d had at least passing familiarity with both Tim’s house and the tunnels, back before. But he’d never been to the house they’d just toured before, had no frame of reference, and he’d decided to go without the cane despite Jon’s objections—he was still sort of learning how to use it properly, since it was mostly trial-and-error on his part, and he’d also got it in his head that Helen would probably be the sort of person to look down on someone visibly disabled like that. The fact that he strongly suspected he was right wasn’t helping his mental energy levels. He’d spent the last—God, four months? Had it actually been that long?—surrounded by people he knew, trusted, and loved, for varying definitions of love, and who reciprocated those feelings. Helen Richardson was the first person he’d interacted with outside of the Archival team, and he hadn’t been prepared for the way she’d acted around him. Around them, really, and he wasn’t sure if it was Jon’s appearance or the fact that they were two men in a relationship or both. That, at least, was something he was well used to—he’d been out since he was fourteen and Jon was by no means his first boyfriend, although he hadn’t really dated much since starting to work at the Institute—but it didn’t make it any less upsetting, or exhausting.

And despite that, despite the fact that she was objectively not a particularly nice person, Martin felt a weariness settle over him as he realized they probably weren’t going to be able to save her. They’d known they probably couldn’t prevent every horrible thing that had happened to the people they knew, of course, but both Jon and Martin were determined to do what they could. And since Helen’s initial statement had been rather…imprecise about how long after her experience it had been before she decided (or, as they’d later learned, was pushed) to come to the Institute and give her statement, they’d decided to see what they could do to warn her, as best they could. It probably wasn’t a surprise that it hadn’t worked. Martin didn’t need any special powers, or indeed the ability to see her face, to know that she’d been deeply skeptical of Jon’s questions about the door. He believed her when she said she hadn’t seen it—Jon had said from the beginning that the Distortion had been lucky to grab her on the first go—but he’d kind of hoped she would at least be on the alert for it, and he somehow didn’t think that was going to be the case. The Spiral was going to target her, and now Martin wondered if they’d inadvertently drawn its attention to her. God knew they’d accelerated enough other things in the timeline.

There was also something else preying on his mind, something fairly major, but he knew better than to bring it up.

Finally, Jon spoke again, in a voice so soft Martin almost couldn’t hear it over the engine. “She was selective about what truths she told me, though. It was easier to remember that when I wasn’t alone.”

Even though he knew it wasn’t meant to be a censure of him, Martin felt a stabbing of guilt in his stomach, and he had to swallow hard before he could answer. “You know I wouldn’t have—”

“I know,” Jon said immediately. Martin felt his touch on the back of his hand and instinctively laced their fingers together. “I could have…I’m not blaming you. I didn’t even realize how hard it was until I was in her domain.”

“Alone,” Martin reminded him. That was the sticking point. Jon wouldn’t have been alone when he faced down Helen if he hadn’t realized how badly Martin didn’t want him to see what his domain was like…or more accurately, what Martin in his domain was like.

“I could have waited for you. I could have gone into your domain and tried to find you. I could have taken the path that avoided Helen entirely and dealt with the spiders. I had options, Martin, and I chose to take the option that led me through Helen’s domain alone. That’s not on you.” Jon forestalled any reply Martin might have had by lifting their joined hands and kissing the back of Martin’s gently. “I don’t care what your mother said to you. You don’t bear the responsibility for anyone but yourself.”

Martin managed a smile. “I love you, you know that?”

“I know.” The smile in Jon’s voice was audible. “I love you, too.”

They lapsed into silence for a while. Martin almost thought that was the end of it, until Jon spoke up again. “Your turn.”

“My turn?” Martin repeated, although he was pretty sure he knew what Jon meant.

“Martin. I don’t need the Eye’s power to know that there’s something on your mind.”

Martin considered denying it, but in his heart of hearts he knew he wasn’t going to do that. They were trying so hard to communicate, and they’d been doing really well at it. He wasn’t going to break that now. Best to just say it and get it over with.

“That took a bit more out of me than I thought it would,” he admitted. “Not just dealing with—pre-Distortion Helen, or, you know, trying to maneuver around a space I didn’t know without being able to see it—”

“I told you to bring your cane.”

“I know, but she was having enough trouble being civil to us as it was. Why make it worse? Not like it would have helped all that much.” Martin sighed. “That’s really only part of it, though. Not even the most significant part, if I’m being honest.” He bit his lip. “I just…I didn’t realize how much I wanted that.”

There was a short pause before Jon spoke, sounding confused. “The house? I-I mean, we can probably buy it, if you really want to.”

This time, Martin’s smile was at least genuine, if small. “Look, Peter Lukas might be a bit oblivious when it comes to technology, and he might have more money than he’ll spend in a lifetime, but even he’d notice a sudden payout of two and a half million pounds to a real estate firm.”

Jon snorted with obvious amusement. “Probably closer to three by the time Helen was done working us over.”

“Point still stands. Anyway, it’s not the house I’m talking about.”

“Then what is it?”

Martin took a deep breath. “It’s just—I never thought about a future for us. I mean, yes, of course I knew by the time we’d been in Scotland for a couple weeks that we were going to spend the rest of our lives together. I-it’s just, well, once the world ended? I never really thought about the rest of our lives actually being that long. Yeah, we had the plan to stop Jonah Magnus and save the world and turn things back the way they were, but—let’s be realistic, Jon, I think we both had it in the back of our minds that we were both going to die. I guess I just never considered the possibility of a future beyond that, because I figured we didn’t have one. I figured the best I could hope for was dying with you and there being a life after death we could spend together. Even when we came back here to fix everything, I—I didn’t really think beyond immediate goals. Stop Jonah, save Tim, save Sasha, save the world. I didn’t think about what might be ahead for us. But then we were in there talking to Helen, and I was listening to you spin that story for her, and—and something just clicked, you know? I suddenly…it suddenly hit me how much I really wanted all of that. How much I want to have that—that future. That life together. A home. A cat.” He swallowed hard. “Kids.”

Jon didn’t say anything for a long moment, and Martin closed his eyes and lowered his head. He shouldn’t have said all that. He should have just left it at wanting them to have a future. He shouldn’t have mentioned how right everything Jon had lied to Helen about felt. It was too much pressure, and God knew Jon probably didn’t want it, didn’t want to risk…now Jon was going to think he had to let Martin down gently. Hell, there was no guarantee Jon even wanted this to be forever. Martin knew he loved Jon, would love him until there was nothing left of either one of them to love, but what if Jon didn’t feel the same way? Especially since most of their relationship had developed while slogging through a literal hellscape. Could they even survive a future free of conflict? But he was trying to get better about not assuming, so he pressed his lips together to keep from saying anything else and tried to fight back the tears.

At last, Jon spoke. “Do you remember the first person who came to give a live statement when we started working in the Archives?”

Leave it to Jon to change the subject rather than break his heart. And of course Martin remembered Naomi Hearn, but—wait. “Right, the—the civil engineer?” He didn’t trust himself to say much beyond that, still trying to get his emotions under control, but he remembered now. The man had found a book he thought might have been deeply cursed and been sent down to the Archives to give his statement. They’d eventually found out that the leather-bound book with its holographic, eerily styled illustrations and weird stains and symbols scattered throughout it was part of an ill-conceived but ultimately harmless viral marketing scheme for an independent horror movie that tanked at the box office and bankrupted the filmmakers.

“Mm-hmm. He brought his daughter with him, and when I came out to give him space to make his statement privately, you were keeping an eye on her for him. I don’t think you saw me—or Tim, for that matter, when he got back in—but I was…captivated. Didn’t know why then, but I just stood there watching you pacing around the Archives singing nonsense songs.”

“Polish,” Martin said softly. Jon was right—he hadn’t seen anyone else there. He’d offered to watch the little girl so she didn’t interfere with the recordings, or get scared, and he honestly hadn’t noticed another soul until the man came back for her. God, he didn’t even remember the man’s name. The girl’s name was Juliana, though. He remembered that mostly because of the children’s song he’d sung at her that had her name in it.

“I should have known. Still…my point stands. It’s…it’s a memory that’s stuck with me.” Jon exhaled. “You’d make an excellent father, Martin. I think I’d like to see that.”

A sudden weight lifted off of Martin’s chest, and he drew what felt like the first free breath he’d drawn in ages, even though it had really only been a few minutes. “Yeah?”

“Very much so,” Jon replied. “I…you’re right. I never let myself consider the future beyond…well, beyond stopping the Apocalypse. But you deserve so much more. We deserve it. So yes, Martin. To all of it. If—when we survive this, I’d like to have that future with you.”

Their fingers were still laced together. Martin turned his hand over and squeezed Jon’s tightly. “You know, that…was not how I imagined proposing to you.”

Jon’s laugh was a balm on the raw edges of Martin’s nerves—warm, affectionate, and maybe a little surprised. “Technically, you didn’t actually propose. You mentioned a lot of things you wanted, but—”

“Fine, you overly-precise bastard.” Martin laughed, too, then turned his head and hoped like hell he was actually looking at Jon. “Jonathan Sims, will you marry me?”

Jon’s hand tightened around Martin’s, and Martin could have sworn there was a hitch in his voice as he replied, “Yes, Martin Blackwood, I will.”

Martin wasn’t sure he’d ever stop smiling, even if his face hurt. “Sorry I don’t have a ring to give you, but…”

“I think I’ll survive,” Jon said dryly. He was audibly smiling, too. “I love you. So very much.”

“I love you, too. More than anything.”

For a moment, Martin let himself be content. They’d had more and more moments of happiness and comfort since coming back in time, and even in the short month they’d been living in the tunnels, emerging at night to let Jon feed off of statements and try to figure out what to do with the table in Artifact Storage without getting caught by Jonah, there were periods of time where they were almost as happy as they’d been in Scotland. But this moment right here? Sitting in a car with his boyfriend—his fiancé—and talking about a future Martin couldn’t have even imagined was possible even a year ago? This was the closest thing to heaven he thought he’d known since the first time Jon said I love you.

So, naturally, it all went to hell almost immediately.

Martin couldn’t even really say for sure what happened. He just felt the sudden waves of tension coming off of Jon. Jon’s fingers clenched briefly around Martin’s, then slowly relaxed and slid away. It was all done carefully and naturally, but Martin knew something was wrong. He fought down the instinct to apologize—the lingering remnants of his mother’s conditioning. It wasn’t always his fault and he knew that. He knew he hadn’t done anything wrong. Which meant that whatever was upsetting Jon was something external.

“Jon?” he asked carefully, worried and maybe a little afraid. “What’s wrong?”

Jon took a slow, even breath, which told Martin he’d maybe considered saying nothing before remembering that they were being honest with each other. “We’re being followed.”

“Oh.” Martin rested his hands on his lap and tried to resist the urge to bunch his trousers up in his hands. “By who?”

“It’s a police car. Which I know isn’t all that helpful, all things considered, but I’m reluctant to use the Beholding’s power more than I have to, so I don’t know who’s in it. It could be just a regular police officer on patrol who thinks we’re out of place in the area. It could be a complete coincidence. But it’s beginning to get dark and this isn’t a well-populated area.”

Martin swallowed. “So what are you going to do?”

Jon took another deep breath. “I am going to obey the exact speed limit and—”

The single whoop of the siren made Martin jump, and Jon sighed. “Shit.”

“They want us to pull over, whoever they are,” Martin guessed.

“I am pulling over.” Jon paused. “Martin, just—please let me handle this. Promise me you won’t—just, please.”

Martin fought back his instinctive response and nodded. “Okay, Jon. I promise.”

“Thank you,” Jon said softly.

Martin forced himself to sit still and stare straight ahead, even as he heard the faint squeaking of the window rolling down and Jon’s voice of forced calm. “Good evening, Officer.”

“License and registration,” a voice said. Martin bit back the gasp that instinctively rose in his throat. He knew that voice, even though he hadn’t heard it in a while—low and faintly menacing, unmistakably one Detective Alice “Daisy” Tonner, still part of both the police force and the Hunt.

There was a sound of fumbling, and then a short pause before Daisy said, “Know why I pulled you over?”

Martin could guess, but he’d promised to keep his mouth shut, and he knew why Jon had asked—begged, really. Even with a regular police officer, if Martin mouthed off to them, Jon would likely take the brunt of it. And with Daisy, that would be worse. Jon was likely hoping to protect Martin, but Martin would do whatever he had to in order to keep Jon safe, too.

“I’m afraid I don’t.” Jon was still keeping his voice even, but Martin could hear that it was shaking, just a little.

“Step out of the car.”

Martin stiffened as fear shot through him. This isn’t a well-populated area. Was it secluded enough, abandoned enough, that Daisy might do something to Jon? Even with him sitting right there? Quickly, he chastised himself. That wasn’t the Hunt, that would be the Slaughter—purposeless violence, violence for violence’s sake. The Hunt was about the chase, the tracking and following. Prey that did what you wanted it to wasn’t very interesting, and even if Daisy had sensed Jon wasn’t fully human, she wouldn’t hurt him the first time she met him. She would threaten him, let him know she was on to him…

He had to try very hard to keep his breathing even and keep from climbing out of the car himself when he heard Jon’s door shut. The window was still down, so he could hear Jon’s voice, a bit fainter but still audible. “What is this about, D—Officer?”

“You really can’t guess?” Martin had to strain hard to hear Daisy, and he tried to breathe as lightly as possible so he wouldn’t miss anything. “Let’s start with what you’re doing in this neighborhood.”

“We had an appointment to view a house.”

“That I’m sure you can’t afford. Doubt the Magnus Institute pays that well.” There was a faint hint of malicious satisfaction in Daisy’s voice, Martin thought, and she probably had that sharp, smug little smile of hers.

“There’s no law against looking, even if we won’t be able to buy,” Jon said. “A-and there’s always a chance we could manage it together. There’s—there’s a lot we can do together.”

Martin noticed then that Jon was putting slight stress on we. Like he was reminding Daisy that he wasn’t alone. He clenched his hands into fists to stop them from shaking as he listened. The knowledge that Daisy was the only person who’d tried to help Jon when Martin couldn’t had made him try to trust her, and he’d thought a lot over the last however long it had been about her lowering her gun and letting Elias live rather than risk Basira dying, but try as he might, he could never shake the memory of Jon standing in that office, disheveled, frightened, and neck still tacky with blood. This Daisy wasn’t their Daisy, the one who’d forced Jon to listen to The Archers to ground him to humanity or asked Basira to find her and kill her once she’d saved the Institute. This was the one who would shoot Jon, or slit his throat, and not lose a moment’s sleep over it. God only knew what she’d do to Martin, even though he was—in theory anyway—human.

“Mm-hmm. Of course,” Daisy replied. “And you certainly didn’t have any…designs on anyone in the neighborhood.”

“I don’t mean harm to anyone.”

“Sure you don’t. Does the real Jonathan Sims know you have his car?”

Martin’s body ran cold. He knew Daisy hadn’t met Jon this quickly after Basira’s first visit to the Archives—she’d come with the third tape—so there was no way she knew the Jon in this timeline either. She couldn’t possibly. How could she know—?

“I am Jonathan Sims,” Jon insisted.

“Uh-huh. And who’s in the car with you?”

“My fiancé.” The pride in Jon’s voice overrode his fear, just for a moment, and Martin’s lips twitched involuntarily. Jon had always taken an inordinate amount of delight in claiming Martin as his boyfriend, regardless of the tone whoever they encountered addressed them in; he should have known Jon would be even more thrilled to tell people they were engaged. Fleetingly, he wondered what the Archival team would think of it, or if they were going to mention it before everything was over. He didn’t think Jon would manage to keep it a secret.

“He have a name?”

“Of course he does.”

A faint growl came from somewhere, and the hair on the back of Martin’s neck stood up. There had been a time when he would have considered his inner animal or daemon or Patronus or whatever you wanted to call it to be some sort of small squeaky mammal, because growing up, whenever he came up against a choice between fight, flight, or freeze, his body inevitably chose to freeze, or more accurately to curl in on itself and fight the urge to cry because that made things worse. Since escaping his mother’s clutches, and even more since becoming part of the Archives, he’d drifted towards a weird blend of fight and freeze that usually manifested in him getting angry and doing something stupid. That growl, though, made him want to hunker down in the grass and pray not to be seen. Not even metaphorically. He shrank back against the seat and swallowed hard, willing Jon with all his heart to get back in the damn car already.

The sudden sharp rap on the window right next to Martin’s ear made him almost jump out of his skin, and he couldn’t stop his frightened gasp this time. It took him a second to realize he was probably expected to put down his window. He fumbled for the crank and managed to wind it down.

“Step out of the car,” Daisy’s voice ordered.

Martin scrambled to get the safety belt undone, then reached for the car door to open it. He gave a fleeting thought to his cane, but he couldn’t quite remember if he’d brought it with him or left it at Tim’s house when they’d borrowed Past Jon’s car and he didn’t think he had the time to ask. The door suddenly jerked from his hand, nearly sending him tumbling to the ground. He only barely managed to keep himself steady and get out without falling.

Keep your mouth shut, keep your mouth shut, he chanted to himself as he braced himself against the roof of the car. This could still go badly for Jon—for both of them, really, but if Martin mouthed off Daisy was likely to take it out on Jon.

“On the curb,” Daisy ordered.

Martin nodded, making what he hoped were being taken as noises of agreement, and started around the car, keeping one hand on it to make sure he didn’t wander off into the street and get run over. Jon had mentioned it was starting to get dark. Besides, the last thing he wanted was Daisy to think he was trying to run.

“Leave him out of this.” Jon sounded more scared than Martin thought he’d heard him since they’d been separated in the Lonely house. “He hasn’t done—”

“Shut up,” Daisy growled. She—or something, anyway—prodded Martin sharply between the shoulder blades. “Hurry up.”

Martin’s hip slammed into the side of the car. He bit back a grunt of pain and tried to pick up the pace, but moving faster meant he didn’t have time to figure out what was ahead of him and he almost tripped over the curb when he finally reached it. The slap of his hand on the car’s hood echoed loudly—which was good, he supposed, it meant there was something for the sound to echo off of, which meant they weren’t in a completely isolated area—and he pulled himself onto the sidewalk and edged around the car. He bumped into the mirror and stopped moving. Daisy would tell him if she wanted him somewhere else. He hoped.

“Jon?” he whispered as loud as he dared. Hopefully he was still quiet enough to cover the thin edge of panic.

“I’m here, Martin,” Jon whispered back. It wasn’t soft enough to cover his panic, or maybe Martin just knew him well enough to hear it. He doubted that, though. Jon had admitted, simultaneously not long ago and forever ago, that what Daisy had put him through was still one of the most terrifying things he’d experienced, and even though they’d later become friends, it was hard to forget what she’d nearly done. And this was the Daisy who would do that. Add in the fact that Martin was here, and far more vulnerable than Jon was, and it was going to terrify him.

Martin took a deep, steadying breath. He had to hold it together. He had to. If Jon was that scared, the last thing he needed was to know how scared Martin was.

“What’s your name?” Daisy demanded.

“Martin Blackwood,” Martin answered, managing to keep his voice even.

“Oh, interesting. I don’t suppose you’ve got any ID on you to prove that.”

Martin pressed his lips together hard for a moment. He might, actually; his wallet was somewhere in one of their bags, unless he’d lost it slogging through the Apocalypse, and they’d made sure to bring everything out of the tunnels with them, just in case Leitner went snooping around and tried to do something. But there would be a lot of digging around involved in that. “Not handy, sorry.”

Daisy’s snort was close enough that the air from it curled against Martin’s cheek, and he flinched. He hadn’t realized she was so nearby. “Of course not. That would be easy, wouldn’t it?”

Martin swallowed back his instinctive response and kept as still as he could. He strained his every sense to listen, but apart from the usual sounds of a late summer evening, he couldn’t hear anything. Daisy could be right next to him, or right in front of him, or right in front of Jon. She could be anywhere, doing anything, and it set his every nerve on edge.

“So,” Daisy said finally. It sounded like she’d moved, but Martin couldn’t quite tell where she was. “The two of you are claiming to be half the staff from the Archives at the Magnus Institute. You’re driving around a tony neighborhood where neither you nor the people you’re pretending to be belong. And you’ve stolen car and ID. If I were to call the Magnus Institute, I wonder what I would learn?”

“Likely nothing. I-it’s well past closing time,” Jon answered. He sounded a little breathless. Something brushed against Martin’s hand, and he almost jumped before his mind registered the familiar feel of the roughness and slight ridges of Jon’s worm-scarred hand. He flexed his fingers slightly, and Jon gripped him like a dying man might grasp a lifeline. Martin rubbed his thumb over the back of Jon’s hand as gently as he could, hoping to give him at least a little comfort.

“Hmm. Then maybe I should reach out directly. Or maybe…” Daisy’s voice shifted slightly, and Jon gave a small, frightened gasp and tightened his grip on Martin’s hand, which set Martin’s heart rate kicking into overdrive. “Maybe I should just handle things now.”

“Y-you wouldn’t.” Jon was obviously trying to sound confident, but the fear overrode everything. “Not here. N-not so close to—people. Whatever I am, Martin isn’t—”

“What gave you that scar?” Daisy demanded.

“I—I have—”

“That one,” Daisy growled, and Jon let out a choked gurgle that told Martin she’d probably jabbed a finger into his throat. “Looks like something already tried to shut you up.”

“You did,” Jon gasped.

There was a long pause, and Martin heard a faint crunching noise, like Daisy had taken a step back. “What?” she said in a low, dangerous voice.

“Not now.” Jon’s breath was coming in short, panting gasps, like he’d been running—or like when they’d been in Scotland, when he’d woken from the worst of the nightmares. Martin wanted to wrap him up and soothe him, but he couldn’t, not here, not now. “We’re—we’re from the future. We’re here to—to stop something awful from happening.”

“Oh, what, the end of the world?” Was there maybe a little bit of uncertainty in Daisy’s voice?

“Yes. Actually. The world ends and—and so many people died. You died. You—we were friends. Later.” Jon sounded a little desperate. “I-I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true, Daisy, I swear it.”

Daisy inhaled sharply. “What did you just call me?”

“D—oh, shit.” If Jon squeezed Martin’s hand any harder, he was going to break Martin’s fingers or his own or both. “I—look, I told you, we knew each other in our timeline. Your name is Detective Alice Tonner, but everyone calls you Daisy. You don’t really tell people why, but i-it’s because of the scar on your back. I—we know you. We’re here to save you. You, and Basira, and—and everyone else.”

The silence stretched on so long that Martin wanted to scream—anything to fill it. He wanted to bundle Jon back into the car and get out of there. He wished, more strongly than he’d wished in ages, that he could see, so he could see to get them away, to know if they were safe, to make them safe. He didn’t know what Daisy was about to do and he couldn’t anticipate it without being able to see her. And of course the Hunt would keep her hidden from anyone who couldn’t see her, so he couldn’t even hear where she might be.

Finally, Daisy growled, “Whoever you are—whatever you are—I’ll let you go. This time. But if we ever cross paths again, monster…you’re mine.”

A door slammed, making Martin jump again. An engine revved, tires squealed, and then it was just the sounds of a summer night and Jon’s desperate bid for air.

“Jon?” Martin managed to maneuver around the mirror and reach for Jon with his free hand.

Jon latched onto Martin even more tightly than he had during the thunderstorm, his arms wrapped around Martin’s neck and his face buried in his chest and his body pressed so close to him it almost hurt. Martin wrapped him up securely in a hug and rocked him back and forth, trying to murmur soothing words, but they got stuck in his throat. He was only just realizing how scared he’d actually been.

“Jon, I’m here, I’m here,” he said instead, clinging to his boyfriend—his fiancé—to reassure himself that he was still there. It had been one thing to hear Jon tell him later about Daisy holding a knife to his throat in the woods, another to see that portrait of her menacing him, but living the moment they’d just lived through…

Martin realized that he’d never truly been afraid of Daisy. Not really. He’d had a hard time trusting her, he’d been angry about what she’d done, or nearly done, to Jon, but he’d never actually been afraid to be in a room with her, even when she’d been in full cop mode all but accusing him of being an accessory after the fact to murder. This was probably the first time Martin really, truly realized how close Jon had come to dying in that forest. How scared he must have been. How hard it must have been to trust her after that, to call her a friend. It was sobering. And humbling. And terrifying as fuck.

“She still scares me,” Jon whispered into Martin’s shoulder. “I meant what I said, we were friends, I cared about her. I did. I trusted her. But…”

“But she was the only person who could hurt you after the Apocalypse for a reason,” Martin murmured.

“Not the only one. Just the only one who would.”

Martin blinked hard, then decided to unpack that later. “We’re—we’re safe now. For now. We’re safe for now. It’s okay, Jon, we’re both here. We’re here. She won’t—she didn’t—” He pressed a kiss to the top of Jon’s head and tried not to cry.

He couldn’t fall apart. He had to be the strong one. He was good at that, at pushing down his emotions and being the steady one. The hardest part of being with Jon had been learning to lean on Jon too, to let himself have emotions and weaknesses and moments where he was the one being held and comforted. And this was a situation, a tiny part of his brain clinging to rationality told him, where they could, and probably should, lean on each other. They both needed comfort, they both needed reassurance. But Martin had been pushed too far in his fear, and when he went this far, he defaulted into caretaker mode. He could fall apart later, when he was alone and had the time, even though he knew he would never be alone, Mum would make sure of that, and even if he was alone he’d have so much he had to do, there would never be time…

“Let’s get out of here,” Jon choked out.

Martin didn’t want to let go of him, but he eased back anyway. Jon didn’t let go of his hand, either, instead leading him around the car and opening the door for him. Even then, he didn’t let go of Martin’s hand, but climbed into the passenger seat.

“Jon, I cannot drive us,” Martin protested, even though instinct was telling him to do exactly that. Jon’s upset, he won’t be able to concentrate, you need to get us home safe…no, he needed to remember that he was blind and that, even in the throes of a panic attack, Jon would get them back to Tim’s safer than Martin would.

“No, I just—come on.” Jon tugged on Martin’s hand, which he hadn’t let go of, and as Martin ducked under the roof of the car, he heard grunts and rustling noises and realized what was going on. Jon had climbed over the center console from the passenger’s seat rather than let go of Martin’s hand for an instant.

Neither of them bothered with the safety belts, and Jon kept a tight hold of Martin’s hand even as he managed to put the car into gear. They didn’t speak the rest of the drive. Martin couldn’t tell how fast they were going, but it hardly seemed like they’d been driving any time at all before the engine cut out, and then Jon was crawling back across the console and into Martin’s lap.

They clung to each other tightly. Martin could feel Jon shaking, and honestly he wasn’t doing much better himself. He tried to hold back the tears—he didn’t have the right to be scared, not like Jon did, she hadn’t really been threatening him—but then Jon whispered brokenly, “I thought I was going to lose you,” and Martin’s control shattered.

“You thought—Jon, I thought she was going to—” Martin choked off the words and tightened his arms around Jon, hoping he’d tell him if he was hurting him. “You were—she could have—a-and I couldn’t see her, I didn’t know where she was, I—God, Jon, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“Are you okay?” Jon parried. “I-I couldn’t—when she told you to get out of the car, I—I didn’t want to—I was afraid to Know anything about her, I didn’t want her to sense it and—I know you couldn’t, not really, b-but she’s part of the Hunt and her whole thing is hunting monsters and—oh, God. I was afraid she was going to hurt you to punish me and—a-are you okay?”

Martin tried to figure out how to answer that question and finally said, “She didn’t hurt me. And I asked you first.”

Jon made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I don’t know. I asked how you were because I—I can’t be okay if you’re not okay.”

“Yeah, that goes both ways,” Martin said. He managed a shaky laugh and added, “Weirdly, despite the fact that I’m an absolute mess over here, I’m feeling better than I did before.”

“I-I know. You…you don’t let yourself…” Jon broke off. “I know.”

A long silence settled between them, broken only by Jon’s choked, stuttered breathing as he tried not to burst into tears. Martin could feel the panicked flutter of Jon’s heart in his chest, and he knew he was crying too, but them being together and alive and safe, or at least relatively safe, went a long way towards calming him. He rubbed Jon’s back, grimacing at the unfamiliar feel of thin silk barely masking the ridged scars that still mottled Jon’s back.

“You don’t feel right,” he said without really thinking about it.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized how they sounded, but before he could take them back, Jon huffed lightly. “Neither do you. L-let’s—if they’re home, m-maybe Tim will let us change back into our regular clothes before we head back. I—I’d rather wear your sweater. I-it makes me feel safe.”

God, how was it possible to love this man any more than he already did? Martin pressed his lips to the top of Jon’s head, then nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

It took a bit of awkward gymnastics for them to get out of the car without letting go of one another, or falling to the ground, and Jon wrapped his arm around Martin’s waist as soon as they were both standing upright. He fished one of their bags out of the backseat—Martin presumed—and the two of them shuffled up to the house like some sort of odd four-legged creature. Their height difference made it hard, but Martin understood. He didn’t want Jon that far away from him, either.

He’d thought they probably still looked fairly presentable, but that idea was dispelled when they stumbled into the kitchen to be greeted by Tim’s shocked and horrified shout of “Jesus Christ!”

“Are you all right? What happened?” The only reason Martin knew it was Past Jon asking and not his Jon was because it was coming from the wrong direction.

“Here, sit down,” Past Martin added. “Let me—um, I can get some tea—”

“It’s fine. We’re fine,” Jon said, despite all evidence. “Just—we’re fine. Tim, can we—borrow your room to change?”

It was probably a mark of how worried Tim was that he didn’t reply with something along the lines of No, you have to strip right here in the kitchen. “Sure. You know where it is. We’ll—go get comfortable.”

“Thanks, Tim,” Martin said softly as he and Jon headed through the kitchen.

They made it to Tim’s room without too much difficulty, and by the time they reached it, Martin guessed they’d both calmed down enough that they didn’t have to be attached completely—which was good, since that would have made getting changed awkward. That didn’t mean they wanted to be far away from each other, though. Martin sat on the edge of Tim’s bed and listened to Jon rummaging around in the bag for clothes while he undid the first couple of buttons on his too-stiff shirt, then paused. An idea began to form in his head.

When Jon came over and draped a sweater in his lap, Martin reached out and caught Jon’s wrist gently before he could move back. “Will you let me help you?”

He would have given almost anything to be able to see how Jon was looking at him just then. Was it confusion or resignation or annoyance? When Jon spoke, though, it was in a voice that was soft and laden with affection. “Only if you let me help you in return.”

Martin nodded. “I’d like that.”

There was a bit of fumbling and murmured apologizing, but they managed to arrange things so that Martin could undo the buttons on Jon’s shirt while Jon unbuttoned Martin’s. It was something they’d done before, although not since coming back to the past, but Martin remembered the first week they’d been in Scotland when he’d managed to convince Jon to come on a walk with him and they’d been caught in a sudden rainstorm. They’d run back to the safe house breathless and dripping, both of them fussing at the other to get out of their wet clothes before they got pneumonia, and they’d both moved in to help each other at the same time. By the end of it, their cheeks had hurt from laughter and Martin’s shirt was missing two buttons, but since it had been the shirt he’d worn to work the day everything happened—just like the shirt Jon had been wearing had been—they’d agreed it was no great loss.

This felt different. Well, it was different. That had been two men just starting to feel out the edges of their relationship, coming out of a time of stress and uncertainty and into what they’d thought would be a time of peace, struggling to find their place in the world and how they fit in around each other. This was…well, it was two men who’d been through literal hell together and come out the other side, who knew what they were to each other. It was about taking care of each other, but it was also about reassuring themselves that the other was there and whole and well. They took a little more care with getting each other’s shirts off, partly out of respect for the quality of the shirts—although Martin was already silently wagering with himself about whether they’d ever be able to wear them without thinking about Daisy threatening them—and partly because they were both still more scared than they were willing to admit. Martin could tell exactly how scared Jon was when he stepped forward and silently embraced Martin instead of getting dressed again once their button-downs were off.

“Are you all right?” he asked again. His voice was soft and raw.

Martin hugged Jon back, pressing their foreheads together and soaking in the calm that Jon’s presence could always draw in him, no matter the circumstances. He nodded slowly. “Getting there. You?”

“I will be.” Jon shifted the angle and kissed Martin, warmly and tenderly, then pulled back with a small sigh. “Let’s finish getting dressed and go…I don’t know, apologize?”

“I don’t think they’ll let us, but we should probably at least warn them,” Martin said slowly. He was reluctant to let go of Jon, even though they’d both at least stopped shaking. “You know, in case Daisy thinks we’re…actually them?”

“I—I don’t think she does, but you’re right, we should.”

It was probably too warm for sweaters, but the tunnels were underground and made of stone, so they stayed cool year-round. Besides, as Jon had said, the weight was comforting. Martin pulled on the sweater and changed his trousers, then waited while Jon repacked their bag. They were still wrapped around each other when they headed back to meet the others, but at least they were a bit steadier.

That was always the way, though. They were partners; they held one another up, supported one another, steadied and anchored one another. No matter how bad or scary things got, there was nothing they couldn’t face if they held onto one another and stayed together.

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #police brutality cw #panic attacks cw #this was another rough chapter y'all

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lonelyaligned · 3 years ago

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Hiraeth

So here it is! It's not done, I'll probably work on it for a while, or make a series I'm not sure yet.

But I'm very proud of it, I used to write all the time when I was younger, it really helped me work through trauma and other things. So I am very proud to show you my latest maladaptive daydream that is: What if Somewhere Else really existed, what would happen and why would I make the first few chapters pure angst? OR 'Hiraeth' One of my favourite welsh words to describe a form of homesickness for somewhere that doesn't exist, or you can never go to. Seemed appropriate. Not sure if this is a 'make better' fic or a 'at least it's not as bad' one.

Please go check it out over on my ao3 and check out my tma brain rot tiktok @//lonelyaligned too

or read under the cut <3

disclaimer: I'm a dyslexic chronically ill adhd person, so I may be flakey with the old grammar/spelling etc, do excuse me

Around them the panopticon rumbles, distorting and glitching like an old TV screen, an eerie halo of eyes surrounds Jon, inky black tears streaked his face. Martin had seen this before while he was doing a statement. The other man stood, warm tears streaming down his grubby face.

“I’m not leaving you trapped here killing the world while I watch!” he shouts, gesturing to the crumbling room. Loud painful static sounds from all around them while Jon stares on, eyes an unsettlingly vivid green.

“If you stay, you’ll die!” Jon shouts back, his voice distorting.

“Then I’ll die…” Martin responds, standing defiantly in front of him, he flings his arms out beside him as he speaks.

“No!” Jon quickly responds, losing Martin was one of the worst things he could imagine, but he'll lose him either way possibly. Jon knows he’s a monster, he couldn’t pull Martin down any further than he already has. Jon screams in pain as he feels the Institute ripping apart, tearing him from it.

Part of the ceiling between them cracks and falls, large chunks of Victorian masonry come crashing down. Jon manages to step back in time, his reflexes faster than his partners. Part of a large block catches Martin on the shoulder, blood starts staining his dirty woollen jumper after a few moments. He grabs his shoulder in pain and cries out. He can’t imagine anything worse than losing Jon… again.

Jon closes some of the space between them, “Martin, please! I can’t lose you. Not like this…” he reaches out a hand, going to touch Martin’s uninjured shoulder.

Martin flinches away angrily “Tough! Okay? Where you go, I go!” he winces through gritted teeth, the tears start welling up again, he feels the uncomfortable lump rise in his throat as he chokes back a sob.

The static around them grows louder and angrier, whining at a pitch that makes Martin’s head spin. Jon’s arm falls back to his side and he looks at Martin, taking in his hair, strawberry blonde in a mess of curls, the freckles hidden under the soot and dirt on his face, his glasses which by now have a large fracturing crack through one lens. The bulk and softness of his form, his arms which held Jon through so many nightmares and the hands which held his own through the past gods know how long in the hellscape outside of these walls. He knew he may never see him again.

Jon sighs, “That’s the deal…” the static grows more, swallowing almost every other sound, “Okay” he says, gently nodding.

Martin looks at him, worried and slightly confused, “What?”, he reaches out a hand to Jon, who accepts it on his own. Jon’s hand is warm and feels almost like it’s vibrating with energy, like the feeling of static.

Jon turned his head, looking towards the still figure behind him, “Do it! The knife’s just there. Let them go.” At this Martin pulls him closer, his eyes wide and tearful.

“I’m not going to kill you!” he shouts in anger and surprise, tears falling down his cheeks again.

“Cut the tether. Send them away.” Jon says, his voice strained from the pain, “Maybe we both die. Probably. But maybe not.” He looks Martin in the eye as he talks, “Maybe, maybe everything works out, and we end up somewhere else.” he lets go of his hand, Martin is reluctant to let go, he tries to pull Jon closer again.

“Together?” he sniffs, trying to hold himself together but he feels closer and closer to breaking down and just clinging to Jon as the building collapses. Jon releases his hand and turns around, making his way over to Jonah’s prone body. He scoops up the knife with a clink as it leaves the marble floor. He’s close to crying himself, he takes this moment to try to compose himself for Martin.

“One way or another. Together” Jon says with his back turned to Martin, gripping the knife tighter. Martin walks over to him, being careful not to trip on chunks of stone, trying to not look at the lifeless body of his former boss in front of Jon. He reaches out and touches Jon’s waist, “I don’t think I can…” he says almost defeated, the other man turns around, his eyes flickering a brighter green.

“It has to be you. The Eye won’t let me do it.” Jon says cupping a hand to Martin’s damp cheek, his thumb strokes away a tear as it falls. Martin squeezes his eyes shut and presses his cheek closer and closer to Jon’s hand. He leans his head forward to meet Jon’s forehead, his hand reaching out for the knife.

“Are you sure about this?” Martin sobs, Jon closes his eyes, with both their hands on the knife he guides Martin’s hand up to his chest.

“No.” Jon tries hard to not let his voice quiver, Martin's breath catches in his throat as he tries to calm his breathing down, “But I love you,” Jon says moving his hand to Martin’s chin, tilting his head gently so he’s looking him in the eye. As he says this Martin’s fear starts to melt away, maybe Jon is right and they’ll end up somewhere safer together, maybe he’s wrong but he knows, either way, they will be together.

“I love you too.” Martin chokes out, Jon reaches up and plants a kiss on Martin’s warm but chapped lips. Martin sinks into the kiss and pushes the knife in, guided by Jon. Jon’s lips part from the kiss with a pained gasp as a hot patch of red blossoms under his grey t-shirt. Martin lets go and starts to cry now, Jon’s legs give way from beneath him as his breathing becomes rapid and shallow.

The static hisses and glitches rapidly around the room, pained and angry. The green in Jon’s eyes turns to grey as he watches Martin’s face, he always wants this to be the last thing he sees. Martin gently folds to the ground, letting Jon fall, the knife still protruding out of his chest. The sticky blood on his shirt almost completely changed its colour. Martin cradles his head in his lap, one hand stroking Jon’s scruffy dark brown hair, he watches the glitter of the grey patches which run throughout it. Jon always joked it made people think he was older than he was.

The static becomes deafening as the ominously glowing halo of eyes around his head distorts and disappears. Jon blinks tears from his eyes, his vision goes in and out of darkness, he finds it harder and harder to focus on Martin’s face. His eyes return to their human deep brown as the static crescendos. Around the pair, a blinding white light appears and then suddenly vanishes along with the static. Jon’s eyes close as Martin pulls him even closer, he doesn’t even notice the door swing open as the darkness quickly enveloped the room.

--------------------

10 minutes earlier, the tunnels under the institute

-------------------

Basira opened the last of the gas valves, “That should do it” she says, Georgie absentmindedly nods. She, Melanie and Basira all have t-shirts tied around their faces as makeshift masks.

“I can’t believe him…” she scoffs, looking upwards towards the Panopticon, “W-well actually I can. But I mean seriously? Just leave everyone else to clean up his mess as he galivants off towards certain doom. Classic fucking Jonathan Sims”

“Just be glad Martin already thought of this,” Basira says.

“Are you done now, I really don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to?” Melanie says, she leans against the tunnel wall, it’s cool and firm, Georgie reaches out and grabs the woman’s hand in hers. “We’re done, let’s get out of he-” she’s cut off as the tunnel walls start to rumble and shake, dust pours down from the ceiling. “Oh fuck sake he’s done it already, okay come on” She pulls Melanie towards the exit, Basira follows them, the webbed lighter in her hand. They reached the door to the stairs and she set fire to the book they had with them, the last Leitner.

“Feels almost right that a burning book should bring down this place,” she says as she throws it as far as she can down the corridor before shutting the door and running up the stairs. It only takes a few moments for the gas to ignite and the blast sends the three of them crashing up the stairs. Georgie and Melanie had a head start, Basira got caught on her leg by a falling piece of rubble.

“Just run, I’ll find you” the woman shouts up to them, her voice getting lost in the roar of static around them.

Melanie kept one hand on the wall and the other firmly in Georgies. She felt glad that the steps out of this tunnel were even and uniform, not like some of the others which were uneven and worn over time. The static whirling around her head reminded her of the pain and noise she heard when she ‘quit’. The pained scream of the Eye as it was ripped away from this reality made her grit her teeth and just run harder.

“Come on, we’re almost there I think” Georgie shouted, she wasn’t sure though as she didn’t recognise this part of the staircase. She knew it wasn’t the same one they entered in but it felt like it was going on too long. They were going up too high, they should definitely have been at ground level by now.

They could hear others shouting in the distance, the static grew louder. They could recognise Martin’s voice carrying above the noise, Georgie’s pace slowed slightly, they shouldn’t be up the top of the panopticon, “Wait a sec,” she whispered, pulling Melanie’s arm to get her to stop, “Something wrong?” Melanie asked.

“I.. I don’t know where we are. We should have left the staircase a while back” The floor continued to shake and rumble beneath them, they could feel the heat from the fire making its way up, smoke curled a few steps down, licking at their feet. They couldn’t hear the shouting anymore, but as they ascended what happened to be the last few steps, the screeching static grew until they could almost bear it no longer. Melanie tripped on a step, holding her hands to her ears, tears fell down her face. “Make it stop!” she cried.

“Melanie please, come on, we have to go.” Georgie tugged on her arm, when she turned around she was standing in front of a door, bright white light streamed from around the frame. As Georgie puts a hand on the doorknob, the noise and light suddenly vanish, leaving a deafening silence behind. Melanie gasped, relieved and shocked.

Georgie pushed the door open.

#the magnus archives #jon sims #jonathan sims #tma #martin blackwood #jonmartin #the magnus institute #georgie barker #melanie king #the archivist is chronically ill #make better fic #hiraeth fic

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smallestclowninthecircus · 3 years ago

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Season 4 notes

Ep 121: mmmm tape recorder turning on without them knowing goes brrr. AAAhjhdsjfhjdf "do you mind if i call you jon" its like "can i call you elias?" is this the dream guy with the tendrils? who wants to bet the boat is captained by peter lukas? big man if it killed yall how are you still here. oh boy the tape is doin that thing. who do we think it is? did he wake up? hmm. ep 122: lol jon. 6 months!?!? bruh quit movin big man. he just Knows things sometimes you know how it is. nah b/c i can relate to feeling like other ppl/ things arent real, thats the biggest mood BUT i think it is kinda pretentious to entertain the idea that youre the only Real person. If you dont see a body dont believe it. i'll hold out hope for a bit. theres not a new archivist is there? surely i wouldve heard about that. oh god peter what changes did you make. ep 123: web development. hope its about spiders. she blames him. bruh why. if they hadnt done anything the world would've ended piss off melanie. why are ppl acting like he chose to be in a coma for 6 months. we know this they just appear. no longer "head archivist of the magnus institute, london" now he's just "the archivist" covered in spiders? cuz ik the spider has to do with controlling what youre doing and all this stuff but i cant think of how this connects to that. ep 124: ugh vertigo. is michael crew an old man? oooh. fairchild. how did he know it was martin? hmm. GRR I LOST MY NOTES AGAIN. FROM EPISODE 125 - part of 131. ep 131: bruh he's so hard to understand big man ur voice is so low. Jared Hotworth. the boneturner. "the ones i helped find their proper bodies" name a better top surgeon? our favorite trans ally? ep 132: woo field trip into the coffin! static lol. he says "chill out im just poppin in for a quick recall mission" is the rib thing actually gonna work? bruh it feels so odd and contrived but he's an odd man with some odd powers so idk. rip that archivist ayyy statement time. voices? recordings? are those tape recorders? was it the tape recorders? did they pull him back? i hope so b/c if the rib thing actually worked im gonna be so disappointed. ep 133: predicting the lonely? tundra. like the lukases. hmm. sanikova! like sanikov land. so its the hunt? i suppose? yeah. so daisy's clearly rejecting the hunt, which makes sense cuz she doesnt seem to like the entities that much. wait so are we just not gonna talk abt all the tapes playing on the ground?? no? ep 134: not an archival assistant anymore? Adelard Decker (or however you spell it) i recognize that name. 15th power. i was right there are 15. the extinction? im trying to remember what ive heard. oooh spooky. no i gotta be real i dont understand this fear but i'll believe you that its a thing. ew lukas is so squealy. lukas can turn invisible? oh boy. oooh martin put the tape recorders there. lol lukas is worried he's gonna be an avatar of the eye. ep 135: yoo its the third Daedalus statement! maxwell rayner (reiner? reigner?) i dont know who that is but ik its somebody. is he the cult leader guy? church of the divine host? 4 people?? what? did they kidnap somebody and keep them up there?? oh dear jon are you dying? did he try to See or Know or whatever? why does everyone call basira detective lol. ep 136: he was the one from the spider movie that ate ppl right? the special effects artist? is it annabelle cane? "its a joke jon" lol. hmm they wanted to record the therapy session with melanie? i wonder who that is. i almost wanna guess annabelle cane but im not sure. ep 137: this is the one! he went to the other place and read the war statement but it wasnt the one she took. not the music again. sounds like the slaughter. who the heck is eric lol. "the watcher's crown" like the crown of eyes we saw in the piccrew ep 138: oh boy Robert Smirk time. is that elias? as unhelpful as usual. if new powers can be "born" can others die out? did jonah magnus wear the watchers crown? maybe they were born from our fear or maybe our fears were born from them. ceaseless watcher does ceaselessly watch so. idk what you want

big man. yeah jonah for sure did something. ep 139: agnes!! lol that one dude threw off all their plans thats so funny. BUT this does tell us something. the tree in the backyard of the hilltop house? not made by her. it going down didnt kill agnes. im guessing gertrude tied agnes to the house using the tree? u good jon? cuz every time you try to Know smth intentionally it seems like it causes you great pain. how come he can do it accidentally with no problem but the second he wants to know smth of plot relevance he gets a headache or whatever ep 140: lol pagan exultation. classic. "oh thats my rib" lmaoo. ppl are always so mad at jon and his Eye powers except when it benefits them. they're like "oh you shouldnt do that its not right" and then all of a sudden they want to know something and its all "oh cmon jon its the only way" ep 142: oh god jon what did you do. its interesting she's giving her statement in the way that they do when jon Asks. did he see her in the Coffin? and so he's following her? ok cmon jon you're supposed to let them come to you. lmao ikr martin. "start to hear the blood" "suure." lmao ep 143: lol that awkward moment when gertrude is already dead. big J if you die im gonna kill you. bruh. ayo helen? i guess it worked? ep 144: lol this reminds me of that one edgar allan poe story where he kills the old dude with the weird eye. spooky music stuff. lol thats my favorite symptom of a heart attack its hilarious. so its smth abt the location probably? bro i feel like you should write down the numbers idk. 162830165049 564846474827. seems like the distortion? like the kinda thing that causes you to go crazy because of the numbers. oh boy is it the extinction again. bro what?? im?? his dad just died and he's like eh. martin dont be mean. he's being all lonely again. big man ur pushing ppl away. oh god its fucking squealy boy. ep 145: that almost sounds like breekon/hope... Arthur? agnes. aah was he from the lightless flame cult. a tree. lol he's just ranting rn. hehehe fuck landlords amirite. yay someone tells jon outright to go to therapy. now do it big man. ep 146: oh great! the distortion! i'm making a spiral themed building in mc right now! jon maybe accept you did a bad? nah this goes back to what i said before. they're fine with him compelling ppl when its convenient for them but otherwise its "no jon you cant, youre a monster jon" the tapes didnt turn on. i spose that means its not important? i agree with daisy, this seems unecessarily dangerous. ep 147: is that a tape? the first tape? well that went better than i expected tbh. BAHAKJASHDJKF she did the "can i call you jon" like nikola says "elias, can i call you elias?" damn annabelle is such a girlboss. oh! the one thing from the picrew. its been a while since ive connected smth to that. lol all the other avatars always talk abt their patron so lovingly and the jon just. absolutely hates the eye. ep 148: lol thats the most elias thing. "i just like the way it sounds" ep 149: did he disappear? bruhh. ur lonely powers are popping off i guess. oops i accidentally deleted my notes for 150 - 152 ep 153: thats the cult right? yeah. it doesnt sound like the church of the divine host? idk. if it is the church of the divine host then they worship the dark right? so is the eleventh the dark star or wtvr? it almost sounds like the corruption b/c of the oil or grease or whatever. oh dear what happened. oh its the hunters. theyre so annyoing. not an "it" he has a name. he's a person. is this a page from the skin book? ep 154: oh shit this is gerry's dad! oh shit he quit! oh dear god. jon don't you do it. haha martin. yeahhhh... is he gonna tell the others? cuz you know theyre gonna get mad if he doesnt. oh also picrew connection! the bandages over the eyes? yeah thats this im guessing. ep 155: oh good he told them. oh my god what did you do. lol i have no mouth and i must scream. nah you get none of my sympathy you're straight up murdering ppl. its like the desolation, destroying lives to sustain your own. ok but taking their statements doesnt

kill them. oh... bye melanie. ep 156: lmao imagine if the tape recorder spoke back. oh boy decker! i swear we got a statement from him already. oh god mirrors scary. They're gonna eat the body arent they. Yup... sounds like the flesh or the slaughter, but I'm not sure. Could be the extinction for sure. Smth at the center! Like Helen mentioned. God Peter you dick. Ep 157: peter's just so :/ another decker statement i see. a statement about the corruption? hmm. maybe its not abt the corruption. the extinction. lol pandemics. topical. John Amherst. helen? lol i can hear admiral purring in the background. oh cmon helen dont be like that. im trying real hard to like you but you make it so difficult. ep 158: did they fucking free the stranger? im gonna lose it. you absolute dumbass. im sorry who is that? jonah magnus? my guy. peter. you absolute dickhead. that's elias. (im p sure i had this spoiled for me that elias is jonah) oh dear this is her death. god peter you prick. i hope this is a pop off martin moment and not a "martin you idiot" moment. i hope the hunters kill the stranger entity. or she kills them. furry daisy pop off! yeah fuck you peter martin can make his own decisions. you know that clip from Twisted where jafar says "ok what the fuck was that" martin D: ok like i know its gonna work but still D: D: ep 159: peter you bitchboy. because if im alone i cant hurt anyone else. imnotgonnacryimnotgonnacryimnotgonnacry do it do it do it do it. pop off jon. ok its a pretty good idea for a ritual i gotta be honest. she didnt even have to blow it up lol. oh dear that was certainly a noise. "he gets you" did he not have jon already? he's back! our boy is back! awwww thats so cute. ep 160: oh right this is the thing in the safe house. i love him. "obviously im going to tell you if i see any good cows" martin my beloved <3 :)) oh boy who is this. fuckin. people. jonah you dick. gahh. you can tell he's trying to resist so hard lol. ohh. hehe keep an *eye* on him. altho if the extinction is a real thing he needs to be marked by that right? lol he sounds so intense im sorry- i want martin to just burst in and be like "look at this cow i saw!" its so dramatic and for why.

#tma notes #tma

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otomememento · 5 years ago

Text

Held Captive

Cybird Creative Challenge: Day 3 - Enchanted

“Do you really think a blatant lie like that will get you off the hook for illegally entering the Garden?” The man’s voice was stern and imperious, belying the fine porcelain features of his face. Jonah, as he had introduced himself, sounded a lot more formidable than he had looked at first, despite his height.

“But it’s the truth!” However Rosette had ended up there, this was something she had to deal with now. Being accused of doing something illegal by someone wearing a rather official looking uniform wasn’t a situation she could quietly slip away from. Much to her chagrin. But, if she were completely honest, she wasn’t sure she wanted to slip away. After all, Jonah was well worth looking at. His companion was fairly handsome too, but he seemed to be less involved in the conversation.

“Drop the act. I don’t take kindly to people treating me like a fool.” Rosette winced; she didn’t think stating the truth was treating someone like a fool. She honestly hadn’t meant to trespass anywhere she wasn’t wanted. St. James Park was a public space, free for all to enter. Ending up here had confused her greatly.

The confusion gave way to something more akin to fear as she watched Jonah pull something out of his uniform pocket. She couldn’t quite tell what it was until she felt cool metal clasped around both her wrists. She had been handcuffed! The craftsmanship on them was remarkable. Beautifully wrought, they were decorated with gems and a detailed rose decal. They barely looked functional, but when she tried to pull her hands apart, she met with strong resistance.

“You…just handcuffed me,” she said, stating the obvious with disbelief, as though saying it out loud would suddenly bring sense back into the world. It seemed absurd. She had always been a law abiding citizen, and she could only stare at the manacles with a look of wide-eyed shock.

“You’ll never be able to get these off. Though that might change if you get down on your knees and beg for forgiveness.” Jonah tugged slightly on the chain linking the two metal bands, bringing Rosette just a little closer. She could see the gleam of his golden eyes, the dainty beauty mark below his lashes, the glint of his silvery hair that had just a touch of pale green to it. He was a cold beauty of a man.

“Get down on my…” Rosette’s cheeks burned until they matched her name. Jonah’s command had sounded demanding and carried a hint of threat in it. She should have been terrified, and part of her was, but another part was simply stunned. She looked him in the eyes, noticing the tiny details in them with sudden and surprising clarity. Almost as if she was hypnotized, she sank to her knees, wondering at herself for not standing up for herself.

“I see you have some sense. Very good. Now for the second part.”

“You’re merciless, Jonah. This puts me in an uncomfortable position,” said the other man, who had never given his name. Rosette had almost forgotten he was there.

“Merciless? You’re the last person I want to hear that from,” retorted Jonah, a slight huff in his tone. And Rosette thought she detected a hint of disdain as well.

“What are you getting at?” asked the other officer, with a ‘who me’ expression on his face. Jonah dismissed the question as rhetorical and turned his intense gaze back on Rosette. She swallowed, arms trembling as she clasped her hands together.

“Please, Jonah sir. I didn’t mean any harm. I’ve never broken any laws before.” Looking up at him through her lashes, she added with quivering lips, “Forgive me my transgressions.” Then she bowed her head, awaiting judgment. His words had sounded cruel, and the other officer’s commentary didn’t lend itself to comfort, but Rosette found herself feeling oddly tranquil. As though the mere act of asking for forgiveness had released her from a burden she didn’t realize she was carrying.

In Jonah’s eyes she had not seen malice, as his words indicated, but merely pride…and a great deal of it. He was like a living Adonis, as though he had stepped down from a classical painting. It wasn’t the handcuffs, or the threat of punishment, that made Rosette long for words of forgiveness. No, she simply couldn’t bear the though of having those glorious eyes look at her and find her wanting.

Time seemed to tick by so slowly, she could hear each movement of the pocket watch she still had tucked away. Every second felt like a tiny stab. Why should she care so much about what a stranger thought of her, especially one so high and mighty? Rosette tried to talk reason into herself, but the largest part of her mind simply wouldn’t listen.

Finally time seemed to resume its normal course as she felt a tug on the chain again. Carefully she rose to her feet as Jonah pulled the chain upwards. She felt another shiver as he looked her over again. He frowned, pursing his lips as he let go of the chain. Rosette worried that perhaps she had misstepped. Had she been too flowery? Not flowery enough? Did he think she was being impudent. Her nerves were a wreck.

But then he surprised her. He unwrapped the cape that hung off his shoulder and wrapped it around hers. The warmth was welcome against the chill of the night air, and from it Rosette could smell a faint whiff of strawberries mixed with something much more human. Startled she looked up at him, a question on her face. For a second he looked almost petulant.

“You looked cold,” he stated by way of explanation. “I won’t have it said that I mistreat a prisoner.”

“Then it wasn’t enough?” Rosette wasn’t sure how she managed to ask this so calmly.

“We aren’t going to harm you,” he said. “But you still must come with us. Only the King himself can determine your fate. I will tell him that you behaved well and put in a good word for you since you did such a good job in following my command.” His fellow officer snickered softly, and Jonah shot him a disapproving glare.

The three of them were quiet as they left the garden, descending into some stairs. Jonah was unyielding as he moved her forward, but he was also gentle. He guided her so carefully that she never stumbled. Rosette realized that the beautiful garden had actually been on the roof of a very large building. Once she hit street level, she lost the last shred of belief that she could still be in London. The glowing blue lights everywhere were like nothing she had seen before.

But what shocked her more was, she didn’t care. Somehow she had left her reason behind in the garden and was ready to embrace this new world…and the people in it.

#cybirdcreativechallenge #ikemen revolution #ikerev fanfiction #ikerev prologue #jonah clemence

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chilling-seavey · 4 years ago

Text

Amoureux (c.s./d.s.) - Chapter Twenty-One

A/N I think Daniel’s starting to regret his choice...

“Louisa.”

“Do not talk to me right now.” Louisa pushed past Daniel as she descended the few steps from the alter.

He stepped in front of her, setting his hands on her shoulders, “You can see why I had to be truthful, right? It’s not fair to him.”

“Va te faire foutre. That is not why you did it and we both know that.” Louisa spat, shoving him to the side so she could pass, hiking up her dress to make walking easier under the wide skirt.

Daniel stepped on her train to keep her from leaving as the rest of the guests awkwardly filed out of the church to the sound of silence, no wedding bells heard for miles.

“I don’t know what you’re saying but I’m hoping it means ‘thank you’.” Daniel whispered.

Louisa spun around, as if ready to hit him, but Jonah was pulling her back, directing to Daniel, “With my respect, Your Royal Highness, she told you to go fuck yourself.”

Daniel gaped at Louisa who was glaring at him from beside Jonah, “Listen, I understand that you’re upset with me but-”

“No buts!” Louisa held up her hand to silence him. “You had no right. That was not your place.”

“I know…I know…I just-”

“I do not care about your excuses.” Louisa cut him off again, sharply. “If you knew then you would not have completely embarrassed me and made a mockery of your brother in front of everyone!”

“Louisa-”

“Ah.” she held her finger between them. “You keep your mouth shut until I want to hear from you, compris?”

Daniel hesitated, wide eyes staring at the obvious anger in her face and it scared him enough to nod once, a soft pout on his youthful face. Louisa sighed strongly, adjusting her dress and looked to Jonah who was beside her, his wife a few steps away as she watched the scene unfold worriedly.

“What now?” Louisa asked him, her voice shaking.

“Prince Christian has left for the palace, so we are to follow him promptly. The King and Queen and Princess Anna have already been seated in the carriage and are awaiting the both of you.” Jonah answered.

“Did Christian say anything?” Louisa questioned, her concern apparent.

“I am afraid not, ma’am.” Jonah whispered.

“I am riding with you. Not him.” Louisa shot a glare towards Daniel as if he wasn’t standing right there. She lifted up the hem of her dress and walked briskly back down the aisle admits the evacuating crowd.

Everyone seemed to move out of her way to let her pass.

Louisa stayed silent as she sat in the carriage across from Jonah and his wife, her unreadable glare focussed out the window and she twisted her engagement ring around her finger anxiously. She couldn’t get the image of Christian’s face out of her mind, the hurt in his eyes and the anger on his face. It made her feel sick.

Daniel was ushered into the other carriage with his family where he was immediately reprimanded by his parents the entire way home, Anna simply sat between her parents and stared silently at her lap as her brother was yelled at. He didn’t even bother to put up an argument. Louisa’s hurt expression was punishment enough.

Both carriages arrived back at the palace only moments after Christian had and the family rushed inside, Louisa right at the front of the group to try and find him first to explain herself. Daniel shuffled after them, pulled along by Jonah who was less than impressed at the little stunt he pulled to ruin the wedding. It was a classic Daniel move but to a level that no one expected him to stoop to.

Jack and Zach opened the doors for the family, sharing confused glances as it was clearly not the excited and happy arrival they had expected.

“Where is he?” Louisa asked Mary who had met them in the foyer.

“Ballroom, ma’am.” The lady in waiting answered softly, her thin eyebrows narrowed in concern as she watched Louisa rush off after who was supposed to be her husband, who, only moments before, had stormed inside and made a beeline to the reception that was being set up in the ballroom.

Louisa ran right inside the large room to find it already completed for the expected reception, large impressive bouquets of flowers decorating the room around a huge white trimmed table for the guests, donning only the best china, silver cutlery, and crystal glasses. Christian’s red suit could be seen admits the white across the ballroom, speaking to Corbyn, and Louisa ran over, her heels clicking against the wood floors.

“Christian!” she called loudly.

“Sir, we worked all night to prepare these dishes-”

“I do not care. Just get rid of it.” Christian ordered just as she approached them, and she grabbed onto his arm in desperation.

“Christian, I am so sorry. Listen to me, please.” she nearly begged, staring at his face that was clenched with anger.

He shoved her hand off of him and directed to a shocked Corbyn, “Throw it all out for all I care. There is no reason to celebrate.”

“Oh my God, Christian. No. No, no; please listen to me!” Louisa nearly begged, tripping a little over the end of her dress a little as he started back down the length of the ballroom and she rushed to follow him. “I did not know what I was doing, and I-I made such a terrible mistake and I am truly sorry! I told him to go away, but he did not listen!”

Christian ignored her, shouting to the few remaining workers in the room, “Tear it down! Get rid of everything! I do not want to see any of this by tomorrow.”

Louisa felt tears welling in her eyes as she clung onto Christian’s sleeve, trying as hard as she could to keep him from walking away but he was stronger than her and she ended up just being dragged along behind him, her heels skidding over the wood floors, “Christian, please!”

He pulled himself out of his suit jacket to get her hands off him and continued walking towards the doors, leaving her running after him with his jacket clenched in her trembling hands.

The workers stayed motionless and silent as they watched the young couple unravel in front of them, the rest of the family and their group listening silently to Louisa’s tortured sobs from the foyer.

“We should not be standing here listening.” The King said softly. “Let us take some tea outside.”

The group started towards the front doors, but he stayed back to set a hand on his youngest son’s shoulder.

“You will stay in your room until I permit you to leave, understood?” he spoke softly, yet sternly.

Daniel could only nod, biting his lip to hold back his own frightened tears, and turned for the stairs. Jonah followed to lock the door behind him.

Louisa let out a wracking sob that echoed through the large ballroom, Christian’s name falling from her lips as she grabbed his arm again, trying to pull him to face her, “Please, Christian, please, please, please, please, please, please listen to me!”

Christian whipped around to face her, nearly making her stumble as he grabbed her wrist and pushed her back a little, “Stop making a fool of yourself in front of everyone! You have done enough today!”

“No, no, no, no, Christian, you need to listen to me-”

“I have nothing I want to hear from you!”

“I love you! I love you and I want to marry you! Please-”

“Do you?” Christian snapped loudly.

“Yes!” Louisa grabbed for him again, but he took a step back from her, overwhelmed by his intense emotions that were coursing through him.

“Do you know how insane this is?” Christian shouted, his cheeks red with anger. “The whole fucking country thinks I am a bloody fool! Every single person in that church knows you fucked my brother!”

Louisa flinched at his angry language and she let out a small sob, clinging tighter onto his jacket she held her in arms, her tears smudging the powder on her cheeks and dripped onto the red material she held as if it were him.

“I am the future King of England, Louisa!” Christian added, even louder now, “I cannot have this shit getting out and now everyone knows, and it will spread like disease! Do you know how bad this looks on me?”

“It was not my fault!” Louisa screamed, her voice breaking. “I told him not to!”

“There should not have been anything to tell in the first place!” Christian retorted just as loud.

“He started it! He kissed me first!” Louisa protested, willing to try anything to get him to even so much as look at her.

“Was it mutual?” Christian asked sharply.

“What?” Louisa whispered, his eyebrows furrowing a moment as if it was a difficult question.

“Did you voluntarily kiss him? Did you voluntarily get into bed with him?” Christian shouted.

“Y-Yes but-but-but he started it!”

“I do not care who started it! The goddamn horses in the stables could have started it and it does not give you the right to use that as an excuse!”

“He just- I just- He-” Louisa cried, her whole-body trembling under his glare. “I am sorry! I am so sorry!”

“Are you?”

“Yes! I love you!” Louisa shouted, stumbling over herself again to reach for him.

“Do not touch me right now.” he snapped, taking a step back.

“Tell me you love me.” Louisa asked softly.

He didn’t reply.

“Christian, please. I love you. I know you love me too. Please just say it. Please, please, please, I need to hear you say it.”

“Get out.” he breathed, his gaze focussed on the floor and he clenched his jaw a moment. “I cannot look at you right now.”

“Please, Christian, please.” Louisa cried.

“Get the hell out of my sight.” Christian ordered, snatching his jacket from her tight grip and he turned away from her.

Louisa stared at his back for a moment before biting back her sob and rushed out of the ballroom with her face in her hands. She blinked away her tears the best she could, stumbling up the grand staircase under her long wedding dress, tripping over the excess fabric in her rush, her tiara almost slipping off her head.

Daniel was stood at the top of the stairs – always an expert at keeping extra keys hidden under his mattress – and he simply stared at her as she climbed the stairs. She stopped at the top when she saw him and they stared at each other for a moment. He simply stared at her tear streaked face and her frazzled hair and appearance, a small pout coming to his lips in shame. Louisa didn’t say a word to him; she only shot him a glare and pushed past him to get to her bedroom. He watched her walk away and the slam of the door made him flinch.

#daniel seavey #christian seavey #why dont we #wdw #why dont we music #jonah marais #corbyn besson #jack avery #zach herron #daniel seavey fanfic #daniel seavey imagines #why dnont we imagines #why dont we fanfic #wdw fanfic #wdw imagines #wdw boys #historical ficiton #royal!wdw #👑

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omnivorousshipper · 4 years ago

Text

Half a World Away

summery: It all started when Luke intended to get back at Deckard for the whole Mike Oxmaul stunt. He didn't expect it to go any further

This was written for the Summer Shobbs Fic Exchange. This is for my partner @possiblypogue Link to fic on AO3

Luke could barely keep the smile off his face as he hit the call button and heard ringing. Leaning against the wall of the gym he was at, he finally felt his face split into a wide grin as he heard a british voice answer.

“Let me guess, you have a mission to save the world that you just can’t do without me,” Deckard asked, and Luke could absolutely hear the eye roll in his voice.

Putting the phone on speaker, Luke let out a chuckle as he stood and took off his jacket.

“Nah, man. I was checking in on how my good friend was doing,” he said, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. “And I, um-”

“Who are you talking to?”

Luke froze.

“Deck, who are you talking to?”

The voice of Owen Shaw was very distinct, even if it barely filtered through the phone.

“Get the hell out of my face, you little prick!” Deckard hissed back.

“Not before you tell me who you’re talking to. They have to be important to make you smile like that.”

A muffled sound came from the speaker, and if Luke had to guess, he would put his money on Deckard trying to keep his little brother from grabbing the phone.

“It’s none of your business!”

“Is it Tom?”

“No!”

“Lydia?”

“For the last time, Owen! I’m not talking to anyone you forced me to go on a blind date with!” The brit nearly yelled, his voice bouncing off the walls.

“Blind date?” Luke asked, his curiosity thoroughly peaked. He grabbed up his phone, took it off speaker and put it up to his ear. He needed to make sure to hear all of this. “I thought the great Deckard Shaw would be able to get anyone he wanted. And not be forced to be set up on blind dates by his brother.”

“Shut it, you knob,” Deckard growled back, but didn’t deny anything, which only made Luke’s curiosity and laughter to grow.

“C’mon, just tell me who you’re talking to!”

“Is your little brother seriously whining right now?” Luke asked incredulously. There was a lot he was hoping to hear today, but to hear the guy he had chased around the world literally whining had not been something he had been expecting.

Unfortunately, his question is ignored, and instead Luke can hear Owen’s voice much better. No doubt he was getting right up in Deckard’s face.

“Who the bloody hell is ‘She-Hulk’?”

“Nobody!” Deckard’s voice was getting close to sounding like a rabid animal, in Luke’s opinion. If the man kept growling, Luke was pretty sure he was going to hurt himself. “Would you leave me alone, you arsehole?”

“Fine,” Owen huffed, his voice getting smaller again. “You want another pint?”

“Yeah. But, don’t you dare drink half of it again!” Deckard barked after him.

“You know what?” Luke asked.

“What?” Deckard sighed, all fight seeming to disappear from his voice.

“When I met your brother, he never striked me as the ‘annoying little brother’ type,” Luke commented.

“Yeah, well. You didn’t really get to know him, did you?” “Fair,” Luke agreed. Even now, he didn’t really want to get to know the younger Shaw brother. But, he had a feeling Owen would have a few choice words for what Luke had planned for Deckard.

“Anyway, why the hell are you calling me?”

“Oh, no particular reason,” Luke nonchalantly said. “Just wanted to hear what’s about to go down.”

“What are you talking about, numbnuts?” Deckard snorted. “All that’s going to happen is me and my brother enjoying a pint together.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that’s all that’s going to happen,” Luke smirked, and could just imagine the extremely suspicious look in the other man’s eyes as he said that.

“What the bloody hell did you do, Hobbs?”

“Just wait for it,” Luke chuckled. “It might involve rubber gloves and a cavity search.”

“You didn’t,” Deckard responded, his voice revealing that he didn’t quite believe Luke’s statement. But suddenly, Luke could hear shouting in the background. Right on time. “You bloody bastard.”

“Told you I would get you back, Shaw,” Luke laughed.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, Mike Oxmaul,” Deckard grunted back.

“Oh, I will,” Luke promised him. “Just make sure your little brother doesn’t hurt the bobbies too much, Hugh Janus.”

“It’s not Owen they should be worried about. Or you, for that matter,” Deckard told him cooly. “Make sure to watch your back, Hobbs.”

“HOBBS?!”

And with that final shout from Owen, the call was ended, leaving Luke sitting on a bench press, staring down at his phone. On one hand, he couldn’t wait to hear how Deckard and his brother got out of the situation he had set up. On the other hand, Luke couldn’t help but feel a shiver of excitement at Deckard’s last words.

“Do your worst, Shaw,” Luke whispered down to his phone. He couldn’t wait to hear back from the Brit.

~~~

Although he would never admit it, Luke was on edge for a while after that last call between him and Deckard. He tried to stop himself from looking behind him, tried to not stiffen up when a loud noise occurred, and most definitely tried not to think about all the ways the Brit could get back at him.

Instead, he focused on planning his and Sam’s trip to Samoa, and finally allowing all of his family to come together. Luckily, since he just saved the world for the umpteenth time, nobody was really against him taking a long vacation. And every thought even connected to Shaw flew out of his mind when he saw the amazement in Sam’s eyes when they touched down in Samoa.

And when he saw his mother embrace Sam, Luke couldn’t help but feel conflicted. If he had to live his life over, he wouldn’t change the fact that he turned his father in and ran from his family. But, he wished he had come back to Samoa sooner. To repair bridges and let Sam have more of a family than a father.

Now, as he sat in a chair, watching his family dance, sing, and laugh around a bonfire, the warm night air keeping their spirits high, Luke couldn’t be happier. He was so lost in watching everyone around him, he jumped a little when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw it was a text from Hattie. When he had introduced Sam to Jonah and his mother, he had gotten a picture of them, and without thinking, had sent it to Hattie, telling her about his family reunion.

Looking down at the text, Luke could feel his eyebrows raising.

Got my family reunion too :p

Luke couldn’t help the loud snort he made as he looked down at the picture Hattie had sent.

It was a selfie of her and Owen. Hattie was smiling so much, Luke was surprised if it didn’t hurt, but he couldn’t help but copying her as he looked at Owen. Her brother’s face was completely covered in whipped cream, with his eyes screwed shut. Chuckling, Luke texted her back.

That’s a good look for him

Putting his phone back into his pocket, he forgot about the Shaws as he saw Sam running up to him, excitedly telling him about the cars Jonah had shown her.

He didn’t think about the texts between him and Hattie until much later, when his whole family had crashed from the party, and he had finally convinced Sam to go to bed herself, promising that Samoa would still be there when she woke up.

It wasn’t until he had gone to his own bed, ready to fall into it, that he got another text but this time from a different Shaw. Apparently Deckard also wanted to send him pictures.

“Now isn’t that adorable,” Luke muttered, scrolling through the several pictures the Brit had sent him.

The first was of Hattie and Owen, who seemed to have melded together, because Luke couldn’t tell where one started and the other began. They were both asleep, cuddled up on a couch. Luke had to admit that both siblings looked the most peaceful he had ever seen either of them looking before. Hattie was laying on Owen’s chest, head tucked under his chin, while Owen had his arms securely wrapped around his little sister.

The next photo was of an older woman, who Luke had to guess was Magdalene Shaw, the siblings’ mother. She was dressed smartly, but her composed demeanor was completely destroyed by the position she was in. She was fast asleep in an armchair, her head resting on her shoulder, while her hands rested on the armrests, both hands holding something. An empty wine glass and a plate with half-eaten food stayed in her loose grip.

Luke’s grin just grew as he took the older woman in. It seemed like it was naptime for the Shaw household.

The other pictures were all of Owen and Hattie, both seeming like they were having way too much fun in Luke’s opinion. Especially when in the one with both of them juggling knives. He looked the pictures over, a small smile present on his face. It was nice to see that the Shaw family had finally been mended.

He was about to text back to Deckard, when he instead received one.

Deck was being a butt and refused to send these

“Really living up to the reputation of a little sister, aren’t you Hattie?” Luke snorted.

He wasn’t surprised in the least to wake up to a text from Deckard in the morning.

Hatts stole my phone. Ignore all of this

Rolling his eyes, Luke texted back.

I’ll gladly ignore you princess

~~~

The kitchen was filled with delicious smells, the sounds of several pots boiling, a frypan sizzling, and the sound of rhythmic cutting, all which could be heard over soft classical music. Suddenly, a loud ringing filled the kitchen, cutting through every other noise. Putting down the knife he had been using, Deckard whipped his hands before picking up his phone.

“Shaw.”

“Did you send a fucking assassin after me?!”

“Nice to hear from you, Hobbs,” Deckard smirked. He put his phone on speaker, placing it on the counter next to him. Picking up his knife again, he continued to cut up the onion on the cutting board. “Sounds like you didn’t quite enjoy my latest present.”

“Airport security is one thing, Shaw,” Luke growled. “A fucking assassin is another!” “Oh, please,” Deckard rolled his eyes. “I didn’t ask him to kill you.”

“No,” Luke hissed. “Instead, you asked him to ruin my mission, beat the shit out of me, and leave me a laughing stock in front of my whole team.”

“Well, what else would you expect to happen?” Deckard asked. “The guy was wearing a clown nose.”

“What kind of assassin would wear a clown nose!” Luke shouted through the speaker, making Deckard burst out laughing. “And not to mention, that guy is even smaller than your puny ass! Do you know what the guys are saying about me after this whole fiasco?” “I would love to hear what they’re saying,” Deckard hummed. “But you really shouldn’t have even tried fighting Francis. He’s not quite… classically trained.”

“Yeah, I kinda got that when the guy started dancing and still got me on my back,” Luke hissed back.

“Just be glad I didn’t actually ask him to kill you. The guy still owes me a few favors from Siberia.”

“Well, thank you so much for sparing my life, your majesty,” Luke groused, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “But don’t you dare think we’re even.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Deckard snorted. “Have fun writing up the report of how you got your ass handed to you by a clown.”

“Fuck you, Shaw.”

~~~

Two weeks later, and still no retribution from Hobbs, Deckard had to wonder what the other man was planning. He was kind of hoping the other man would copy him again and send someone after him. Deckard needed a good fight.

After he had returned from Samoa and proved his innocence of killing his team when he was an agent, Deckard’s life had gone in several directions. MI6 had been trying to contact him, with Hattie bugging him every other day to answer their calls. Meanwhile, his mother was out of prison and up to her old tricks.

Both parties were trying to convince Deckard to work for them. And in all honesty, he was sick of it.

It was offensive that the spy organization thought they could ask him to come back, with no sort of apology or acknowledgement that they had hunted him down like a beast. All they wanted was his skills and undying loyalty. It didn’t help that they had convinced Hattie that Deckard working for them would be a dream come true for the younger Shaw.

And at the same time, here was his mother, calling him nearly every day and asking him what he was up to. And then asking if he would like to join either her or Owen on a heist. And while her offers did sound tempting, they were not what Deckard was looking for.

After so many years being on the run and relying on himself, Deckard had to admit one thing: it had been freeing not to take orders.

His whole life, he either followed his parents’ word, and then it was every drill sergeant, captain, squad leader, and then senior agent telling him what to do. He had been the perfect agent. Always following orders to a T, but now, after experiencing life following his own code, he didn’t want to return to following someone else’s rules.

For the first time in a long time, he was truly free to do whatever he wanted.

The only problem was, Deckard had no idea what he wanted to do.

Now, here he was sitting alone in his home, late at night, reading a book on gardening.

He had already gone through several books: some biographies of famous spies, others about Russia’s rulers, and even a japanese romance novel Owen had left at his place. None of them had kept his attention.

Nothing seemed to be keeping his attention nowadays. He had taken a walk earlier through the streets of London, and everything seemed… dull.

He used to find the old city’s streets to be exciting when he was a child. But his excitement turned to cautiousness as he grew older and the streets began to become much more threatening. But even when he was on the run and every street corner could have spelled his doom, Deckard had never thought of London as a dull place.

But now everything seemed dull in comparison to his time spent running around the world, being chased by Brixton and being forced to work with Luke Hobbs.

Sighing, Deckard put his book down and scrubbed a hand down his face, and briefly considered just turning in for the night. Even sleep seemed more interesting than anything else in his apartment.

The only real highlight of his days recently had been when his siblings would visit. It was calming to be in the kitchen, bickering back and forth with one or both of them. To have his home filled with teasing and laughter, instead of the usual silence that encased it like a tomb, it was a nice change. But, it didn’t happen often. MI6 had fully reinstated Hattie and was constantly assigning her to missions, while Owen was busy helping their mother with heists or heists of his own.

And while Deckard enjoyed having his family around, he would never bother them and force them to stay longer. They were all adults and they had their own lives to live. Deckard just wished he could figure out to live his.

Ringing from his phone cut through his thoughts and making Deckard blink in surprise. He shouldn’t be getting calls this late, unless someone was in trouble. Picking the phone up, Deckard tilted his head at the caller, but nonetheless he answered it.

“What do you want, Hobbs?”

“Hey,” Luke greeted him hesitantly. “It’s not too late for me to call, is it?” Deckard quirked an eyebrow at that.

“Luke Hobbs being considerate of what time it is for me? What has the world come to?”

“Oh, fuck off, you jackass,” Luke huffed back. “I’m trying to be nice.”

“And why would you want to do that? Need something?” Deckard asked, sitting up, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

“Actually,” Luke sighed. “I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

Deckard felt his other eyebrow follow the first, as they both raised in surprise.

“Finally admitting you’re not superman and actually need help?”

“If you’re going to be an ass about it, then I’m just going to hang up,” Luke snapped.

“Oh, don’t go getting your knickers in a bunch, you oversized idiot.” Deckard rolled his eyes. “What do you need help with?”

It was almost as if a switch had been hit because Luke’s voice went from snappish and full of his usual bravo to professional.

“Since you’re more familiar with Europe’s criminal underground, I was hoping you’d be able to help me with something in France’s black market.”

“I might know a guy who sells illegal tech in France,” Deckard offered. He heaved himself off his couch and went towards the kitchen, where he left his laptop on the table. “What are you specifically looking for?”

“We’re looking for a very intelligent trojan horse. A prototype has been making its way through some smaller countries’ firewalls and we want to find it’s source. We think whoever programmed it is selling it out of France.”

Getting comfortable, Deckard listened to Luke, his hands flying over his laptop’s keyboard, messaging his contacts and hacking into a few others’ systems and seeing if they had anything to do with it.

They went back and forth, sharing what information they were both collecting, talking each other through several theories of who could be behind the virus. Of course, small insults were thrown in, but if anything, it helped keep the air between them light, and without realizing it, Deckard had started to smile.

He didn’t know when he started to laugh at the more inane jokes Luke threw out, claiming that he was a father and allowed to make such jokes.

“You’re a wanker, is what you are,” Deckard snorted.

“I can be both!”

Time passed quickly, both too caught up in their search and personal banter to realize how late it had gotten.

“So, we have it narrowed down to three suspects,” Luke concluded. Deckard leaned back in his chair, looking over the three profiles on his screen and let out a hum.

“I still think you should take Josh Lafrance off the list.”

“Why? You know him?”

“Only met him a few times,” Deckard admitted, chewing on his lip in thought. “Let me call him up. If I can’t make him squeal, Owen can.”

“Please don’t tell me your brother is involved in this shit. I don’t need to be chasing his ass around the world again.”

“Bugger off. If Owen was part of this, I’d wring his neck.”

“Just wanted to check,” Luke placated. “But, how does he know Lafrance?”

Deckard felt his face twist in consideration.

“It’s not really any of my business, or your’s, but I’m pretty sure they shag occasionally,” Deckard finally admitted.

“Oh.”

“Oh what?”

“Sorry, just didn’t think your brother was into guys.”

“He’ll get with anything that’s pretty enough,” Deckard shrugged. “Or interesting enough. You wouldn’t believe how many times he’s gotten in trouble by shagging the wrong person.”

“Oh, I can believe it,” Luke chuckled. “And what about you? Have you ‘shagged’ anyone’s wife that you shouldn’t have?”

“Oi! I don’t sleep with any married people,” Deckard huffed in indignation. “But, there was this one time I got into a spot of trouble by sleeping with a mob boss’s son.”

“Of course you did,” Luke outright laughed.

“It wasn’t my fault the little bugger used me as an excuse to sneak out!” Deckard defended himself, but felt his smile undermining his statement. At the time, it had been intimidating to get threatened by a mob boss, but now, Deckard couldn’t deny that it had been a bit funny that he had been an act of rebellion by the boss’s son.

Deckard was about to explain further, but as soon as he opened his mouth, a yawn took over his words and made him completely incomprehensible.

“What in the fresh hell was that noise?”

“Fuck off, you prick. I’m just yawning.”

“Oh shit. How late is it for you?” Luke asked, no doubt just noticing the time. “Shit. I shouldn’t have kept you up.”

“Don’t worry about it, twinkletoes,” Deckard told him, but had to stifle another yawn.

“Either way, sorry to keep you up so late,” Luke apologized. “An old man like you needs his rest.”

“Who the bloody hell are you calling old, you rat bastard?” Deckard growled, but was only met by laughter.

“Night, Shaw. Thanks again for your help.”

And with those parting words, the call ended, suddenly plunging Deckard back into silence.

Looking down at his phone, Deckard couldn’t help but slump back into his chair.

“Night, Hobbs,” he said to the empty room.

~~~

Luke was in a hotel room in France a week later, finally falling into bed after busting an infamous hacker who had been selling government ruining tech to the highest bidder. Luke was exhausted and planned to sleep until it was the next day and he had to fly back to L.A.

He let out a groan of despair when he heard his phone ringing.

“What the fuck do you bastards want now?” He sighed to himself, but eventually forced himself to sit up and answer his phone. He didn’t bother checking who was calling, just assuming it was his boss calling for an update.

“I really wish I was an only child sometimes,” a british voice sighed heavily into Luke’s ear.

“What?” Luke responded back intelligently.

“My brother and sister are going at it right now,” Deckard explained. And Luke grimaced at the sound of bone tiredness in the other man’s voice. He sounded even more exhausted than Luke felt.

“What are they fighting about?” He asked, a bit of concern in his voice. It had seemed like the three Shaws got along fairly well. What could have happened to set them off?

Luke’s worry only grew when Deckard didn’t respond.

“Shaw?”

Another sigh.

“Hattie knew Cipher.”

“What?!” Luke yelped.

“Well, she didn’t really know Cipher,” Deckard amended.

“Then how the hell does Hattie know her?” Luke demanded.

“Apparently they met in a bar,” Deckard explained. “They hit it off, had a few one night stands, and then parted ways.”

“Did Cipher do anything to Hattie?” Luke asked, his exhaustion completely forgotten as he thought about all the ways Cipher could have hurt the youngest Shaw.

“That’s the weird thing,” Deckard huffed in frustration. “It was only a small fling. Nothing else happened. We don’t think Cipher even knew who Hattie was.”

“What? How’s that even possible?”

“Hattie erased all traces of her being related to our family when she left,” Deckard sighed. “She must have done such a good job, Cipher didn’t find any trace of her in Owen’s or my files.”

“So, it was just a harmless fling between them?” Luke cautiously asked.

“Seems that way.”

“Then why are your brother and sister fighting?” “Well…”

“What?”

“Owen might have, uh…”

It was Luke’s turn to sigh.

“Let me guess, your brother also had a fling with Cipher while he worked with her.”

“Yeah.”

“But why would Hattie be upset?”

“It’s not that simple,” Deckard said. “This isn’t the first time Hatts and Oh have slept with the same person.”

“Oh my god.” Luke wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or not. “How many times?”

“Too many,” Deckard let out a groan. “They’ve been at it for an hour already.”

“Do you think they’ll wear themselves out?”

“Not really,” Deckard siad. “Here, listen.”

There was a beat of silence, no doubt Deckard walking back to his siblings. And then-

“YOU ABSOLUTE CUNT!” Hattie’s screech came through loud and clear. As did Owen’s response.

“GO FUCK YOURSELF!”

“See?” Deckard’s voice sounded small next to his siblings’ yelling.

“Yeah. I kinda wish you were an only child, too.”

It was nice to hear Deckard’s laugh after all the sighing he had been doing earlier.

~~~

They had talked for a while after that, Deckard telling Luke about all the times his brother and sister found out they had been with the same person. But eventually, he had to hang up, Hattie demanding he come to her defense.

Before the other man could be pulled into the screaming match, Luke had made him promise to keep him updated on the fight. He was too invested now.

Unfortunately, Luke fell asleep, phone still clutched in his hand. When he woke up hours later, he blurriedly blinked at the several missed messages from Deckard.

Two hours now

Four *eye roll emoji*

They’ve finally stopped for tea

Nvm. Owen started throwing biscuits

The final message was a picture of Owen and Hattie throwing food at each other, but a smile on both their faces.

They always have to ruin my kitchen

Luke let out a laugh, just imagining the look of irritation and fondness on Deckard’s face.

~~~

After that, Luke could feel a shift in their sorta-kinda-maybe friendship. Luke didn’t hesitate to call the Brit, asking for his help in something. Their talks would start off professional, but would soon dissolve into something warmer, friendlier. It felt natural for Luke to throw out a harmless insult, or start a nonsensical argument, because Deckard would respond in kind, keeping up with Luke with his own wit.

Soon enough, their calls turned to texting, mostly because he didn’t need Sam picking up on his language. It was summer vacation now and she kept insisting for her bedtime to be later and later.

It seemed like no matter when Luke would text Deckard, the man would respond within ten minutes. He became used to always seeing a message from the Brit, that Luke could feel a sense of worry crawl up his spine when Deckard didn’t respond to him for several days.

It was after almost a week of no response, when Luke finally received a text in the middle of the night. Sam was at a sleepover and Luke had treated himself to a marathon of all the basketball games he had missed recently.

You busy?

Luke furrowed his brow in confusion. Deckard was usually not that brief in his texts.

No. What do you need?

Instead of a text, Luke’s phone lit up with a call, which he answered immediately.

“Deckard?” He gently asked.

“Hey.”

Luke winced at the croak that came over the phone. Deckard’s voice sounded wrecked.

“Is something wrong?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” Deckard mumbled, his words slurring together.

“Are you drunk?” Luke asked incredulously.

“A bit,” the Brit sighed. His voice sounded even more distorted, almost as if something was covering his face.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I saw my Da,” Deckard whispered so quietly, Luke almost couldn’t hear him. And he noticed how thick the Brit’s accent was getting, no doubt the alcohol loosening his tongue.

“Is that a bad thing?” Luke cautiously questioned. He couldn’t remember either Deckard or Hattie talking about their father. And he hadn’t seen anything about the man in any of the Shaw siblings’ files.

“I don’t know,” Deckard sighed and Luke could tell the other man was lying. His voice sounded so broken, and Luke swore he could hear something else in his voice.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Okay.”

“Could we…” Deckard trailed off.

“What?” Luke asked, his voice gentle, not wanting to scare Deckard off.

“Could we just talk about something else? Anything else?”

“Of course,” Luke immediately agreed. “What do you want to talk about?”

“How’s your daughter doing? Sam, right?” “She’s doing great,” Luke started, a smile appearing on his face. “She’s gotten into rollerblading recently. You wouldn’t believe how many times I have to remind her to wear her knee pads.”

“As reckless as her old man,” Deckard chuckled softly.

“Who the hell are you calling old?”

They talked for hours after that. From how the next school year would go for Sam to what the weather in London would be like in the morning. Deckard never talked about his father or why he had drunkenly called Luke, but Luke wasn’t about to push the man. He understood father issues. Instead, he stayed up with Deckard and didn’t let him off the line until he was satisfied that Deckard was in a better mood.

It wasn’t until the fifth yawn in a row did Luke finally tell Deckard:

“Alright, princess, I think it’s past midnight. Your fairy godmother's spell is going to wear off soon.”

“Screw you, Luke,” Deckard yawned loudly.

“Sweet dreams, Deck,” Luke whispered.

“Mmhmm,” Deckard hummed. “You, too.”

~~~

The next morning, Deckard woke up with a raging hangover and laying on the floor of his living room. Gingerly sitting up, Deckard looked around for his phone, wondering what time it was. Sun was already streaming through the windows, only helping to make his headache even worse.

“Where the bloody fuck did it go?” Deckard hissed quietly, holding his head in one hand, and groping under the couch for his phone. Finally, slick metal brushed against his fingers and he quickly snatched up his phone.

It was nearly noon.

“Bloody hell.”

And then he blinked at the message from Luke.

Hope you slept well princess

Suddenly, Deckard’s headache didn’t seem so bad.

~~~

Curled up on his couch, Deckard sipped at his tea and enjoyed the newest episode of the crime drama he was following. Almost everything in the show was nonsense, but the characters were interesting and had unfortunately caught Deckard’s attention.

His quiet evening was interrupted by his phone going off.

Putting his tea down and picking up his phone, Deckard smiled at the screen.

It was Luke.

It was almost ritual at this point. Almost every day after Deckard had drunkenly called Luke, they would call each other, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. The only reason they hadn’t talked in the last three days was because Luke was undercover on a mission.

Answering the call, Deckard smiled wider.

“About time you called, twinkletoes.”

“Hey, Deck,” Luke wheezed.

Deckard’s smile dropped immediately.

“Luke? What’s wrong?” Deckard tried to keep his voice calm, but it was difficult as he felt a jolt of fear go down his back. Had the mission gone wrong?

“Things went a bit tits up,” Luke responded, his voice weak.

“What happened?”

“Someone leaked that I was a cop. I barely got out of there.”

“Are you hurt?” Deckard tried not to sound too panicked, but was sure it still came through.

“A stray bullet to the side,” Luke grunted in obvious pain.

“Where in the side?” Deckard demanded.

“I’m not a doctor, Deck. I’m losing blood fast, that’s all I know.”

“Is backup on its way?”

“Yeah. But not for a while.”

“Try not to move. And keep pressure on the wound,” Deckard hurriedly suggested, feeling his frayed nerves bristle at the weak chuckle Luke let out.

“I know, Deck. I’ve been in this kind of situation before. I know what to do,” Luke reassured him.

“Then why the bloody hell did you call me? You shouldn’t be talking and using up your strength,” Deckard snapped.

“I don’t know. I just,” Luke started. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Deckard felt his heart clench at those words.

“You idiot.”

“I know. But I’m your idiot,” Luke said, clearly straining to speak.

“Just stop talking,” Deckard pleaded. “Save your strength.”

“Then you talk. Tell me about your day.”

“Fine. Just promise me you’ll stay awake.”

“I promise,” Luke whispered.

Deckard talked about anything he could think of: about all the missions he did for MI6, about the recent heists his brother had just pulled, about the annoying neighbors across the street. Occasionally, he would hear Luke hum in response or give a one word answer, just to show that he was awake.

“I swear, I’m going to go over there and bash their teeth in one day,” Deckard groused. “Who the hell needs to play music that loud?”

He waited for Luke’s response, but there was silence.

“Luke?”

Nothing.

“Luke!” Deckard checked that the call was still going. It was.

“LUKE!”

“Deck?” Luke weakly coughed.

“Luke,” Deckard heard his voice break. “You need to stay awake. At least until backup arrives.”

“I can’t,” Luke slurred.

“You have to,” Deckard urged him.

“Deck, I…”

Then Deckard heard it.

Shouting.

“Luke! Is that your backup?”

All he heard was the sound of Luke’s labored breathing.

“Please, for the love of Christ, Luke! Please answer me!” The only thing that came through the phone was shouting, but it was still too far away from Deckard to make anything out.

And then nothing.

Looking down, Deckard saw that the call had ended.

He didn’t notice he had been crying until a tear fell onto the phone’s black screen.

~~~

Deckard kept calling Luke’s phone, but to no avail. He didn’t know anyone that Luke worked with. When he called Dom Toretto up, the man was clueless about Luke’s whereabouts and not even knowing he had been on a mission. Desperately, Deckard tried hacking Luke’s phone, but all that got him was Luke’s location, which was in Washington, D.C., where Luke’s mission had taken place. Half a world away from Deckard.

Luckily, it seemed like backup had arrived, because Luke’s phone was at a hospital, one of the best in the country.

Deckard didn’t want to admit it, but the whole time after their call had ended, Deckard had barely moved from his computer. He barely ate or slept, only staring at his phone and nearly begging it to ring.

It had been over twenty-four hours, and still no word. Deckard could feel himself going mad.

“If you don’t survive this, Hobbs, I’m going to bring you back from the dead and kill you myself,” Deckard growled.

When the thirty hour mark hit, Deckard decided that he was too jumpy to hold a knife. So, he went out, intending to grab something to eat, knowing that he at least needed to keep his own strength up.

He was halfway to the Gregg’s near his apartment when he felt his phone vibrate.

Nearly ripping his phone out of his pocket, Deckard had to try three times to actually hit the accept call button.

“Luke?” “Hey, princess,” Luke said quietly. And even though his voice sounded scratchy, Deckard could hear the energy in it. “Hope I didn’t scare you too badly.”

“Are you alright?” Deckard demanded, ignoring what Luke said.

“I’m fine, Deck,” Luke soothed him. “The bullet didn’t hit anything major. I just lost a lot of blood is all.”

“Oh, you just lost some blood?” Deckard sneered. “It’s not like you can die from that!”

Deckard glared at the people on the street staring at him. Can’t a man yell in peace? “Deck.”

“What?!” He snapped.

“I’m fine. Really.”

Deckard took a breath, about to start shouting again. But suddenly, the last day of worrying and no sleep crashed into him. He could feel himself wobble as he stood on the sidewalk, his head feeling like it was filled with cotton.

“If you’re sure,” Deckard whispered instead.

“I am,” Luke said firmly. “I’m sorry to make you worry, Deckard.”

“Just don’t do it again,” Deckard sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He began walking again, even though his legs felt like jelly from the relief that Luke was going to be fine.

~~~

Deckard was in his kitchen again, when he got a call from Luke. It had only been a few days since Luke had been shot and in the hospital having surgery. Putting down the carrots he had gotten out of the fridge, Deckard answered his phone.

“How are you feeling, twinkletoes?”

“I’m good,” Luke said. “But I’d be better if you opened the door.”

Deckard blinked.

“What?”

“Deck. Come open the door. I’m melting out here.”

Not really knowing what was going on, Deckard made his way to his front door. Opening it, he came face to face with one Luke Hobbs. Who held his own phone up to his ear, smiling down at Deckard.

“About time, princess.”

#shobbs summer fic exchange #shobbs #luke hobbs #deckard shaw #my fanfic #owen shaw #hattie shaw

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beantown-boy · 5 years ago

Text

Punch Bowl ||An Andi Mack Fic|| (CW Homophobia)

Quick Shoutout to @abg-blah and @luzawithoutu for providing me with motivation, and to @dumb-binch-juice for providing me with inspiration

"Cyrus, please DON'T wear a tux to homecoming."

“Please, wear a tux,” TJ countered, giving Buffy a pointed look before turning to his boyfriend with a smile. Cyrus looked amazing. It was like the universe had decided that Cyrus should be able to look both handsome and comfortable in formalwear. He wasn’t so lucky. The shoulders of his suit jacket were awkwardly tight, and he was pretty sure that his socks hadn’t shown this much when he wore this last Homecoming.

“It’s too formal,” Buffy pleaded. “I’d go with the blue suit. Why stray from a classic? Plus, you just had it tailored. It would be a shame for that to go to waste.”

“But the tux makes a statement.”

“Yeah it does. ‘I’m too good for normal dress clothes’”

“Which you are. Don't let her undermine your confidence.”

Cyrus drew his hands up dramatically, cutting them off mid-argument.

“Dearest and most beloved advisors, I have come to my conclusion. Before I state it, I must say, I love you both in equal, though different measures. That being said, Buffy is right. It’s just a little too much. Don’t worry, Teej, I’ll rock the tux for next year’s prom.”

He jumped onto the bed, and quickly kissed TJ on the cheek before walking back into his closet.

“Gross,” Buffy teased.

As the closet door clicked shut, a series of sharp knocks came from the door to Cyrus’ room, followed by Marty’s muffled voice. “Hey, guys? Are you done in there? Jonah and Lenni are here, and they’re starting to think that Buffy killed TJ. Which you didn’t, right?”

Buffy smirked and gave TJ a playful shove before going to open the door.

“Not yet. I could never do that to Cyrus.”

“More like you couldn’t do it, period, Driscoll.” TJ shot back.

“Can you guys please make it through one night without bickering?”

“No.” They replied in unison before bursting into laughter.

Being friends with Buffy was great, but ever since she and Marty had started the whole 'being straightforward' thing she'd needed someone else for verbal sparring. And joking with her kept TJ on his toes. It was nice to know that he still had his sharp tongue, even if he rarely used it. Marty and Jonah were fun, but sometimes a bit witless. Buffy was anything but.

The pre-Homecoming dinner at the Goodmans' was just as good as the year before, if not better. Cyrus' dad always went all out when his son had friends over. And even if the meal still devolved into Jonah and Lenni heating up hot pockets and seeing who could eat the most of them without burning themselves, TJ was happy to spend the time surrounded by his friends and his boyfriend.

By the time the group split up between TJ and Buffy's cars, TJ was already getting snaps of the dance from Chet and William. He put his phone down as Cyrus and Jonah climbed into the backseat, leaving him alone up front. He stared at the two of them, as the awkwardness seeped in.

"So no one wants shotgun, huh?" TJ deadpanned.

"I mean, I was going to," Jonah explained, "but then I thought Cyrus might want to, and then-"

"I just know that the passenger seat is the least safe one in the car." Cyrus stated. "And I do trust your driving skills, but I don't necessarily trust everyone else on the road."

"Oh, so if I die, I'm dying alone, gotcha. Since that's cleared up, Jonah, do you wanna ride shotgun."

"Risk of death, let's goooo!" Jonah shouted, climbing over the passenger seat.

"See," TJ said as he pulled into the Grant High parking lot, "no fatal accidents."

“Told you I trusted you.” Cyrus

The dance was already in full swing as they entered the overcrowded gymnasium. A swarm of students surrounded the DJ booth, while others milled about between the snacks and the neatly decorated tables.

“Isn’t this amazing?”

Cyrus sighed as he took it all in. He and the other class reps had worked really hard to make sure that the dance went flawlessly, and judging by the look on his boyfriend’s face, TJ believed they’d succeeded. The junior class rep, Avery, TJ thought, waved Cyrus over towards the punch bowl. Cyrus looked cautiously between her and his friends.

“Can I just -”

“It’s fine.” Buffy interrupted. “Go talk to her, grab some punch and then meet us on the dancefloor.”

Buffy, as it turned out was a very good dancer. TJ didn't think he was abysmal himself, but he certainly wouldn't have managed half as well if she hadn't been by his side. They slid this way to that beat, as they ran into Jonah again. They made a turn at that moment because it seemed to fit just right, and Buffy broke off from him to join Marty. TJ spun into the guys from the team before Lenni pulled him back towards the others. The energy between the five of them was electrifying. TJ wasn’t sure how much time had passed before they settled with just bouncing in the crowd of Grant High students.

“Okay, Buffy,” Lenni huffed, “we get it. You’re tireless. But some of us would rather just watch someone else dance for a change. In your car you were talking about the Cyrus Shuffle. What even is that?”

Buffy’s laugh was almost drowned out by the sound of the crowd.

“It’s whatever dance moves Cyrus throws together whenever he says he’s gonna do the Cyrus Shuffle.”

TJ picked up after her.

“Each one is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. You have to see it. He should be back any second now, unless-” He turned back to Buffy, who was already giving him her ‘I know exactly what’s happening’ smile. They had left Cyrus with Avery, another huge nerd. They’d almost definitely started seventeen different tangent conversations, and if no one interrupted them the class reps would probably spend the whole dance talking about chemistry or exam prep. One of them would have to get Cyrus.

“You’re his boyfriend,” Buffy said quickly. “You go get him.”

“You just want to kiss Marty while I’m not around to make fun of you.”

TJ didn’t catch her reply as he turned and tried to make his way through the crowd. Now that he was trying to get out, he realized that making people move was so much harder than he remembered it being. Even last year, people still had given him a bit of precautionary space, and sure, it had stung, but it had also been useful. He pushed the thought out of his mind as he slid between flying elbows. He was nice now. He had been for two years. It made sense that people would feel at least comfortable around him. And if that feeling came with feeling small and cramped sometimes, so be it.

Finally, he made it out of the crush of bodies. Relief crashed over him with a wave of cooler air, but the jostling of the crowd still left him a bit on edge. TJ took a moment to get his bearings before heading towards the punch bowl. He spotted Cyrus’ familiar blue suit from across the room, and immediately he felt more relaxed. It took him another moment to realize that something was wrong.

Avery was nowhere in sight, and Cyrus was shifting from foot to foot like he was ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. He was talking to someone who TJ couldn’t quite make out in the dim gymnasium light. TJ nearly sprinted past the tables to get to Cyrus. And as he got close, he recognized Ethan practically towering over his boyfriend. He felt himself go cold, hot, then cold again as he stalked toward the senior.

TJ was sick of him. Ethan had been a jerk to Cyrus before. He’d done horrible things to Chet’s sister Charlotte. Cyrus had tried reporting the guy last year, but despite the school’s zero tolerance policy for bullying, Ethan was still around. And now he was screwing with Cyrus again. TJ interrupted whatever insulting comment Ethan was making as he made it to the punch bowl.

“Don’t you have anywhere else to be? Or did your soccer buddies’ house party get busted?”

That was nice enough. He hadn’t outright insulted Ethan, which was good. Civility wasn’t his strong suit.

“I was just swinging by to my last ever HoCo,” Ethan replied. He flashed a toothy sneer that made TJ’s skin crawl. “And then I saw your little boyfriend here, and I couldn’t help but share a little senior wisdom.”

“Can we just go?” Cyrus suggested before freezing again when Ethan turned his attention back to him.

“No.” The way Ethan spoke made it seem more like a fact than anything else. Cyrus shrank back even further, and TJ tasted metal in his mouth.

“Ethan’s right,” TJ said. He felt like he wasn’t the one speaking. His voice was surprisingly level, even as his nails began to dig into his palms and a painful heat began to spread from the pit of his stomach. Whatever force was carrying him continued. “I’d personally love to hear what an idiot calls wisdom.”

“It’s easy, kids. Homecoming is for normal people. And that’s not you guys. I don’t care if you do the whole gay thing. But not at my homecoming. So get lost,” He shoved Cyrus towards the door, and muttered something under his breath that made Cyrus wince. Adrenaline and panic spiked in a moment of white-hot fury and-

“TJ, are you okay!”

Cyrus’ voice connected through the haze, and TJ felt himself slowly becoming a person again. He tasted blood in his mouth, and his face was still burning with wildfire. He realized he was on his back. His head hurt. His chest hurt. His hands hurt worst of all. He looked to find blood on his knuckles and under his fingernails. Then, he saw Cyrus standing worriedly above him, right next to Principal Donaghue, whose face was set in an unforgiving line.

“Mr. Kippen, I must ask you to leave the premises immediately. We will be discussing disciplinary actions Monday.”

The next few moments still felt like a dream. Cyrus was still looking at him with that concern, or maybe it was fear, as Buffy seemed to materialize to help him to his feet. The next thing he knew he was lying on his back, on the football field, in the chilly October night. Buffy was resting on his left, either unaware or uncaring of the grass stains on her dress. Cyrus was sitting on his right, more contemplative than concerned.

“I’m sorry.” TJ offered, eyes fixed on the night sky.

“Well,” Cyrus supplied tentatively, “This isn’t my first run in with school administration. I just haven’t been kicked out of a dance before.”

“I’m so sorry,” TJ repeated, thinking back to the look of shock on Ethan’s face when he leapt forward to punch the senior.

“I never meant to actually-- It was just so-- And he was-- I’m sorry. For ruining our night.”

Buffy laughed, and a plume of fog erupted with it.

"Congratulations, Blood-Nose, you are officially the loose cannon of Grant High's sophomore class, again." She paused, weighing her words, before continuing. “Besides, that Ethan guy had it coming. I’m actually a little bit jealous I missed the action. He’s one of those very punchable people. Right, Cyrus?”

Cyrus’s breath steamed in the silence. A moment passed, then another, and TJ’s heart clenched as Cyrus finally spoke.

"You are a great guy, TJ, and I know that. And I should’ve spoken up more to stop that from happening. But you’re still you. You’re headstrong and brave, and remarkably kind. But, sometimes, you remind people why they used to fear you. And that’s not a bad thing, as long as they know they don’t have to anymore. I know I don’t. I just love you. So, I will see you either after detention, or at your house if you get suspended. But tonight-"

Cyrus kissed him, and TJ was still scared. He was scared about what repercussions would come on Monday. He was scared about telling his parents what had happened that night. He was scared about all the rumors that were probably already spreading through the sophomore class. But for once, he wasn’t scared of himself. And for ten seconds he let himself enjoy that. Until Buffy said, “Gross,” and the three of them collapsed in crazy stressed laughter.

#andi mack #andi mack fic #andi mack fanfic #tyrus #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #buffy driscoll #jonah beck #platonic tuffy

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anarcoqueer1994 · 5 years ago

Text

Scary Movies

A tiny ficlet about a Wes Craven movie night(He's from Cleveland, so I gotta represent) TJ hates scary movies but its Halloween and Cyrus loves them.

Bonus notes that have no impact on the story but are true in the universe of the story.

TJ is Trans

So is Marty

Also Jeed rights

TJ hates scary movies. He hates the gore. He hates the jump scares. He hates the grotesque villains who lurk in the shadows of every scary movie. He hates the tense, unnerving, music signaling that one of the characters was about to meet their demise. He hates the blood splatters. He hates the ear-piercing scream let out by some terrified teenage girl. But most of all, he hates feeling scared. He doesn’t like that feeling of vulnerability. Unfortunately, that is the exact reason he cannot admit to anyone that he does like them. He hasn’t even told Cyrus. He felt like a wimp. He doesn’t want anyone to know that tough, “lives on the edge”, TJ Kippen is terrified of horror films.

Cyrus on the other hand LOVES scary movies. He geeks out over the work and cinema magic that goes into them. Scary movies are a way to face fear without actually being in danger. Cyrus, who admittedly is always anxious about something bad happening, could take solace in the pretend horror in the films. TJ, for his part, has managed to avoid watching them with Cyrus up until now. But it is October and he knew he didn’t have an option to avoid them anymore. Last Halloween he manage to avoid them but knew he could not pull that off again without anyone get suspicous. Cyrus had invited everyone over to his house for a classic slasher marathon that weekend. TJ had no good excuse to not come and he obviously did not want to tell Cyrus he was afraid. So he resided himself to going and hoping that he could hide how scared he was.

The night of, TJ of course got there first to help Cyrus set up. He knows how particular his boyfriend is when it comes to parties, even if it was just a movie night with their friends. As they lined pillows on the floor in front of the couch and set out bowls of snacks, TJ asks "So Cy, what movies do you have planned?" He tries to keep his voice casual. In reality, he was just getting himself ready.

Cyrus smiles, "Well I thought we could do a Wes Craven themed night. We'll start with A Nightmare on Elm Street, obviously. Then I was thinking Scream, and finally The Hills Have Eyes."

"Oh, okay. " He tries to say cooly.

"I know they are kind of campy and outdated, not really the terror fest to write home about. But like I thought they would be fun." Cyrus defends thinking TJ wasn't impressed with the lineup.

In reality, he was so nervous because he has never seen any of these movies. Yea, of course he has heard of Freddy Kruger and Ghostface because who hasn't? But he has never sat down to watch them. He really hates being scared. But he just gives Cyrus a big smile and lies through his teeth. "Sounds good, Underdog."

After a while the rest of their friends show up and get settled in. Amber and Andi snuggle together on the oversized chair. Buffy and Marty are sitting on the floor already seeing who can catch the most popcorn in their mouths. Jonah and Reed join Buffy and Marty on the floor laughing at their friends' antics. That leaves Cyrus and TJ the couch. TJ sits down and after Cyrus turns off the lights and starts the first movie, he moves to cuddle next to his boyfriend, throwing a blanket over them, his head resting on TJ's shoulder.

TJ watches as his friends all indulge in the familiar plot. It seems like everyone has seen it before, no one flinching when Tina's bloody body is thrown across the room. But TJ hates it. He wants to cover his face but doesn't want to give away his secret. He hopes to God that no one noticed when he would jump or flinch whenever Freddy did something new.

But Cyrus notices. He whispers too quietly for anyone else to hear. "You okay, Teej?"

TJ gives a stiff nod, not removing his eyes from the gore on the screen in front of him, worried that Cyrus will know the truth if he looks at him.

But Cyrus already could tell the truth. TJ was not having a good time. He wasn't enjoying being terrified. But he could also tell that TJ was never going to admit it, being too "tough" for that. So he gets an idea.

He whispers his lie. "My neck is getting tired from laying like this. Can we switch positions, Teej?"

"Uh..." the blonde stutters. "Yea of course."

They quietly get up, careful not to disturb the other kids. Cyrus moved so he sat against the arm of the couch. TJ, instead of putting his head on Cyrus' shoulder, lays it on the brunette's lap.

So as the movie played on, Cyrus stroked TJ's hair, or would rest a hand on the jock's shoulder whenever he would feel him tense up at a scary part. Of course Cyrus never said out loud that he knew TJ was scared. It was more like an unspoken understanding.

Nevertheless, Cyrus settles into a comfortable pattern of playing with the fluffy blonde locks that laid on his lap. TJ eventually not even flinching at the terrifying images that played before him. It doesn't take Cyrus long to realize why. His boyfriend fell asleep. He smiles to himself, lazily stroking the sleeping boys head as he continues to watch the film, not bothering to wake him up. He was pretty sure TJ would be fine missing the rest.

#andi mack #tyrus #ambi #muffy #jeed #TJ hates scary movies #Cyrus loves them #wes craven #Halloween #tj trans #trans marty

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supergraphicultramoderngirl · 6 years ago

Text

vulnerable in oh so many ways

a tyrus oneshot songfic inspired by light on by maggie rogers, based off of 3x13

try not to cry challenge: failed (grab ur tissues)

word count: 2325

—————————

Would you believe me now

If I told you I got caught up in a wave?

Almost gave it away

“You haven’t talked to him yet?” Buffy asked in surprise. She sat next to Andi in their usual spot in The Spoon, with Cyrus sulking in his seat across from them.

“No, there’s nothing to talk to him about. He ditched me for some rude girl, plain and simple. Nothing I can do about it,” Cyrus replied, throwing an uneaten baby tater back in the basket.

Andi responded, “Why are you so worked up about this, though? I mean, when the whole gun thing happened, we had to pry you away from him.”

“That wasn’t his fault. I should’ve figured this would happen, I’m always the second choice,” Cyrus mumbled.

“Hey.” Buffy leaned forward and took his hands in hers, much like when he’d came out to her. “You are never just the second choice, okay? You’re just as important as anyone else. And if TJ chose someone like her over someone as amazing as you, then he never deserved to be friends with you in the first place.”

Cyrus gave her a small smile. “Thanks. And I know, it just hurts, you know? Like, he still chose her over me.”

Buffy and Andi exchanged a look, leaving Cyrus to question, “What?”

“That’s the thing, Cy. It’s weird that he just bailed on you,” Andi replied.

Buffy added, “Yeah, he usually follows you around like a puppy. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“I know. That’s why it hurts so much,” Cyrus murmured, leaning back in the booth.

Buffy squinted then, recognizing the face he was making. The last time he looked like that was when they’d watched Jonah and Andi kiss. “Cy?”

He looked up. “Hm?”

“You know you can tell us anything, right?”

Cyrus sighed. “I know.”

Buffy asked slowly, “Do you? Want to tell us anything?”

Cyrus just shook his head, knowing exactly what she was implying.

“Yeah, not gonna lie, I’m lost,” Andi interrupted.

Buffy put her hand on her shoulder. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

Would you hear me out

If I told you I was terrified for days?

Thought I was gonna break

“Kippen!”

TJ looked up from his phone to see none other than Buffy Driscoll running up to him.

Buffy almost stopped in her tracks upon seeing how, well, horrible TJ looked. His face was paler than usual, he’d acquired massive eye bags, and his hair was messy, lacking its usual overpowering gel. “Whoa. Um, okay, what the hell happened?”

“None of your business,” TJ mumbled.

Buffy crossed her arms and sat down next to him. “When my best friend is that upset, it automatically becomes my business. Why did you bail on Cyrus?”

TJ sighed, leaning back in the bench he currently occupied. “It’s really complicated.”

Buffy took the seat next to him. “I’ve got time.”

Oh, I couldn't stop it

Tried to slow it all down

Crying in the bathroom

Had to figure it out

“So you’d rather to a costume with Cyrus than with me? Have fun with that.”

Those words echoed in TJ’s brain since they were first spoken. He thought he had it all covered, that he was being subtle enough that no one would pick up enough but still touchy enough where he could still express how he was feeling. Apparently not. TJ hadn’t even thought about people thinking it was a bad thing, only hiding it because he has a crush on his straight best friend, that’s embarrassing. Was it a bad thing? Would other people think it was a bad thing? Guess so, considering Kira does, or at least implied that she does. What if she told other people about it? What if everyone thought it was wrong? What if—

And suddenly TJ broke down on the tiles of his bathroom floor in the middle of the night.

He had no other choice, did he? He had to do the costume with Kira, or else he’d be outcasted even more than he used to be.

Classic TJ.

With everyone around me saying

"You must be so happy now"

Cyrus watched as yet another person went up to congratulate TJ and Kira, sighing into his math homework.

Kira had recently announced over Instagram that the two had started dating.

Buffy was gone from school that day, so it was Andi’s job to do some damage control, meaning constant hugs and reassurance that TJ is and always was a dick.

“Stop watching them, Cy, it’s only going to make you feel worse,” Andi said softly.

Cyrus replied shortly, “He stopped trying to text me.”

Jonah, who sat next to Andi, asked, “Well, isn’t that a good thing then? If he was being such a bad friend to you, shouldn’t you be happy he’s out of your life now?”

I should be, Cyrus thought, but I’m not. “I guess. Something about this just feels so weird.”

Andi grabbed his hand to console him. “That’s totally fair, considering you li—“

“No, I didn’t,” Cyrus interrupted.

“Sure.”

Oh, if you keep reaching out

Then I'll keep coming back

And if you're gone for good

Then I'm okay with that

If you leave the light on

Then I'll leave the light on

It had been three and a half weeks since TJ had last tried to reach out to Cyrus.

Both boys had just assumed that the other hated them and just never spoke to them again after that crushing realization. And to be fair, that realization is completely plausible since neither side knew the whole story.

But Buffy did.

Despite wanting to spill it all at first, she kept her mouth shut in the beginning as she didn’t want to out either of the two boys. But the further they drifted apart, the closer she came to the conclusion that she had to get involved. She wouldn’t say anything about their sexualities, obviously, but she knew that they had a bond stronger than whatever Kira was attempting to ruin.

So she got involved.

Cyrus was not expecting a call from Buffy at 11pm, however they’d had late night conversations before, why would this one be any different than their ramblings about various movies or songs or things that happened during the day?

Buffy’s voice came through the phone strong and clear, “You need to talk to him.”

“What? No, there is no way I’m ever talking to him again,” Cyrus scoffed.

“Yeah, but I did. Knowing what happened and watching you drift apart because of it is literally killing me. You need to talk to him, Cy,” Buffy responded.

Cyrus was silent for a moment, the only tell that was still on the call was his heavy breathing into the phone. Finally, he replied quietly, almost a whisper, “You talked to him?”

“I had to, seeing you upset like that.”

Cyrus’ reply was almost pained, “What did he even say? What could’ve possibly happened?”

Buffy sighed. “That’s not for me to tell.”

The two kids both fell quiet for a moment. Cyrus pinched the bridge of his nose and interrupted the silence with, “I think I’ve just given up on this, I don’t even care what happened. I should, I know, and somewhere in my brain I probably do, but right now, I don’t know... I just feel empty about this whole situation.”

“That’s fine, Cy, it’s completely valid for you to be feeling like that. Just, don’t give up on him yet. You guys are too good of a pair to be ruined by some she-devil,” Buffy said.

“Thanks. We’ll see, I guess. I gotta go, bye,” Cyrus replied.

“Bye,” Buffy answered back, ending the call.

Cyrus set his phone down next to him on his bed and sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. He didn’t have the energy to get up at turn off his lamp in the opposite corner of his room, only enough energy to think about the one boy who had constantly been on his mind since that one fateful Friday.

He looked out his window and spotted TJ’s house several streets away. He remembered when they would call each other and stand at the window, looking over to one another, pretending to give the eye contact they’d give in a normal face to face conversation. That was gone now, though, all he had was the light in TJ’s own room to look at.

He didn’t know that TJ was looking over at his house doing the same.

And I am finding out

There's just no other way

That I'm still dancing at the end of the day

Seeing Metcalf kiss his husband on the cheek in the middle of the hallway was the last thing anyone expected to see during school.

Naturally, word spread fast to those who weren’t around to see it, including TJ.

“Did you hear what Metcalf did today? It was so gross,” Kira said, taking a seat next to him at the lunch table. She didn’t notice when he scooted away from her the smallest distance.

“What?” TJ replied shortly.

“He kissed his husband on the cheek in the middle of the hallway. Why the hell did he think it was okay to be shoving that in our faces? And better yet, why does no one else seem to think it’s gross?” Kira complained, laughing.

No one thought it was bad? He could’ve been open about it this whole time?

There really was nothing wrong with him.

With some newfound confidence, TJ began to stand up and responded, “Because, Kira, no one else is stuck in the fucking 1900s. First, you make me feel bad about myself for no goddamn reason, and now this? I’m sick of it, and I can’t be around you anymore.”

TJ walked off, knowing that he could’ve told her off way better than that, but he had more important things on his mind at that moment. More important people.

After making the smallest detour, he headed over the the GHC’s lunch table, chocolate chocolate chip muffin in hand.

He watched Cyrus’ eyes grow wide as he approached them, but before he could stand up and leave him behind, he said, “I have a lot of explaining to do, if you’ll let me.”

“Yes, thank god,” Buffy sighed.

“No.”

She turned to Cyrus and asked incredulously, “No? What do you mean no?”

Cyrus shrugged, looking down at the table. “I meant no. I’m over this.”

“Oh.” TJ set the muffin down on the table, a somber look on his face. “Okay, I’ll just... get out of your hair, then.”

He began to walk away slowly, and Cyrus’ eyes flickered between him and the muffin he left behind. He winced and called out, “Wait.”

TJ turned around at the speed of light.

“Fine. I’ll hear you out.” Cyrus stood up, not making eye contact with anyone on his way out of the cafeteria. As he passed by TJ, he called out, “Swings,” and TJ quickly trailed behind him.

If you leave the light on

TJ took a seat on his usual swing, while Cyrus just stood next to the pole, arms crossed and eyes pointed to the dull mulch.

“Why did you ditch me?” Cyrus mumbled. “You’re the one who asked in the first place.”

TJ sighed, his knuckles gripping the chains turning a bright white. “The day before costume day, I was playing basketball in the park. When I was done, Kira came up to me asking if I wanted to do a costume with her. I told her no, I was all set because I was going to do a costume with you, which is true. I was so excited about it, Cy, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much fun it was going to be,” he began explaining.

“That still doesn’t explain why you ditched me, TJ,” Cyrus replied bitterly.

“I’m not done,” TJ responded, then continued, “She kept pushing, saying that her costume was this great idea. I kept telling her no, I’m doing this cool inside joke with you. And then she said,” he took a deep breath, “‘So you’d rather do a costume with Cyrus than with me? Have fun with that.’ The way she said it, it was like she was implying something, like she figured something out that I wasn’t ready for people to know yet.”

Cyrus had visibly softened at that, now making eye contact with TJ. It was obvious that he wasn’t trying to push too hard. “What... what did she imply exactly, just so I’ve gotten this all straight?”

TJ chuckled to himself. None of this was all straight. He took another big sigh and answered, “She implied that, um, well, that I’m gay. She made me feel so bad about it, like it was wrong. I thought everyone would think the same. Plus, the way she said it, I thought she was going to do something, like out me. So, I took the coward’s way out.”

Cyrus took a seat next to him, laying his hand on top of TJ’s on the chain of his swing. He reassured him, “Hey, you were not being a coward. Sure, some heads up about not doing the costume would’ve been nice, but you were only trying to protect yourself. I know exactly how you feel.”

TJ smiled softly, looking down at his lap. “Thanks.” He then quickly furrowed his eyebrows and said, “Wait, what do you mean you know how I feel?”

Cyrus laughed quietly, “I was not expecting to do this today, but I’m gay too, TJ.”

A massive grin broke out on TJ’s face. “Cool.”

Cyrus nudged him with his elbow. “You’re such a dork.”

“Only around you,” TJ replied. “So we’re good now?”

“Yeah,” Cyrus replied, a soft look on his face that could only be described as fond. “We’re good.”

Then I'll leave the light on

#andi mack #tyrus #cyrus goodman #tj kippen #my fic #fic

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i-am-church-the-cat · 6 years ago

Text

Play Me A Memory

So, I finished it. It was long. I wrote the last few parts about ready to keel over so don’t kill me, please. Anyway, here’s the singer!Cyrus and pianist!TJ fic I promised y’all

Word Count: 10k+

--------

Cyrus and Jonah paced around backstage, both boys trying to not have panic attacks. Andi looked at them with a concerned expression, trying to think of a way to calm them down. She played with her girlfriend Buffy’s fingers as she thought, leaning back into the other girl. Buffy was pretending to be exasperated by the boys’ nervousness, but Buffy was also worried about what was coming next. The friends were about to perform a set in front of hundreds of people. Plus, scouts from Westerlin Music and Sound Academy were rumored to be in the crowd.

Westerlin Music and Sound Academy was the top music school on the continent. It had been the band’s dream to go there since they had made the band back in freshman year. Jonah had started in music in seventh grade and when track and basketball season had both finished, Buffy had ended up letting her dad teach her how to play the drums. In eighth grade, the two had found out that Andi had a secret talent: she could play the keyboard. They just happened to discover this talent when they overheard Andi playing a song she was going to use to confess her feelings to Buffy. It worked pretty well, in the girls’ opinions.

They now had a drummer, a keyboard player, and a lead guitarist/lead singer. Bowie had even let them use the Red Rooster for practices and loaned them instruments. The only problem was that Jonah couldn't cover all the vocals himself and Andi and Buffy were both hopeless in that aspect. Plus, all great bands had a bassist, Jonah implored. So, they went in search of one. They did auditions for weeks, but they were no closer to finding anyone who fit with them. They had officially given up the summer before sophomore year. Then one day, Cyrus came with them to one of their practices at the Red Rooster. He was doing homework while the band worked on one particularly difficult song.

“Uggh”, Jonah exclaimed after missing another note. “I can’t do this. This song is supposed to be split between a bassist and an electric guitarist. It’s too much.” The girl’s looked at the singer nervously, trying to figure out a way to calm him down, but they knew he was right.

“Let me see”, Cyrus said, grabbing the sheet music off of Jonah’s stand. He examined it before looking over to the girl’s and asking if there was more. They found another copy and gave it to him. Cyrus set the copy on a stand, grabbed a bass off of a stand in the corner of the room, and then nodded at Buffy to count them in. She did and started playing, Andi joining in and soon Jonah. They were coming upon the point where the bass was supposed to join in and they were sure it was going to be terrible. But the notes came and Cyrus did the unimaginable. He played perfectly, his notes fluid and precise. But he wasn’t done. Jonah started singing and Andi was preparing to try to do back up, but before she could, Cyrus cut her off. His voice was surprisingly pleasing to hear and he hit the notes almost better than Jonah. The band played the entire song all the way through and when they were done, Jonah, Andi, and Buffy turned to stare incredulously at the Jewish boy who was giving them a bright smile.

Finally, Buffy couldn’t take anymore, “How in the world did you know how to do that. You can play bass? You can SING?! Why didn’t you tell us, you knew we were looking for a backup singer. How did we not know this?”

Cyrus’s smile turned shy. “My step-dad had been teaching me how to play the bass. You guys were all so musically talented and I wanted to be able to do something as well, too, so I asked him to teach me. Then, when my voice changed, I found I could sing really well. I already knew I had perfect pitch but I had never been able to actually hit the notes before. So, I practiced a little bit before I was confident enough to show you guys. I was planning on surprising you, but I figured that you needed me right now.”

The group continued to stare at the boy in shock. Suddenly, a large smile broke out on Jonah’s face. “Well girls, It looks like we have our last member.”

Ever since then, they had been practicing and performing together in Shadyside and surrounding cities. Not everyone liked them, but the amount of support they got was a pleasant surprise. They had a small following and were known throughout Grant as being “surprisingly pretty great for a cover band”, comments of the school newspaper. They had gotten better over the last two years and had decided to participate in Utah’s Battle of the Band’s their senior year. They had gotten all the way to the finals, where the two band’s that were left would perform a set of about five songs. The had argued about the set list for days before eventually settling on:

“Runaway” Bon Jovi

“Lady Madona” The Beatles

“All the Way from Memphis” Mott The Hoople

“Should I Stay or Should I Go” The Clash

“Let It Be” The Beatles

Buffy and Jonah had argued that they shouldn’t do two songs by the same artists, or if they were it was going to be Bon Jovi, but Cyrus and Andi had argued that, though Bon Jovi was a rock classic, The Beatles are indisputably one of the best bands of all time and would be more likely to gain them favor with the judges. In the end, Buffy and Jonah couldn’t dispute that, ergo, two Beatles’ songs.

Now, here they were, about to perform in front of the largest crowd they had ever faced(except for Buffy who had played and won the girls state championship all four years of high school) and two of their members were about to spontaneously combust. Buffy would have joined the boys in their pacing, but she was busy holding Andi, her girlfriend of four years now. As the nerves started to get the better of her, Buffy pulled the smaller girl closer to her chest.

The boys were still performing their destructive thought processes when a stagehand came up to the group. The four immediately whipped their heads toward them and they took a slight step back. “Uh, you’re on in five”, they told the group before hurrying off to whatever their next task was. This, surprisingly, seemed to calm Jonah, Buffy, and Cyrus down. The four of them exchanged glances with each other before heading over to the side of the stage. They looked out onto the stage where their competition was currently performing. They were good, that was a fact none of them could deny. But they were going to win. They were going to play until their bodies gave out until they couldn’t produce one more note, and they were going to win. It was a fact no one could dispute.

The other band finished their set and were met with roaring applause. The members smiled smugly at the small town kids as they passed them. The group was unfazed. They approached their respective instruments calmly and got set. They faced the crowd and they each took a deep breath. Buffy counted them off and then it was only them and the music. They had practiced this set so many times, they had had dreams of playing it. Even the toughest music critic wouldn’t be able to find a flaw in the band’s performance. The songs might not have been their own, but it was their music. They made it come alive unlike anyone in that hall had ever seen. The crowd was in awe.

As the last note faded into silence, the band became acutely aware of the crowd. Jonah was sure he was about to start panicking when a roar went through the crowd. The audience rose like a wave, cheering louder than even when Buffy had scored the winning basket in the state championship a few months ago. The band looked out in wonder as the crowd chanted their name. It was something out of a dream. Buffy, ever the leader, took Andi by the hand and pulled her up to where the boys stood together. The other band trudged onto the stage solemnly. The two competitors stood next to each other as the announcer called the winners. The other group never had a chance.

-----

Two weeks later, Cyrus woke up to his phone ringing off the hook. “Hello”, he answered, not even bothering to check it.

“CYRUS!”, screamed Andi on the other line. “Guess who just reached out to Bowie?”

“A hand?”, Cyrus answered jokingly.

“Westerlin Music and Sound Academy, dummy”, Buffy, who had taken the phone from Andi, answered. Cyrus was awake.

“No way, what did they want to talk about?”

“They want a meeting with us”, Buffy replied. Cyrus could hear Andi squealing in the background.

“Oh my god, does Jonah know?”, Cyrus asked, not believing his ears.

“No, we were just about to tell him”, Andi answered, having reclaimed the phone.

“Here lets all facetime him”, Cyrus offered, pulling the phone away from his face. Andi hummed her consent and hung up. Cyrus opened the facetime app and got on a joint call with Jonah and Andi. Andi picked up and the window showed her and Buffy curled up together on the couch. Buffy’s dad was on a business trip for the weekend, so Buffy was staying with her girlfriend. Cyrus had been so excited when they had gotten together, even if he did end up third-wheeling a lot. They were so perfect together and Cyrus couldn’t be happier.

Jonah picked up on the third ring, looking rumpled and sleep-deprived. “What’s so important that you have to call me at 9:40 in the morning?”, he asked blearily.

“JONAH!”, Andi and Cyrus shrieked in unison, causing the older boy to jump. “Westerlin Music and Sound Academy want to meet with us!”

The Boy’s face broke into a huge smile as he sat up in his bed. “No way, that’s awesome! When?”

“This Friday at one o’clock at the Red Rooster”, Buffy answered. The band had made the Red Rooster their official headquarters junior year, the same year that Bowie had bought it from its owner to keep it from becoming another chain store. The band had performed to raise money to put in a small recording studio for when they started recording some of Jonah’s songs. It was the perfect place to meet people who had an interest in them.

“Oh my god, this is so amazing”, Andi squealed again. Cyrus and the others agreed. They had been hoping for something like this for forever. Cyrus wasn’t surprised, though. Everyone had been great at the BotB. It was something these guys deserved after all the long hours they had put in. Not to mention how stressed Buffy and Jonah were.

The band talked for a while before deciding to meet at the Spoon for celebratory milkshakes. Buffy said you shouldn’t celebrate before the game is over, but one look from her girlfriend ended that argument. They weren't going to meet until noon, so Cyrus decided to pull up Westerlin’s website for like, the umpteenth time since the boy had heard about them. Its header was a sprawling picture of the campus with a menu bar below it. Cyrus scrolled through the upcoming events before his eye caught one:

Classical Training Program Auditions

Monday, May 8th, 9:00 am

Robert Basil Music Hall, Hansen, Utah

Hey, that isn’t too far from here, Cyrus thought. Maybe he could convince the others to come. Then, he thought of the implications of the band at a classical audition. Nah. Cyrus was really the only one in the band who could enjoy the intricacies of classical music. The others, though able to enjoy a few pieces every now and again, would not be able to sit through multiple hours of music without lyrics in a fancy hall. Despite this, Cyrus felt an urge to go. If he was correct in assuming that Westerlin wanted him and the band to attend the school, he should start paying attention to other genres and potential rivals. The thought of being against anyone was slightly disconcerting, but Cyrus knew that if he wanted to attend the school, he would have to outperform the best of the best. The only problem was that he needed to find the best, first.

Cyrus continued to scroll through the University’s website until it was time to leave. He told his mom that he was going out with the others and that he would be back in a few hours. Cyrus grabbed his wallet and keys and was soon walking down toward the diner. Normally he would drive, but he wanted to enjoy the scenery that came with Shadyside in the springtime. He was always so stressed about school or the band or his future, that Cyrus rarely took time to just look around. The walk was not too long but it gave him ample time to just relax and take everything in. He enjoyed the relative silence knowing that it would be quite ruined when he reached he and his friend’s normal hangout. Cyrus was almost tired of being right.

As soon as the boy walked into the confines of the blue and white eatery, he was assaulted by loud sounds and the invasion of his personal space. The Spoon was packed. People were spilling out of the booths and crowding around the tables. Some friends and significant others were sitting on each other's laps. Cyrus was sure that they had exceeded the legal limit for customers, but he shook that thought out of his head. He looked around and found his friends sitting in a secluded booth in the corner. The small teen pushed through the crowd to reach his three friends.

Andi squealed when she saw him approaching. “Westerlin, guys! Can you believe it?” Her cry was answered by a fond look from Buffy, a small shake of the head from Jonah, and a bright smile from Cyrus. The group talked about what could happen at the meeting, all the sets they would play at the annual music presentation put on by the school, and what classes they could end up taking. The group talked for hours, the diner slowly emptying of its other patrons. When it started getting the dark, the band realized the time.

“Oh, we should get going”, Andi said, nudging her girlfriend.

“Date night?”, Cyrus asked as the couples slid out of the booth.

“Date night”, Buffy confirmed before they were out the door. Cyrus got up and switched to the other side to talk to Jonah better. The other boy gave him a smile, though it was clear to Cyrus that the boy wasn’t all there. Probably thinking about song lyrics, Cyrus thought as he sipped his drink. The two boys sat in comfortable silence while the sky steadily got darker. Cyrus supposed he would have to go home soon, but his thoughts were interrupted when he noticed Jonah staring at him.

“What?”, Cyrus asked, coming to attention.

“I think I like someone.” This was quite a shock to Cyrus. Jonah had had a plethora of girlfriends in middle school but after his second break-up with Amber, he hadn’t dated anyone. Cyrus had started to think that maybe Jonah was ace/aro and that dating the girls in middle school was just what he thought he should do, like what he did with Iris. This was a relatively big announcement.

“Really?”, Cyrus said loudly and Jonah gave him a look. “What’s her name?”, he asked in a quieter tone.

“Um, well”, Jonah began, looking down at the table, his hands fidgeting nervously. “It’s not a girl.”

Cyrus smiled and took Jonah’s fidgeting hands. The other boy looked up and Cyrus gave him the most reassuring smile he could muster.

“What’s his name?”, Cyrus asked softly.

“H-His name’s Reed. You don’t know him. I met him at the concert a few weeks ago and we’ve been talking. I-I think I really like him, Cy”, Jonah said softly. “Also, I’m bi, by the way.”

“Well, I’m glad you could come to me with this. Does Reed know you like him?”

“I don’t think so, I only figured it out while I was sitting here.”

“Well you can be a little oblivious, Jonah Beck”, Cyrus teased. Jonah rolled his eyes and nudged Cyrus’s arm. The two boys smiled at each other for a bit before Cyrus realized that he should probably leave if he wants to get up early enough to make it to the audition’s tomorrow. The boy’s exchanged ‘good-nights’ and went there separate ways.

-----

TJ tugged at his suit nervously adjusting his collar and his cuffs. His friend Reed noticed his fidgeting and tugged his hands away from his clothes.

“Hey, calm down. You’ve been practicing for weeks, and even my punk ass knows that you’re awesome. You’re going to rock this”, he insisted, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him as if it would help loosen him up.

“He’s right, dude”, his other friend Marty agreed. “You’ve practiced your butt off. There’s no way they won’t take you.” TJ smiled gratefully at his friends. TJ had known Reed since kindergarten, and TJ and Marty had played basketball together before track took over Marty’s life. TJ and Reed dated in middle school, and TJ had really gotten to know Marty after Marty broke up with Reed freshman year. TJ had also dated Marty for a bit, but they had soon come to terms that they were better off as friends.

Reed and Marty had made a duo thing sophomore year, and they had already flown through their audition last week with their guitar/drum duo. They wouldn’t be getting their results for another week, but it was pretty clear that they had been the best group there. Now, TJ was at his own audition and he was freaking out. But not about what his friends thought.

“Thanks, guys, but I’ve worked harder for this than basketball. It’s just”, TJ paused, scanning the crowd again before turning back to his friends. “He’s not here.”

The two bandmates exchanged glances before turning back to the pianist. Marty offered him a sympathetic smile, but Reed gave him a look. TJ knew how they felt about his boyfriend, trust him he knew, but Alex had been TJ’s constant since his dad left. Yeah, he had Reed and Marty, but they had been to close to the situation and they didn’t really know how to help. Alex had held him up while TJ tried to take care of his mom and sister, and they had been together for the last two years. In those two years, things had become more strained between them, though, and the relationship probably wasn’t worth what TJ did to maintain it. Still, he didn’t want to give it up, and it wasn’t like Alex was trying to destroy their relationship. Though, he wasn’t doing much to preserve it, either.

Like today. Alex had been busy with family stuff the past few weeks, so they hadn’t gotten to see each other as much. He had promised that he would come to TJ’s audition and support him, but it was almost time for him to go on and Alex was nowhere to be seen. TJ checked his phone again, but there were no new messages from his boyfriend. The performer on stage was coming to their finale and it was almost time for TJ to go out. He turned back to his friends who were giving a mixed look of sympathy and encouragement before the stagehand indicated that it was time to go out.

TJ walked out and stood next to the piano before turning to address the judges. “Good morning. I am Tobias Kippen, and I will be playing Liszt's Liebestraume No. 3.” The judges jotted down a few things before the head judge signaled for him to begin. TJ sat down on the bench and took a deep breath before scanning the audience one last time. But the door stayed closed and Alex was nowhere to be seen. His eyes landed on a brown-haired boy at the end of a row. He couldn’t make out much of his features due to the lights in his face, but he could see that he was paying rapt attention, even more than some of the judges. TJ grinned for a reason he didn’t really understand before laying his fingers carefully on the keys. TJ closed his eyes before bringing the first notes to life.

TJ started off rather formal, playing the song as it was written. But as the pace got faster and the notes got louder, he pushed all of his feelings into them, the emotions roaring. The song cooled down and he got smoother, the notes coming out like buds in springtime, as he delved farther into the song. The notes seemed to communicate with each other, sometimes soft, sometimes crying out in bursts. The emotion in the song was the reason why he picked it, he could make people feel things through this song, but now he was regretting putting in so much emotion. He felt like he was tearing out his soul and was showing it for all the world to see. As the song faded out, he was scared to open his eyes. Gently, he pulled his hands away from the instrument and stood up.

Slowly, he turned to face the audience. He meant to look at the judges but he found his eyes landing on the brown-haired boy. His features were still obscured, but his eyes glowed. It was like the boy could feel the same emotions TJ himself was feeling. He found the boy staring right back at him and he was unable to look away. The audience applauded and he realized it was time for him to go. He tore his eyes away from the boy and walked to the eaves. Backstage, his friends were fist pumping and congratulating him. TJ smiled, but his mind drifted back to the boy in the audience. I wonder what his name is, TJ thought before heading off to change. He wouldn’t learn the results for a while, so there was no point in hanging around.

The trip made their way to a diner that they frequently populated and slid into a booth. It wasn’t too busy so a waitress came over right away.

“Hey guys”, the waitress, Sam said. Sam was an honorary member of their group. They had met her the start of sophomore year when she moved from Boston. She was epic, she had the best wingtips TJ ever saw and they really brought out her grey eyes. She had blond hair that was always highlighted with different colors, today’s being purple and green. She had come out as a lesbian at the end of junior year and had stolen Reed and Marty’s potential interests more than once.

“Hey Sam”, TJ said, while the other two scarfed down the fries Sam had knowingly brought to the table.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t go to your audition, Teej, but how did it go?”, Sam asked.

“It was awesome!”, Reed exclaimed, though his mouth was full so it came out more like “if hars aresome”.

“Yeah”, Marty continued. “Seriously, I’m pretty sure that’s the best you’ve ever played, dude.”

TJ shrugged and slumped back in his seat. Marty and Sam exchange looks while Reed continued to fill his mouth. TJ knew why they were concerned, they thought he was hung up about Alex. In all honesty, TJ hadn’t really expected him to show up. Sure, it would’ve been a pleasant surprise, but TJ could tell that whatever Alex had going on was just a way to avoid TJ and their crumbling relationship. No, TJ was bothered that while his relationship was worn and fraying, he was caught up on some guy he saw, one who he wouldn’t even recognize if he saw him again. TJ sighed. I’m all kinds of a mess, he thought. At least I can do music well.

————

Cyrus walked up to his friends who were freaking out in the backroom of Red Rooster Records. They all look quite frazzled, but Cyrus was unusually calm. Maybe because he wasn’t entirely focused on the meeting about to take place. Cyrus hadn’t been able to get the image of that blonde guy at the piano, nor the sound of the piano. He had found the song that the guy, Tobias, had been playing, but it sounded nothing like the way he played it. It just lacked the emotions that the guy’s playing had given him. He could still hear the song playing faintly in his head.

He was snapped out of his memory by Bowie approaching them with a man and a woman in formal attire. They exchanged pleasantries before heading into the studio’s meeting room. The woman explained how they had liked their performance and that they thought the band could go quite far in the music game. They ended their pitch with scholarships to Westerlin for the four of them, and even though they tried to play it cool, Cyrus thought Andi had replied a little too eagerly.

The rest of the meeting was filled with signing papers and discussing the terms of their scholarships. They would all go to classes and they would perform at school venues regularly. They would be playing with other bands that share our style regularly, so it was a key factor to get the best spots in the show so that you more well-known when the entire year plays at the showcase in the winter. The band nodded along, understanding. When they had finished everything, the two officials had shaken their hands and left, leaving the band to freak out in peace.

Cyrus smiled at his friend’s antics as they jumped around the room, Buffy spinning Andi around and Jonah fist pumping. I wonder if that guy got in, Cyrus thought as Bowie patted him on the back.

-------

TJ paced around his room while his sister Amber lounged on his bed. It was a week after the audition and the results were supposed to be sent out today. Reed and Marty had already gotten their letters and were going to start moving up there next month. Sure, TJ had gotten a lot of offers for basketball, and he had some pretty good schools to fall back on, but it was more the fact knowing that even his best couldn’t get him into a school like this.

“Calm down”, Amber said, not even looking up from her phone. “There’s nothing you can do right now. If you get in, you get in if you don’t, you don’t.”

Amber had gotten into NYU last year and according to her, she was “on top of both the class and the social ladder”, though TJ wasn’t so sure since she was home at least two weeks early and checking her messages every other minute. She claimed that she had just finished her exams early and she was looking to see what classes she could sign up for next year. Ok, Amber, flashed across TJ’s mind before the worry set in again. When TJ started to think that maybe he was overexaggerating, his computer pinged.

All thoughts of overexaggerating left his head as he dove toward his desk. He saw the new notification badge and an email from Westerlin beneath it. Now that the email was here, TJ started freaking out even more. He stared at his inbox for a while before grabbing a small rubber basketball he had on his desk and tossing it between his hands. Again, he started to pace, still tossing the basketball. Amber, supposedly sensing his distress, finally looked up from her phone.

“Did you get in?”, she asked, confused.

“Haven’t looked yet”, his simple reply came. She gaped at him before throwing a pillow at his head.

“Well, look already!” TJ glared at his sister before sighing and turning back towards his computer. He sighed and, knowing he had to do it eventually, stalked over to his laptop and clicked on the notification. Amber threw another pillow at him.

------2 MONTHS LATER: MOVING DAY FOR THE GHC+JONAH

Cyrus hauled his luggage up the stairs, trailing behind Jonah as they made they’re way to their dorms. Buffy and Andi had their own buildings across the street and the boys had already helped them up to their dorm, though they had stayed behind to set their’s up. They said that they would help bring up the rest of the boys’ stuff when they were done. So now, Jonah and Cyrus were hauling what they could carry up the dorms to find they’re rooms. Finally, they made it to their floor.

“Looks like we’re across the hall from each other”, Jonah said. There were whiteboards on all the doors, and on two parallel entrances were the names ‘Cyrus Goodman’ and ‘Jonah Beck’, both below two unfamiliar names. Cyrus sighed, disappointed to not be with his friend, but he shot the boy a smile and went to open his door.

Cyrus had opened the door and was carrying his suitcases into the room before he noticed two people lounging on a bed. He looked up suddenly to see two blonde boys, one rather skinny, the other obviously experienced in years of athletics, and rather familiar.

“Oh”, Cyrus said surprised, straightening up. “I’m sorry I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

The athletic boy laughed, and sound that gave Cyrus a slight tingle in the bottom of his stomach.

“It’s no problem dude, Cyrus?”, he asked, standing up and offering his hand, which Cyrus shook, not taking his eyes off of the boy’s. “TJ Kippen. This is my friend, Reed.”

Cyrus was reminded of where he had seen the boy when Jonah appeared.

“Hey Cy, need any…”, Jonah trailed off as his eyes landed on the blonde boy on the bed. Reed’s eyes seemed to shine less with mischief and more with pleasant surprise when Jonah appeared.

“H-Hey”, Jonah stuttered, cheeks darkening.

“Hey”, Reed answered, sitting up a little straighter. The boys just stared at each other while the two roommates looked back and forth between them.

“I’m guessing your Camp Guy?”, TJ asked Jonah, breaking him out of his boy-induced daze.

“Camp Guy?”, he asked with his usual obliviousness while Reed threw a pillow at TJ, giving him a glare. TJ laughed as Reed started to ramble.

“It’s nothing, he’s being an idiot, as usual, let’s go outside”, Reed pulled Jonah from the room and down the hall before Cyrus could interject.

TJ watched the two go with a smile on his face before turning back to Cyrus. He looked over his stuff before picking his luggage up and carrying it to the other bed. Cyrus, already quite surprised at the revelation of his roommate's identity, was even more confused when he did this. Nonetheless, he was able to get some form of thought out.

“I know you”, Cyrus blurted. TJ turned back and raised his eyebrow and Cyrus quickly carried on. “At least, I saw you, at the classical auditions. Y-You were really good. But you introduced yourself as Tobias.”

TJ got a strange look on his face, a mix between surprise, recognition, and another emotion Cyrus couldn’t make out. Suddenly, he was really close and he was staring into Cyrus’s eyes. Cyrus felt like he couldn’t breathe as he stood frozen underneath the other boy’s gaze. With his eyes boring into him, Cyrus couldn’t help but get a little bit lost in them.

“It’s you”, TJ murmured, before his eyes really started to focus on Cyrus. The boys stayed frozen, just looking at each other. Suddenly, TJ seemed to realize what he was doing and quickly backed out of Cyrus’s personal space. Cyrus could immediately feel the lack of his presence.

TJ looked down and cleared his throat nervously. “Well, uh, do need help moving your stuff?

-------FIRST DAY OF CLASSES

TJ cracked open his eyes as his alarm continued to blare. Across the room, Cyrus groaned and rolled up tighter in his cocoon. TJ smiled tiredly at the sight before reaching over to shut off his alarm. Inch by inch he got out of bed, before finally escaping his comfort cave. He sighed before grabbing his bathroom stuff, shaking Cy a little bit to get him moving, and heading to the showers. On his way there, he contemplated the last month since he’d met Cyrus.

It was obvious--to TJ anyway--that they had been drawn to each other from the start, something that could be quite dangerous in the long run. Especially since TJ was still with Alex, though you wouldn’t know unless you had talked to Reed or Marty, which, unfortunately, Cyrus had. Now that Reed and Jonah were dating/not dating and Buffy and Marty had basically been joined at the hip due to their bi-ness and love of percussion, their friend groups were properly tangled. Which might not be the best thing when you’re interested in someone who wasn’t your boyfriend.

As TJ properly tried to decipher the mess he got himself in, he quickly got ready for the first day of classes. Well, the first day of general classes, TJ and the rest of the classical program had already had their first uniform lessons. The classes for the less specific programs and the general course classes only started today. These were the classes the others were taking and the few courses TJ would share with the rest of his friends, some of which also had specific courses.

TJ went back to his room, where Cyrus was stumbling around, gathering his stuff in a tired daze. A smile formed on his face at the sight and help direct the tired boy around the room and out the door. When his roommate had gone, TJ gathered up his stuff and shoved them in his bag, though he doubted he would need many books. He paused for a minute, before getting Cyrus’s stuff ready as well. Cyrus came in, showered, dressed, and a little more awake, while TJ was rechecking their class schedules. TJ looked up with a smile to find Cyrus looking at him sleepily, making TJ’s heart stutter.

“Uh, um”, TJ articulated gracefully, pulling his eyes away from the brunette. “We should get going. Is Jonah up?”

“Uh, yeah, he said he’d meet us downstairs”, Cyrus replied, turning his face away, but not before TJ caught a slight blush on it.

“Cool, I guess we should head down, then”, TJ said offering Cyrus his bag, which he accepted bashfully. The two roommates then made they’re way downstairs where they found Reed and Jonah talking with Marty shooting Reed looks that he was ignoring.

“Hey, y’all ready to go?”, Marty asked, seeing the boys coming down the stairs.

“Let’s roll”, Reed replied, draping his arm across Jonah’s shoulders and making the other boy blush. The five of them headed out and met up with Buffy and Andi, also draped against each other. When they reached the main school building, Andi, Jonah, and Marty split off to their own classes, leaving Reed, Cyrus, Buffy, and TJ to head to their morning class.

The four walked into the building with little thought of the class inside. Cyrus seemed to be the only one paying attention because the other three nearly walked past the classroom. The four entered the room to find a few rows of rafters, different instruments scattered around the room, a desk at the front, and about 20 kids scattered across the room in groups. Reed and Cyrus went to check out the guitars, Buffy the two sets of drums in the corner, and TJ walked over to the baby grand in the back, the only abandoned instrument. Guess there aren’t a lot of classical musicians in this class.

------

The kids wandered around examining the instruments for a while when suddenly the door opened again, revealing a middle-aged man in jeans and a leather jacket. Everything about him reminded Cyrus of Bowie.

“Well, you guys sure seem excited”, he said with a grin, walking over to the desk and shrugging off his jacket and revealing a t-shirt for a band Cyrus didn’t recognize. The kids chuckled and settled down, lounging on whatever free area there was in the room as the teacher went through roll call.

“Ok”, the man began, clapping his hands together. “Welcome to General Sound 101. In this class, we’ll be combining all different type of musicians together to create sounds that aren’t very mainstream. I know a lot of you got here through your own bands, but our goal in this class is to pull apart and reorganize people to create something new.”

The kids nodded, though a few seemed apprehensive of the idea, Cyrus included. He didn’t know how well he could play without his bands. Sure, he knew he could in essence, but it wasn’t something he was very confident in.

“Reed Glas, Jonah Beck, and Buffy Driscoll”, the teacher said, drawing the classes attention. He waved his hand and they came up to his desk. He said a few things before handing them all sheet music and directing them toward their respective instruments. Buffy got her sticks and sat at the drums, and Jonah and Reed both picked up guitars before saying a few words to each other. They seemed to come to an agreement because they soon started playing. Cyrus knew exactly what they were playing and grinned as Reed began to sing.

“I’ll be strumming my ax in a basement dive, with my totally kickass band…”

The trio really started to get into it as the reached the chorus.

“When I climb to the top of Mount Rock. And I’m there staring down from the heights…”

The class really started to get into it and Cyrus was very amused by the fact that they were singing a song from a musical, knowing Buffy’s and Jonah’s opinions on them. They were starting to reach the piano part and Cyrus was wondering how they were going to pull it when he heard the notes coming from the back. TJ was sitting at the instrument like it was made for him. He spared a look up and he and Reed shared a grin as the song got faster and Buffy and Jonah joined back in. When the trio was back to their pure rock song, TJ slid off the bench and strolled over to Cyrus as the watched Jonah riff. The song ended to applause from the class.

“Well, I see you know your musical theater”, the teacher said, also clapping.

“Musical theater?”, Buffy asked in disbelief causing Cyrus to burst out laughing. The teacher grinned before heading back over to his desk.

“Cyrus Goodman”, the teacher suddenly called, causing Cyrus to snap his head up. “Don McLean, 1971.”

Cyrus grinned. Way too easy, he thought as he pulled a confused TJ toward the piano. There was sheet music on the stand and Cyrus didn’t have to shuffle around too much before he found it and set it in front of him. Cyrus turned around, hoping to get some help, but one guy was already getting on the drums, and a girl and boy were strapping on an electric guitar and a bass. They looked up and nodded at Cyrus who grinned and indicated for TJ to start.

“A long, long time ago, I can still remember how that music used to make me smile…”, Cyrus began as TJ started to play. As he sang the opening verses, he started making his way over to an acoustic guitar, strapping it on.

“I can’t remember if I cried when I read about his widowed bride. But something touched me deep inside, the day the music died....”

Cyrus started strumming as he sang and he knew that’s when he caught them. Buffy and Jonah stared at him just like that first day as the others joined in. The song was long, but it was definitely one of Cyrus's favorites. Unlike most of the songs today, it told an actual story. It was one of the only songs that made Cyrus feel like he could do anything in the world. He closed his eyes as the music washed over him. He could tell it was affecting the class as well. Cyrus had never played with any of the others who had risen to help, but he could feel the connection the song was giving them. The song faded back to piano and Cyrus relaxed walking back over to TJ, who was focused intensely since he’d never played this song before.

“And they were singing, “Bye, bye, Miss American Pie…”

Cyrus strummed as the others joined in making up the chorus. The last notes fell away and Cyrus was hit with an overwhelming sense of calm. The class applauded and Cyrus thanked the people who had helped, before heading over to his friends, who were still awestruck.

“So, what did you guys think?”, he asked, knowing he was being a little cocky.

“Cy-Cyrus”, Buffy got out.

“When did you learn that?”, Jonah asked.

Cyrus shrugged. “My dad played it a lot, so I figured I would learn how to play it, though I only know the vocals, bass, and acoustic guitar parts.

Reed shook his head, “Well, aren’t you full of surprises.”

Cyrus chuckled before turning back to TJ who was smiling back at him.

“Thanks for coming to help. I didn’t know any other piano players”, Cyrus said.

“It was no problem, Cy. It’s a good song, and if you like it so much, maybe I should learn it.”

Cyrus blushed, but before he could answer, their professor was calling up more people and the process started again.

------

It was two weeks later and Cyrus and TJ were in their room working on assignments, Cyrus strumming his bass and TJ trying out cords on the keyboard he had gotten. Suddenly, Reed burst through their door.

“Dude”, he said quickly. “Did you know Alex was here?”

“What?”, TJ said jumping up.

“I saw him in the lobby”, Reed cried. “I rushed up before he could see me.”

“Are-”, TJ was cut off by his phone ringing. He felt like an animal trapped in a corner. That’s absurd, you haven’t done anything, he thought, but he just because it was true, didn’t mean he believed it. TJ grabbed his phone and clicked the answer button before answering.

“Hey, babe, what’s up?”, he asked on reflex.

“Nothing much”, he answered. “Just hanging out in the lobby of your dorm building.”

“Really?”, TJ asked, trying to sound surprised.

“Reed told you, didn’t he?”, he replied, unimpressed.

“Yeah, but it’s still a surprise. I’ll be down in a sec okay?”

“Yeah, see you in a bit.”

TJ hung up and slipped his phone into his pocket before throwing on a shirt and slipping on his sneakers. He was just about to leave when a voice made him stop in his tracks.

“Your boyfriend’s here?”, Cyrus asked from his bed. Seeing him sitting there sent butterflies to his stomach and a stake through his heart.

“Yeah”, TJ answered. Cyrus nodded and looked down at his bass, strumming out a melancholy chord. All TJ wanted to do was sit back down and maybe listen to Cyrus sing again, but he didn’t. He made himself turn around and head out the door, making his way to his boyfriend. Your boyfriend, TJ’s head reminded him. Who came all the way from SLC to see you.

TJ’s head was still full of worries as he walked into the lobby. He looked around and saw his boyfriend leaning up against a wall staring down at his phone. The sight of him used to send butterflies to TJ’s stomach, but now he just felt guilty. TJ took a breath to steady himself and made his way over to Alex. When he got close, he looked up and his signature smile appeared on his face, though his eyes didn’t quite match it. TJ forced a smile before kissing him, but it was like kissing a stranger.

“Hey babe”, TJ said, trying to sound happy. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I had some business here and so I figured I’d come and surprise you”, Alex said, pushing back his too-long brown hair. “I haven’t seen you since I helped you move up.”

“How long are you staying?”, TJ asked, hoping not for too long.

“I have to meet some guys today, but I figured we could go get dinner tonight? My treat of course.”

“Y-Yeah”, TJ agreed surprised. It’d been months since Alex had planned a date. “Yeah, of course. What time?”

“Uh, seven?”, Alex suggested. TJ nodded and he flashed TJ a smile before kissing him on the cheek and taking off.

Once Alex was gone, TJ released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He sighed as he turned back around to find Reed standing a ways behind him. He had his arms crossed and was giving TJ a look that he promptly ignored. TJ headed back up the stairs and only relaxed once he had gotten to his door. He shot Reed, who had followed him up, a look before heading inside.

TJ didn’t look at Cyrus as he headed back to his bed, but he could feel his eyes all the way. He plopped onto his bed and pulled his keyboard back into his lap before glancing at Cyrus.

“What?”, he asked though it wasn’t defensive.

“Are you not going out with your boyfriend?”, he asked unabashedly.

TJ shrugged. “We have plans for later tonight but we both have stuff to do right now.”

“Oh”, Cyrus said quietly. TJ glances up to see Cyrus looking down at his sheet music, a slight smile on his face. TJ’s heart skipped a beat before he looked back down at his own music.

—————

Cyrus watched as TJ moved around their room, getting ready for his date. Thinking about TJ’s boyfriend downstairs sent a pang to his heart, so he moved his eyes up to his roommate. That wasn’t such a good idea he realized when he saw what the blonde boy was wearing. TJ might have been an athlete, but he was always finding ways to break gender norms. He had on dark-wash jeans and a pink cropped hoodie. He had done his eyeliner in Winehouse style and wore a little bit of foundation, but other than that his face was clean. He wore his hair mostly ungelled, but he wore his contacts since he was going out. Stunning, was the only thought Cyrus’s gay disaster brain could form.

When he saw Cyrus looking at him, TJ smirked in his usual infuriating way. He turned around and rummaged in his closet before pulling out two pairs of shoes. One pair were some uber-expensive kicks TJ almost never wore and some low-rise heeled boots.

“Whattya think?”, TJ asked, holding up the two pairs of shoes for Cyrus to see.

“Um”, Cyrus articulated gracefully. TJ quirked an eyebrow and Cyrus knew he was enjoying Cyrus’s meltdown.

“Boots”, Cyrus said suddenly. TJ gave him a slightly surprised look but nodded and put the sneakers back. He sat down on his bed to put on the boots. When he stood up, he was even taller, though the height difference between him and Cyrus was already so large, the added inch didn’t really do anything. TJ nodded, satisfied and smiled at Cyrus before giving him a small salute.

“See you later, Goodman. Don’t have too much fun without me”, TJ said as he grabbed his keys, phone, and wallet and left the dorm.

Cyrus sat on his bed for a while. He didn’t like how attached he’d gotten to TJ. Good job, Goodman, he thought. You went from crushing on straight guys to crushing on gay guys with a boyfriend. Cyrus groaned and flopped backward, hating life at that moment. He laid like that for a while before he felt his phone buzz. He checked it and saw it was his band. Apparently, they had been able to find an unbooked practice room and was wondering if he wanted to join them.

Cyrus didn’t even think about declining, standing up and pulling on his shoes and grabbing his keys and phone. He walked out of the dorm, his anger rising steadily higher. What was he angry at exactly? Cyrus couldn’t tell you. Maybe it was himself, maybe TJ, maybe TJ’s boyfriend, maybe the whole universe, but the only thing that mattered to Cyrus was that he was mad. He walked to the training rooms in a haze. He walked down hallway after hallway before finding the door. Cyrus slammed the door when he entered the music room.

“Cy?”, Andi’s concerned voice asked as the boy grabbed his bass. Instead of standing at his normal mic, he walked to center stage, prepping his guitar. He was too angry to feel guilty about not asking first, but the others seemed to know what he wanted. Cyrus scrolled through the electronic music sheets on the iPad standing in front of him. He finally found the song and sent it to the others. It wasn’t his normal genre, but it got the point across. He took a deep breath and the band began to play.

“Hey, hey, tell me what you want me to say. You know I’m stupid for you...”

Cyrus got lost in the music of the stupid song. He pushed all the emotions that he’d been holding back for the past few weeks and just played the new song as best he could. If his band was bothered or surprised, they didn’t show it. Cyrus doubted they had ever heard the song before, Cyrus didn’t until Marty had showed it to him, but none of them were complaining. If anything, Jonah was playing just as hard as Cyrus, though he didn’t know why since this limbo state he and Reed were at is usual where Jonah flourished. Things must have changed in the last four years.

Cyrus could feel his anger draining away as they closed out the song. He was breathing heavily and when the last notes where played, he flopped down onto the floor. He just sat there with his head buried in his arms while his band looked at him worriedly. Cyrus heard the door open and close, but he didn’t think anything of it. He only looked up when he felt another body sit down beside him. Jonah just sat next to him in silence for a bit before deciding to start talking.

“I don’t know where things are going with Reed”, he said, looking at his hands. “I know where I want things to go, but neither of us are the “let’s discuss our relationship” type of people.”

Jonah sighed. “I just wish I knew what he was thinking.”

“Why don’t you ask him?”, Cyrus asked quietly, his head still laying on his knees. Jonah shrugged before turning toward Cyrus and giving him a small smile.

“Why don’t you ask TJ what he’s thinking”, Jonah countered.

“That’s different”, Cyrus mumble, looking away. “He has a boyfriend.”

“Does he want that boyfriend?”

“I’m not going to let TJ cheat on his boyfriend because I like him”, Cyrus exclaimed exasperated.

“I never said you should”, Jonah replied. “I just meant that you should ask him if he would rather be with you.”

“I can’t do that Jonah”, Cyrus sighed. “I can’t get in between him and his boyfriend. And what if he says no? Then I have to share a room with a guy who rejected me because I asked him to break up with his boyfriend for me. Does that sound like a reasonable thing to do?”

Cyrus was quite exasperated now, but Jonah just shrugged and laid on his back. After a minute, Cyrus groaned and flopped back.

“I just don’t know what to do”, Cyrus groaned. “I can’t share a room with the guy I’m pining for! It just...it’ll hurt too much.”

Cyrus’s anger had long drained out of him. Now he was just a mess. Cyrus was pretty sure TJ already knew Cyrus liked him but living with a guy he knows he could never have. It shouldn’t feel as bad as his crush on Jonah was, but it was, and that’s how Cyrus knew he was in some deep trouble. Way too attached, Cyrus thought as he just stared at the ceiling. It seemed like he had only been lying there for a few minutes, but when he finally sat up, he found himself alone, and hours have passed. It wasn’t unusual for Cyrus to lose time thinking about stuff but it had been a while since it last happened.

Cyrus staggered up and slowly walked out the door. Laying on the hard floor had not done good things to his back, neck, and shoulders. Cyrus tried to massage his muscles as he made his way through the hallways. He was about to turn a corner when he heard soft notes coming from a room down the other hall. Cyrus cautiously approached the room. It had been dark for a while and the only light in the room was coming from the iPad on the piano that showed the sheet music. The notes coming from the instrument were soft and sad. Cyrus made out light green eyes and wavy hair leaning over the piano. TJ.

Cyrus tiredly made his way across the room, careful not to scare his friend. There was a couch in the corner, so Cyrus slinked onto that. He sat for a while just listening to the song. He could tell that TJ was aware of his presence. Cyrus closed his eyes, letting the song wash over him. He started to drift off to the sound of TJ’s heartbreak.

————

TJ had walked out of the dorm confident. Well, as confident as you can be when you’re going on a date with a boyfriend that you didn’t love anymore. He knew the very-not-subtle flirting he had done while he was getting dressed wasn’t fair, not to Cyrus nor to him. But he had needed to know if Cyrus felt the same if he was going to finally do this. Alex was his safety net. The only way he could cut himself free from the boy was if he knew that someone was there to make sure he didn’t break. Of course, he won’t know he can catch you if you never tell him how you feel, TJ’s mind shot back. It was too smart.

TJ sighed as he walked out of the dorm building. He was just about to check his messages when he feels a hand touch his elbow. He looked up to see Alex looking up at him.

“Hey”, he said. “Ready to go?”

TJ nodded and they started walking. They fell into silence, not awkward, but not comfortable either. More routine. TJ could feel it, the thing they had become. They weren’t a couple, TJ had realized when Alex had shown up. They hadn’t been for a long time. Now, they were just each other’s safety nets. Alex was following TJ through the town, but TJ wasn’t going to a restaurant. He might’ve been dressed up for a date, but it felt more like business, so he made his way to a small all-hour cafe TJ and his friends had found. Alex was confused, but he followed TJ in. They sat at a table and silently waited to be served. The waitress came and went but neither of them talked until their drinks were cold.

TJ sighed. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”, Alex asked, playing dumb.

“This, us. Neither of us are happy. You’ve been so distracted lately and I’ve”, TJ paused. “And I don’t love you anymore.”

“You love someone else”, Alex completed the sentence TJ wasn’t strong enough to. TJ nodded feeling guilty. Alex had been looking down at his drink the entire time. He finally lifted his eyes to TJ’s.

“You’re right”, Alex complied. “I haven’t been a boyfriend to you. I got so used to the idea that’d you’d just be there, that I started taking you for granted. That’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

TJ nodded and they stared at each other before Alex started to get up. He was about to leave when he called over his shoulder, “For the record, I did love you, Kippen. I hope this guy of yours knows how lucky he is.” And with that, he was gone.

TJ has wandered around for a bit, trying to think of a way to explain all of this to Cyrus. He finally decided to go to the training rooms to clear his head. He played a few songs varying between sad and freeing. The song he was playing was particularly sad when Cyrus wandered in, looking exhausted. He stumbled to the couch as TJ continued to play. Even after Cyrus had drifted off to sleep, TJ played. Finally, TJ was too tired to play another note. He went over to the couch but Cyrus wouldn’t wake up. TJ groaned but picked up the smaller boy anyway.

TJ carried Cyrus through campus and into their form building. TJ glared at the stairs before he broached the challenge. Eventually, TJ made it up the stairs and down the hall. He carefully opened the door to their room and laid Cyrus on one of the beds. TJ tiredly wiped the makeup away from his face before collapsing into the other. Sleep quickly overtook him.

———— TWO MONTHS LATER

It had been two months since the breakup and Cyrus and TJ were still dancing around each other. Their friends constantly complained about it, not understanding, but the two boys knew they couldn’t jump into a relationship immediately. So here they were, two months later and stuck between friends and the need to be closer than that. Cyrus found that it was significantly easier to live with the guy he was pining after when he was pining after him too. But the most infuriating part was that neither of them knew when to say enough was enough. How long were they just going to flirt and glance at each other across rooms and go on not dates before they turned it into a relationship?

Two months apparently.

Now, Cyrus was sure it would’ve gone on for longer, much, much longer, but luckily for them, one of them wasn’t very good at keeping things a secret. Well, at least that’s how Cyrus saw it anyway. TJ still thinks it wouldn’t have happened if Cyrus hadn’t been Spotify stalking him, but it doesn’t matter. The important thing was that it happened. And yes, it was because of music.

It was like any other day for Cyrus, TJ woke him up, he rolls out of bed and tried not to stare too much when TJ came back from the showers, showered, headed to breakfast with his friends, goes to class, has lunch, comes back to the dorm and plans on studying. Except Cyrus didn’t have any homework. And TJ had an extra class that day. So Cyrus was just sitting there, bored to death. Music usually helped, so he went to Spotify, but he couldn’t get interested in any of his playlists. So he goes over to TJ’s account and looks through his public ones. The most recently played one was titled ‘Play Me A Memory’. Despite the reference, not one Billy Joel song was in there. Instead, the first five songs were the set Cyrus played with his band. He got curious, so he listened to the playlist.

Oh, Cyrus thought as he listened to the songs. He played our memories. The second song was the one TJ auditioned with. The second and third were the ones they played in class. Then there was the song Cyrus had sung the night TJ and Alex broke up(how he knew about that, he only guessed one of his friends). Then there was the song that Cyrus had heard when he first walked into the room TJ was playing the piano in. After that, it changed. It went from songs that involved them, to songs that must have reminded TJ of him.

Cyrus day on his bed in shock. He knew that TJ liked him, maybe even loved him, but this is beyond what he thought TJ could feel for him. The more he listened, the stronger his emotions got, and the more he just wanted to run out of the room to find him. But Cyrus just continued to listen as his eyes filled moth tears. That’s how TJ found him, kneeling on the bed, crying to a playlist TJ had made about him. When TJ walked in the door, Cyrus marched up to him and kissed him, without any hesitation. No more dancing around. TJ was surprised, but he returned the kiss quickly. When they separated, Cyrus buried his face into TJ’s chest.

“I can’t believe you”, Cyrus said quietly. When TJ just gave him a confused look, Cyrus rolled his eyes and gave TJ one of his earbuds. TJ eyes widened when he heard the song. He tried quickly to explain, but Cyrus just held up a hand.

“You could’ve just asked me out, you know?”, he asked, a slight smirk on his face. TJ rolled his eyes, but then looked down at Cyrus rather seriously.

“Cyrus Goodman. Will you go out with me?” And oh, it was the sweetest song Cyrus had ever heard.

So now, here they were, two weeks after that and now on their third date, which Buffy and Andi insisted being a triple date with Reed and Jonah. They were hanging out around campus and just enjoying the company. Adding more memories to the playlist.

yeah, so that was fun. love posting at four in the morning. (anyone who liked the post was tagged unless problems occurred)

@judgemental-llama @thattyruslover @babytaters4life @paytonotinthemood @itslynxa @that-multi-fandom-boi @optimisticbailiffpurseempath @tyrusmuffins @forthemystery @dearrinsecurity @tyrusgavemerights @tyruswimgs @a-bittersweet-gal @meanie13 @aka-introvert @sadiesviolets @lolabug722 @godshrimpdick @lillianpage019 @spawnofthemarauders

#Andi Mack #tyrus #bandi #jonah x reed #marty by himself #Singer!Cyrus #Pianist!TJ #fanfic #tyrus fic #oo oo it's finally done #now i can go back to my other six things

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thirteen-beaxhes · 5 years ago

Text

Delayed - Chapter 4: Since We’ve Been Gone

Summary: “All felt like they knew the others were far away, living ideal lives. They kept to their windows and phones for the ride, thinking about the others. They reminisced separately but prayed for the night to go by fast, to get to the places they needed to go. But the night hadn’t even begun yet.” High school ended 6 years ago, and with it, so did the friendship between Andi, Buffy, Cyrus, Jonah, TJ and Amber. But now their flight is delayed and they are stuck in a hotel together for the night. Not much can change in one night, though. Can it?

ALL LINKS IN REBLOG

~~~~~~~~~

Three beers later, TJ had moved from the table where Cyrus had left him to the bar, balancing on the stool and he gulped down the drink. He had texted Amber, asking her where she was, and he had just gotten a waffly response about how she was going back to her room, one she was sharing with another passenger. Great. Even she had company. Super.

As he set down the now empty bottle, TJ called for another beer, not caring about how it would feel in the morning. He knew it would suck, and that his head would feel like utter shit. But he didn’t really care. The bartender flashed him a worried look, but slid another bottle his way. TJ looked around, spotting another person at the bar. A girl, with shoulder length hair and a leather jacket, a whiskey on the rocks in her hand. Picking up his drink, he turned to face her.

“You also drinking the night away? I get that,” he said, taking a swig. The girl turned to him, eyes narrowed, but she cracked a small smile.

“Well, nothing else to do, huh?” she said, and TJ couldn’t help but feel like that voice was familiar. He furrowed his eyebrows and lifted his head slightly.

“You sound familiar,” he said, moving to the bar stool closer to her. She inched away, but narrowed her eyes further.

“Yeah, you too,” she muttered, peering up at him. Suddenly, realisation flooded her face and shoved him in the shoulder.

“Fuck! TJ, is that you?” she exclaimed, smiling.

TJ took a minute to place her, the hair making it harder, but as soon as he did, he laughed in shock, pulling her in for a hug.

“Oh my god, Andi Mack in the flesh,” he said, pulling away, still laughing. “Shit, how are you?”

Andi shrugged. “As good as you’d expect from a person sat at the bar drinking after everyone has gone.”

TJ nodded, holding up his beer slightly. “I feel you. Take it the flight delay was not ideal?”

“Anything but. Not just that, I had some, interesting reunions with people,” she said, taking a long swig of her drink as she stared forward.

“Me too,” TJ said, nodding. “Who did you meet?”

“Buffy and Cyrus. Did not go well. Started good, ended bad. My fault mostly,” she said softly, looking own.

“Fuck, Buffy’s here too?” TJ asked, looking up in surprise as Andi nodded.

Andi narrowed her eyes at him. “Who did you meet? Cuz it seemed like you didn’t know Buffy was here, but you didn’t say anything about…” Andi trailed off, realisation hitting her as TJ looked away and took a big gulp of beer, wincing slightly.

“Cyrus?” TJ said quietly, and Andi sighed.

“Was it the first time since..?”

“Yup. This time though, I actually got a goodbye so, now we know its permanent.”

Silence fell between them as both continued to take sips of their drinks, unsure of what else to say. But, unlike with Buffy and Cyrus, Andi just didn’t care about having to find things to say with TJ. Something in her just told her that TJ too just wanted to be left alone in the silence.

Finally, after a couple minutes, Andi spoke up. “So, how’s Amber doing?”

TJ looked up. “She’s okay. She’s here too, you know?”

At that, Andi perked up, much to her own annoyance because she thought she was done with that. “Oh?” is all she managed, the word coming out high-pitched.

TJ laughed a bit, narrowing his eyes. “I’m surprised you didn’t see her. I thought you were her roommate.”

“She has a roommate?”

“Apparently they didn’t have any free rooms left for this one person, so Amber offered her room.”

“Well, that’s unusual for her,” Andi said, furrowing her eyebrows. “Especially if it’s some random person.”

“I know,” TJ said. “Which is why I assumed it was you when I saw you here. She’s always had a soft spot for you.”

For some reason, that comment made Andi’s cheeks grow warm, a fact she did not appreciate, and she kept her eyes focused on the table as she finished her whiskey. She was beginning to internally debate how to end the conversation because as much as she enjoyed it, she just really wanted to be alone. And reminders of high school were the last thing she needed. Given everything that made up her life. But thankfully, TJ finished his beer and placed his bottle on the table, taking his coat as he stood up.

“Well, I gotta go to my room now,” he said with a tired smile. “It was nice meeting you Andi. God, it’s like Shadyside reunion time, huh?”

Andi just smiled, tipping her glass at him as he walked away. She dropped her smile as soon as he left, gulping down the rest of her drink as she pushed herself away from the table, the room swaying slightly as she dragged herself away from the bar. To the room, and there she would stay.

“So, have you guys decided a date?” Amber said, as she flopped onto the bed. Buffy, who was just pulling her suitcase in, narrowed her eyes in amusement at Amber.

“Date for what?”

Amber groaned, pushing herself up. “For your wedding, you idiot!”

Buffy laughed, sitting on the foot of the extra bed, looking at Amber who was now lying on her stomach, resting her head on her hands as she looked at Buffy with a giddy smile. “Not really, but we’re aiming for late next year.”

“And theme?”

“Hmm, minimalistic.”

“Classic Muffy.”

“What did you say?” Buffy said, narrowing her eyebrows as Amber laughed at her expression.

“You know? Marty and Buffy, Muffy?” Amber said, but Buffy just continued to shake her head in confusion.

“I don’t even wanna know,” she said, laughing.

Amber laughed, feeling her phone buzz with a notification. She picked it up, and as soon as she saw the name, her smile dropped.

Emily.

She quickly put down the phone, and looked up at Buffy, nervously pushing her a strand of hair back. “So, what’s new with work?”

“Are you okay?” Buffy asked quietly, her eyes narrow in worry.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” Amber said, looking down, but Buffy grabbed her hand, making her look at her.

“You know that doesn’t work on me,” she said, and Amber gave her a small smile, letting out a long sigh.

“Why are you so good at reading people?”

Buffy shrugged, smiling. “I just am. You’re an open book when something’s bothering you.” She moved over to Amber’s bed, sitting down next to her. Amber kept her eyes trained to the ground, taking a deep breath in.

“A year ago, I met this girl who I worked with at a coffee shop during college. She was a Fine Arts major, and an aspiring painter. She would always turn up to work late because she would be working on something, her jeans and shoes always had huge paint stains. She was kind and smart and funny, and for some reason, she decided that I was someone worth spending time with. Her name’s Emily.” As she finished, Amber’s voice cracked, a fact she disguised by coughing. But Buffy didn’t buy it.

“I take it, all wasn’t perfect eventually?” Buffy asked softly, and Amber nodded quietly.

“I kept feeling like she wanted to be anywhere except with me when we went out. I just thought I was being paranoid. I was blind, and I thought everything would be okay, because I loved her,” Amber said, her voice breaking as she reached up to hastily wipe away her tears. Buffy came close to her side and hugged her, resting her head on Amber’s shoulder.

Amber looked up at the ceiling, releasing a shaky breath before continuing. “Then, a month ago, I get this text from her as I was going back from work.” She pulled her phone to her and opened it, scrolling up to the message and showing Buffy the phone. Buffy pulled it to her, her eyes running over the words, immediately looking up at Amber when she was done.

“Well, that’s lame,” Buffy said, thankfully eliciting a small laugh from Amber. “Over text too?”

Amber nodded sadly, scoffing. “It’s bullshit. Obviously it’s me, it’s always me. Every single relationship I’ve been in, I think it’ll last, but then it doesn’t. Maybe I just don’t deserve it.”

“That’s not true, Amber,” Buffy said, squeezing Amber’s hand, but she pulled away.

“Of course it is, think about it,” she said, her eyes desperate. “From back in high school to now, every single one has just been the same thing. I go too fast, or I get jealous, or I’m just not enough.”

“Okay you listen to me, Kippen,” Buffy said, lifting up Amber’s chin so that she was looking at her. “The Amber we met in high school took no shit from anyone. You were, and still are, an annoying and stubborn pain in the butt. But guess what? That’s you. You are confident in yourself, and you are a strong presence. And if people can’t handle it, it’s their problem!”

Amber looked up at Buffy nervously. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Buffy said softly, resting her head back on Amber’s shoulder.

Amber smiled and leaned her head on Buffy’s, sighing. But soon, she looked up again. “She did text me saying maybe we made a mistake.”

“No she did not!” Buffy yelled, and Amber laughed, nodding her head.

“See for yourself,” she said, handing Buffy the phone.

Buffy just shook her head with a laugh, looking at Amber. “Just block her, she’s not worth the trouble.”

Amber laughed, looking down at her phone. It took a while, but after some encouraging from Buffy, she ended up clicking ‘Block’ on Emily’s contact before tossing her phone onto the bed.

“That felt good,” she sighed, putting her arm around Buffy’s shoulder and leaning her head against hers.

“I know,” Buffy said softly, smiling at Amber.

And for that moment, Amber’s heart was just a tinier bit lighter.

Slumping onto the bed, Cyrus opened his phone to find texts from a guy he had gone out with a couple nights ago. He was nice enough, kind, sweet, charming. But, Cyrus couldn’t imagine having anything more serious that what they were, something the other was clearly not up for. Cyrus sighed, shutting off his phone, pinching the bridge of his nose. That encounter with TJ (because ‘encounter’ was the only word he could use to even try and describe it) had been unexpectedly emotionally tense. Although, why was he surprised? Given their story…

Cyrus rolled over to one side, playing over the conversation in his head. The surprise and shock, the brief hit of nostalgia, the bitter annoyance on TJ’s face as he first began to walk away, and finally, the tired defeat. After everything, after 6 years of silence, there it was.

Goodbye.

And now here he was, in his hotel room, alone, running away from people who wanted to get closer to him because the ghost of his first real relationship still haunted him, even though he refused to admit it. He had to face it now. He probably never really got over TJ Kippen.

And that terrified him.

Cyrus smiled wistfully to himself, remembering high school. Dates at the Spoon, holding hands under the lunch table, stealing hidden moments in empty hallways, short handwritten notes pressed into palms while running down the hall to class. He had been in love, there was no doubt about it. That was the first time, but not the last time. But it had been the last time he had acted on his feelings.

Funny, he thought to himself. All the time in school, when Cyrus saw Jonah have issues with commitment to relationships, he never imagined himself ever having that problem. But there he was, desperately starting the getaway car every time someone wanted more.

Cyrus lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He had to let go of the past, of TJ. That was the only way he would ever truly move on. But he shook his head, pulling the cover over himself as he rested his head on the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut.

He didn’t need to think about it just then. He just needed to sleep, and then get on the flight, and never see him again.

~~~~~~~~~

Sorry this chapter is so short, I was out last week so I didn’t have time to work on it. Hope you like it!

@pixieangelprincess @luzawithoutu @terri-does-gods-work @sxshx-sxshx @tozbier @alittletooliteralleah

HMU if you wanna be tagged in future updates!

#andi mack #my fic #delayed fic #tyrus #muffy #ambi #jandi #cyrus goodman #tj kippen #buffy driscoll #marty from the party #andi #jonah beck #amber brown #amber (andi mack)#fanfiction #fanfic

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