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kiruuuuu · 2 years ago

Note

I really hope you make more Recruitverse fics one day, because it's honestly a CRIME to leave it on "and that 'we', once again, doesn't Include Jojo." like KIRU PLEASE HOW COULD YOU DO THIS

WELL, @noivoom, you are absolutely correct that I cannot leave my five idiots there! Your ask(s) were actually a large reason why I wrote some more recruitverse a while ago and now I'm finally getting around to posting it 😊 I hope you enjoy it 💝

It's from Shay's POV and also part of my ongoing advent calendar - this is day 5 ❄ (Rating T, chaos as usual with some emotional hurt, ~7.3k words)

The message comes out of absolutely nowhere.

Well, kind of. They have been exchanging texts all day, so receiving another one is hardly out of the ordinary, but it’s the content that catches Shay unaware: btw my flatmates are both gone tonite wanna come over?

And oh boy, does he ever. There’s no need for a saucy wink or an aubergine emoji, the intention is a flashing neon sign Shay plans to heed. Admittedly, Jojo’s coaching sensitised him to the topic and the simple rhyme of ‘home alone, she wants to bone’ stuck in his head so well he found himself scribbling it down in his notes absent-mindedly, earning him a stern talking-to by Thatcher of all people (and that’s a conversation he never wants to have again, ta very much), but all this doesn’t matter because it’s finally going to happen. They’re gonna do it. He’s going to get with a girl he really likes.

“I can’t believe it”, Valenti speaks up from the other corner of the locker room. Shay’s mind is so filled with everything Brittany-related that he instantly assumes everyone must be sharing his excitement and blurts out a thrilled: “I know, isn’t it amazing?!”

Three aghast faces turn in his direction, while Gian’s eyes are glued to the floor. They don’t look like they’re talking about Brit at all, oddly enough.

“Shay, shut up”, hisses Jojo – which, fine, he’s been holding a grudge over something Shay must’ve done a while ago as he genuinely can’t remember what it is, so his dismissive attitude comes as no surprise, but Ivan merely shaking his head in disapproval clues him in. Something bad has happened.

Hopefully not so bad that it cockblocks him. He quickly taps an enthusiastic reply before joining the others with an appropriately grim expression. “Can we do anything about it?”, he wants to know, because he’s first and foremost interested in a solution. A solution means he can leave early, and leaving early means he’ll get to see Brit sooner, and seeing her sooner means -

“You don’t know what is problem”, Ivan states, and of course he’s right.

The only one who takes pity on him is Gian, even paler than usual: “Through a series of unfortunate events, Jagriwo came into possession of my notebook.”

“Who?”

“You’ve really lived under a fucking rock this past month, haven’t you”, Jojo snipes at him again with more vitriol than Shay is used to, “I’ve been barred from saying ‘Jacob Griffin-Worthington’ all the time, so we’re calling him Jagriwo now. A name just as unintelligible as the asshole himself.”

“Ah, alright”, Shay nods, since it makes perfect sense, and only then does it hit him with the full force of a lorry: their self-declared nemesis somehow stole the very book holding all of Gian’s most intimate thoughts – or so Shay assumes. He’s never actually read a single line from it as he supposes it’s like a diary, personal and private. Valenti once reported accidentally skimming over a page and not understanding a thing, so it might be written in code, who knows. In any case, this is bad news. “This is bad news”, he states for everyone else’s benefit.

“We’re past the stage of shock and impotent rage already”, Valenti waves him aside, “it’s time for a plan. How do we get it back? Ideally before the prick reads it?”

“It is possible he remains unaware of the confused bags”, Gian replies with vague hope, “he and I carry the same make. Has he not yet unpacked his, we might -”

Just then, an eerie sing-song reaches their ears in the distance, uttered by an uncomfortably familiar voice: “Hey mo-rons! Come look what I ha-ave!”

They grimace in unison. There’s little better at uniting them than a common enemy, and the annoying wanker facilitates it immensely. “Guess that answers the question”, Valenti speaks what they all think. “Let’s go see what he wants.”

“Aren’t you guys a sight for sore eyes, thank you for turning up so obediently”, Jacob Griffin-Worthington drawls in an overdone posh accent, probably thinking it makes him sound cool. Their two groups are opposite each other in the already cramped changing room now, Jacob’s posse having joined them after Jojo willingly communicated their location – there’s four other henchpeople flanking Jacob left and right, two of which Shay knows a little. He wonders whether Jacob chose to make four friends in total to match them, just in case they’d ever have a dramatic one-on-one fight involving personal vendettas and experts in the same field clashing against each other.

“As I understand, I have a little something you would like back”, their fellow recruit continues and waves the familiar object in front of him, the small leather-bound book they’ve all seen a million times whenever Gian jotted down random thoughts or the events of the day or possibly tomorrow’s weather. It remains a mystery to Shay. “And I’m very interested in hearing what you’re willing to offer me in return.”

“So you’re blackmailing us”, Valenti summarises succinctly.

“Let’s not put it in those terms, this is merely a friendly … exchange, I would say, after all -”

“Are you doing this because you’re jealous that we’re actual friends?”, Shay blurts out and experiences a satisfying touch of vindication when their collective nemesis falters.

“Uh, no, I’m just -” And before he can regain his composure, Ivan Ivanovic has stepped forward and snatched the notebook out of his hand.

The ten of them stare at each other for a long moment. Ivan hands the book to Gian, who immediately shoves it into his pocket. Jojo performs a very rude gesture with both hands, reciprocating Shay’s grin once he notices it.

“Don’t think I didn’t take any photos!”, Jacob threatens with the pathos of a small child.

“Break his phone, too, Ivanko.”

“I do not like to destroy private property.”

“Oh, since when do you Reds care about that?”

Jagriwo’s comment earns him a dark look. “I do not extend same courtesy to noses.”

“What do you even want?”, Gian tries to move the conversation along. “What do we possess that you desire?”

This time, the others shift and exchange quick glances, the lone girl speaking up in Jacob’s stead: “You got into South Carolina. We want it.”

Oh.

Yeah, fair enough, Shay gets it – there’s a limited amount of spaces for the special training course in SC and Thatcher asked them to apply for it in groups, which explains why Jacob suddenly surrounded himself with these cronies to form a team of five. Until just now, they didn’t even know their nemesis wasn’t selected. No wonder his mood is this rotten. “You can have it, honestly”, Shay replies easily, shrugging; he’s not keen on the camp anyway, it sounds like way too much work.

Instantly, Valenti fixes him with a disbelieving stare. “No he can’t!”

“Didn’t you say it was a kindergarten trip for dummies who haven’t passed Rainbow boot camp yet?”

“But that was before I knew they didn’t get in!”

“I’ll gladly give up our spot”, Jojo agrees. “If they wanna crawl around in the mud for three weeks, let them.”

“They don’t even deserve it. If they weren’t chosen, they shouldn’t go.”

“Excuse me?!”, Jagriwo interjects, incensed, “You guys have been licking Thatcher’s and Sledge’s boots, which is the only reason you got accepted and we didn’t!”

“Allow me to correct”, Gian joins in as well now, “we lost a wager and involuntarily tended to their every need as a result. It was far from an attempt to ingratiate ourselves.”

“We betted that Valenti could go week without arguing during training”, Ivan adds with a side glance towards the very same.

“Hey, I tried to let it go, but that simply wasn’t how boules is played, you don’t try to hit your opponent in the head with -”

“This is why we lost bet”, Ivan interrupts the angry Frenchman, indicating him in his entirety. Which only fuels his anger.

“You know, this isn’t the time, but let me educate you on the sports of my people. It’s a long-standing tradition and I’ve played it with my sisters on every single one of our -”

“Just take our spot and we’re even”, Jojo addresses the slightly lost-looking recruits opposite them and Shay is all for it – the faster they get this resolved, the earlier he can ditch everyone.

“They don’t deserve it!”

“Do we not?” Jacob is genuinely miffed now. “How about a competition, huh? We’ll figure out which group is better at their jobs, and the winner gets to go to SC. If you win, I’ll delete the photos. If we win, we’ll get to do what we want with Giovanni’s notebook. And trust me, I’ve found things in there some of you would prefer to remain secret.”

Oh no. He hit Valenti right in the competitiveness, there’s no way he’ll let this go. They exchange a few glances, the upset Frenchman predictably determined, Ivan curious and Gian fatalistic. That’s two in favour already, and Jojo suddenly seems to have changed his mind and doesn’t look willing to concede anything anymore either. Odd. Normally, Shay would be on his side and ready to fight these tossers in a heartbeat, but today…

“I’m kinda busy”, he mutters apologetically, sparking an outraged expression on at least two of his friends’ faces.

“This is our chance to outdo these self-important wankers!”, Valenti hisses.

“You know we can still hear you, right?”

“Fine. Let’s do competition”, Ivan agrees on their behalf and with that, their fate is sealed.

“This is all my fault”, Gian sighs into their midst as they’re huddled together for warmth next to the running track. Winter is in full swing and while they’re not blessed with any more snow, the icy temperatures make for a poor substitute.

“Doesn’t matter, we need to talk strategy now”, Valenti shoots back. “What do we know about them?”

They’ve decided on five disciplines embodying skills all operators are expected to excel in, though Jacob invented a few extra rules: the teams can choose each other’s champion and nobody can be picked twice. Shay very much suspects that each team is secretly relieved about that last rule as they both have a weakest link.

… though he’s not entirely sure which one is theirs. Ivan Ivanovic surpasses them in nearly everything, Valenti comes very very close, Jojo is a skilled shooter, fighter and amazing with electronics, and Gian is just a jack of all trades, really. So Shay can’t really pick who’s worst.

“I don’t even know who the fuck they are.” Jojo is eyeing their opponents critically. “I know Jagriwo, but the rest?”

“The thin bloke with the full beard is Whip”, Shay offers his limited knowledge. “We got accepted at the same time and he’s alright unless you’re up against him, then he’s scary. I wouldn’t go with him for this.”

“How about the Asian? She is tiny”, Ivan suggests to which Gian shakes his head emphatically.

“I have had the misfortune of sparring with her in the past and though her physique is not the most imposing, she makes up for it in ferocity. I would only wish her on my worst enemy.”

“Jagriwo is a beast and that one dude is way too tall”, Valenti decides, “so it’ll have to be the Spanish guy. What’s his name again?”

“Maradona.” Since Shay has loosely hung out with most of the other recruits, he remembers some names here and there. “He’s Spanish, called Diego and a football fanatic, they had to give him that nickname.”

“Maradona it is then.” They shrug, unsure of what to expect, and turn to their adversaries to announce their choice.

“Your funeral”, Jacob Griffin-Worthington grins. “We’ll nominate Rogers.”

“Looks like they haven’t seen me fight”, Shay comments as Gian sighs and prepares to actually throw hands for his diary – Shay fancies himself the worst hand-to-hand combatant in all of the SAS and wears that title with pride. It’s not easy to stand out in their organisation.

“Darling, everyone has seen you fight. Mostly because you make the weirdest noises when trying to punch someone, so you draw a lot of attention.”

Jojo and he exchange a quick smile that warms his heart despite the biting air invading their lungs. The whole situation has an absurd aura, he’s pretty sure Jagriwo cares about this way too much and will probably harp on about their defeat forever (in case they lose, which doesn’t seem that unlikely), but for the first time in months, if not years, Shay is too disconnected from their shenanigans to bring himself to get into it. His thoughts are with Brit as are his priorities, and so he hopes all this will be over soon.

That said, Gian and his opponent have only just entered the ring they drew in the half-frozen mud, getting into position. The first challenge is about strength as much as it is about technique: leave the ring or fall to the ground, you’re out. A clever grip could mean victory just like a hard shove would, and the champions are of similar build and height, granting no obvious advantage. Gian blocks the kick aimed at his thigh and is, in turn, hindered himself before the two circle each other, cheered on by their respective teams. When next they lock arms, Shay realises this could take a while.

“Did you forget to get rid of your venomous snake?”, Shay asks when he spots Dante’s head poking out of Gian’s sleeve, likely wondering what the fuss is about and being confronted with a close-up of Maradona’s face.

The Spaniard no doubt catches sight of the snake and lets out an unmanly shriek followed by a defensive jump backwards – right outside the assigned ring.

Total silence for a few seconds. Nobody seems sure how to react, Jagriwo’s expression is utterly dumbfounded and his team isn’t faring any better.

“Let’s get a move on then, lads.” And before anyone can even think about complaining, Shay turns and strides away. He’s got places to be.

“Alright. The second challenge is all about technology. We may use it every day, but do you actually understand the devices you’re using?” Jacob Griffin-Worthington is probably going for a tension-building game show host of some sort though it’s obvious he’s shaken up by Gian’s near-instant victory half an hour ago. His group is falling apart, the only woman not even listening to him anymore and instead texting incessantly, Maradona and Whip still arguing quietly in the background – only the Swiss recruit whose name still eludes Shay is reticent as always, staring them down with a scowl surpassing even Valenti’s on a bad day.

“Just tell us what to do”, sighs the very same, visibly done with Jagriwo’s theatrics.

“No time for a little pizazz, hm?”

“Not when you’re basically blackmailing us into this, no.”

“Whatever.” Like a professional bully, the Englishman ignores the accusations and sets a laptop onto the table between them. They’ve relocated to the canteen, accepting the risk of getting spotted – not that they’re doing anything illicit, but if they ran across Thatcher he’d surely find a way of making them do work regardless of what it is they’re currently up to. “This belongs to Blitz. Don’t ask how I got it, I have my ways.” He wiggles his eyebrows and absolutely nobody is impressed. Everyone knows Blitz forgets his stuff everywhere all the time. “Whoever is chosen as champion has to crack the password and access the laptop under Blitz’ own account.”

“Why would we need to know how to do that?”, Valenti complains, not noticing how Jagriwo’s brows rise at the indignation in his voice.

“Guess we’ve already found our champion.”

Shay is just happy he doesn’t have to do this or else he’d probably end up disappointing Jojo even more. There’s something going on with him, their interactions don’t come as natural as they used to and Shay is convinced it’s his own fault. Because he can’t imagine Jojo doing anything wrong.

“Who should we elect?”, Gian mutters after they’ve withdrawn into their private circle. He’s livelier now, owed most likely to the fact that he won his round. “Jagriwo himself seems too knowledgeable and besides, I presume his real weaknesses lie elsewhere. I can only assume Whip acquired his soubriquet from the idiom ‘sharp as a whip’, therefore I would rule him out also.”

“How about woman now? She might be physically gifted, but electronics?”

As if on cue, they all turn around to stare at the Asian-American who looks thoroughly done with the incessantly whining and gesticulating Maradona. She seemed to have made the mistake of advising him to drop the subject, which he took personally and is now chewing her ear off while she stares at her phone screen even more pointedly. When Whip nudges her, she glances up, realises her opponents are looking at her, and the slight panic in her expression gives her away.

“I’m in favour”, Jojo mutters. “If only to get her away from that annoying blabbermouth. Nobody deserves that.”

“We’re choosing her”, Valenti announces, to which the short woman grimaces. “Okay, so how do we do this?”

“You each get increments of half an hour during which you can do whatever you want with the laptop. If you don’t manage to get into it, it’ll be passed over to the other person. Only your time counts: whoever does it fastest by their own time wins.”

“Are we allowed to talk?”, Jojo wants to know innocently.

“Sure, whatever. You can go first if you want.”

Shay’s best friend nods at Valenti. “Go for it. I’ll talk you through it.” And before Jacob Griffin-Worthington can object, Jojo has already pulled up the instructions on his phone and started guiding Valenti on what to do.

Well. Looks like they have it covered. Gian and Ivanko seem intent on listening and learning, but Shay has no mental capacity for a proper lecture today, so he wanders a little until Whip joins him and the two of them catch up on what’s been happening in their lives recently. Idly, they watch as Maradona throws another tantrum about how what Jojo is doing is cheating while Jagriwo tries unsuccessfully to argue with Ivan Ivanovic that Maradona is right (and he might as well have started a discussion with a brick wall, there’s no reasoning with the Russian if he does not want to be reasoned with).

Eventually, the opposing champion takes a seat next to Shay and eyes him curiously. “What’s your name again?”

“I’m Shay, howya. What’s yours?”

“Anna.” She looks up briefly to frown in the direction of the very loud, very oblivious group of fellow recruits. “This whole thing is stupid, isn’t it.”

“Yep.” Shay catches a glimpse of the brightly-coloured screen in her hands and adds: “Oh, I have that game. Wanna play a round together?”

“Yeah, alright. Whip, wanna join?”

And so the three of them spend about twenty-six minutes peacefully murdering waves of zombies while Valenti nearly starts crying from the pressure. Shay would feel bad for him, but really, it’s his own fault. Ultimately.

“Think it’s my turn”, Anna sighs when her leader barks her name in disbelief, immediately berating her when she joins their bubble again about ‘consorting with the enemy’ and ‘failing to prepare’ as well as ‘sabotaging the only people who care about her’ or something similarly ludicrous, to which she simply replies: “Shut up. I got this.” And with that, she marches right out of the canteen. Leaving behind a dumbstruck Jagriwo, a still expressionless Swiss bloke and a furious Spaniard.

“She’s nice”, Shay comments, to which Whip nods.

“Yeah. No idea why she hangs around with us.”

Jojo and Valenti are still celebrating when Shay joins up with them again, both of them looking like they just ran a marathon. “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever done”, Valenti beams, “and I never wanna do it again. But Shay, did you see, I was like a hacker in the films, all focused and cool and -”

“Is she… coming back?”, Gian wonders quietly as Valenti continues bubbling over in excitement.

About five minutes later, Anna does indeed come back. She makes a beeline for the laptop, types something in, presses enter and presents a now unlocked laptop to everyone.

Suddenly, Valenti and Jojo look like they’re going to lose their minds.

“I asked Jäger”, she shrugs. “Told him Blitz forgot his password again and sent me to get it. No lie, the IT security in here stinks.”

For a moment, it seems like Jacob Griffin-Worthington is about to propose to her, until Ivanko decides to poke the bear again and asks: “Is that cheating?”

Maradona bitches the entire way to the shooting range and Shay admires him for his lung capacity.

The following challenge passes by quickly and rather uneventfully: sharpshooting is the required skill, so Shay advises them to pick Whip for this as he knows the Welshman is notoriously bad at it. Their adversaries choose Jojo, not that it matters much as the only one of their group who’s miles ahead would be Valenti while the rest is somewhere close in skill. And though Jojo wins, the two of them end up almost evenly matched, to Shay’s surprise. It might have something to do with the few sentences Jagriwo mutters at Jojo in a voice so low nobody else hears, but when Shay asks about it afterwards, his best friend assures him that it had nothing to do with his bad performance – he claims he was still exhausted from the mental exercise during the previous challenge.

Odd yet again, but Shay doesn’t pry. He does notice Jojo’s hands shaking, however, which happens when he’s under a lot of emotional stress. He wishes he knew what was going on so he could help in any way. The only thing he can do is compliment Jojo’s hair to which the German looks at him like he just sprouted an additional head.

Well. He tried.

As soon as it’s obvious where they’re headed, Valenti falls back and surrounds himself with his own group. “Obstacle course”, he speaks what they’re all thinking. “There’s no doubt they’ll pick you, Shay, they have no choice, Ivan holds the record among us recruits. That means if we win this next one, it’s three out of five for us – it’ll be over. Now, I happen to know that Jagriwo’s best time is worse than yours, Shay, so we have a real shot at ending it right here, right now.”

“Of course you would know everybody’s times”, Ivanko comments with a grin, letting out an uncharacteristic chuckle when Valenti jabs him in the side with an elbow. “Do not worry. Even if you do not win, Shay, I will.”

Despite his assurance, Valenti’s words resonate with Shay: he could actually put an end to this madness. That means visiting Brittany sooner, which means -

“Don’t listen to him, darling, you got this. Make me proud.” Jojo’s voice is strained and still he manages a slight smile which is even more motivation. Yeah, Shay will do his best. He’ll win this round and therefore the whole silly game, he’ll get to do the do with his girlfriend, and he’ll make his best friend proud. A win-win-win situation, his favourite.

It’s much too fast from there: as expected, Shay is chosen while they pick Jacob in turn, the two of them get changed and warm up and suddenly, they’re next to each other at the starting line, Shay’s heart pounding in his chest as he considers the consequences of failing. Despite not caring much about the overall contest, now it’s his own skills on the line which doesn’t leave him cold; he relishes competition, or else he never would’ve made it here. A healthy nervousness has taken hold of him, a heightened state of mind, he’s alert and keenly aware of his entire body the way he is when on a mission.

He’s ready.

“If you lose, I’ll tell you a secret”, Jacob Griffin-Worthington says out of the corner of his mouth, making Shay frown in confusion.

“I don’t wanna know any of your secrets”, he responds, and then someone yells GO and his body moves of its own accord, springing into action with practised ease. He can’t count the times he’s run this course, to various degrees of success: when he was brand new and still bouncing between groups in Rainbow, he remembers how daunting he found this exercise, shivering even at the mention of it. It’s brutal, a demanding mix of precision and pure speed, horizontal and vertical movement, arm- and legwork. Most of his muscles used to burn for days after an intensive training unit here, and now he could probably do it in his sleep.

He’s off to a head start, his long legs a big advantage on the early sprints as well as shorter jumps, but as soon as climbing starts being involved, Jagriwo makes up ground. Shay concentrates on his breathing, the placement of hands and feet, the icy air in his lungs. Vaguely, he can hear his teammates cheering him on, and though he pays next to no attention to it, he somehow notices Jojo’s voice missing in the chorus. Odd. But Shay doesn’t have the luxury of worrying about it.

By the half-point, he’s still ahead and plans to stay there, Jacob not too far behind but audibly struggling where Shay has good reserves to fall back on. The ground is an active obstacle, an unpredictable mixture of mud and frozen bits, making Shay regret a few times not cushioning a fall more. Regardless, he’s doing great and getting closer to the goal by the second, keeping his panting to a minimum, instead opting for a steady pace, and then he slips on an ice patch.

It’s a mean one, he can tell instantly, the moment his foot just whooshes out from under him instead of providing support he knows he’s well and truly fucked. He manages an undignified squawk somewhere on the way down and instinctively brings his arms up, but even they can’t stop his head from smacking right onto the frozen soil. The loss of balance feels like a drop out of a fourth floor window, only much faster, and so he’s much too disoriented to get up and try to keep running, instead opting to blearily stare at crystal-covered blades of grass right next to his nose and contemplate existence.

Looks like he won’t make Jojo proud after all. Especially not with this splitting headache.

There’s cheering going on somewhere, exacerbating the pounding in his temples, and he understands right away that Jagriwo made it, that he was beaten. Someone pats his back with more force than necessary.

“Can you get up?”

He blinks up at two Ivans and stretches out his hand, getting pulled up with next to no input from himself and swaying unsteadily while holding on to the Russian. “My head hurts”, he mumbles, trying to correct his blurry vision. “I’m sorry. I didn’t make it.”

“You were at record pace, too. You had chance to beat my time.” Ivan Ivanovic inspects him for a moment, eventually deciding that he’s fine, so Shay stops worrying. If he’d been bleeding badly or anything like it, Ivanko would tell him.

It’s only then that he realises Ivan is the only one who came to his aid: Jojo, Gian and Valenti seem to be talking insistently among each other, with Jojo looking pale and shaking his head a lot. This isn’t right. “Ivanko, what’s going on with Jojo?”

A small pause. The Russian pats his back again. “Better get changed. You will catch cold.”

Shay doesn’t think thicker clothes will help with the vague frost settling in his insides. He doesn’t know what’s wrong. He’s not sure he wants to.

Though it’s getting late, the sun nonetheless shines down on their stupid little contest. By now, most of them are grumpy for various reasons, several pairs have formed and emit unintelligible grumbling as they complain about this or that, and despite Jacob Griffin-Worthington’s steadfast refusal to admit this whole thing was pretty pointless, even he seems to be losing the spring in his step. Regardless, he trudges on, leading them to the canal for some reason.

“Last challenge”, he proclaims loudly, ignoring a few passers-by giving them odd looks. “This is the one who decides the winner! It’s as gruelling as it is straightforward: submerge yourself up to your neck in the icy water. The one who stays in there the longest wins.”

Suddenly, Shay is extremely glad he was chosen for the obstacle course, even if he doesn’t appreciate the pulsing headache. Below them, the river seems deceptively pleasant, the water calm and clear – but it couldn’t be any warmer than just above 0°C. This is a daunting task for pretty much everyone.

“We don’t really have a choice who to pick”, Valenti shrugs, equally eager to be done as most of them are. “Go for it, Swiss dude.”

“My name is Köbi”, comes a quiet reply from the taciturn recruit, prompting Jojo of all people to reply: “Yeah well nobody can pronounce that.”

“Wait, wait, what are you doing?!” Jagriwo has noticed Ivan Ivanovic unzipping his jacket in preparation of the challenge. “It’s not your turn, mate, you’ve already gone. We choose – wait, who do we choose?”

His group exchanges confused glances until Whip speaks up: “He’s the only one left.”

Their leader turns away from their adversaries to hiss a very audible: “But then we lose. Ivan can’t be allowed to do this.”

“Try and stop me.” Ivanko keeps piling clothes onto a helpless Valenti as if all of this was just another Tuesday, unlacing his boots with practised ease.

It is now that Jagriwo seems to realise what everyone else has understood before they walked all the way to the river: he’s lost. With Ivan left as their last champion, there’s nothing he could throw his way that would tip the scales in his favour. Valenti’s triumphant grin from behind Ivanko’s folded-up trousers conveys as much.

“I, uh, wasn’t finished explaining the rules of this challenge”, he tries to delay the inevitable, floundering, “you also have to, um -”

“Let us go in.” Ivanko, clad only in his underwear, nods in the direction of the ladder leading from the promenade right into the water. Köbi seems hesitant but probably assumes Jagriwo’s wrath would be immeasurable if he chickened out now, so he quickly undresses as well and immediately starts shivering. This doesn’t bode well for him. Ivan Ivanovic even goes in first, opting to quickly glide into the icy river instead of dipping his toes, followed by his Swiss opponent.

Who curses heartily in what Shay can only assume to be a thick accent as soon as he touches the surface, and the cursing quickly morphs into barely-suppressed wails and moans. He sounds like he’ll start crying every second now.

Jacob Griffin-Worthington is livid.

“You don’t deserve this win!”, he rages. “You’re just a bunch of arse-kissing wankers who scrape by doing the absolute minimum.”

“What does that make you then?”, Jojo responds, words dripping with vitriol. “You lost to us. You don’t even belong in Rainbow.”

“And you do? I don’t know about the others, but I know how you got in. Did some favours to get your résumé looked at, didn’t you?”

Fucking hell. Shay frowns, notices his expression mirrored on both Whip’s and Anna’s faces (though he takes note of their silence), and asks: “Why are you such a sore loser?”

Gian’s muttered ‘this is hardly productive’ gets lost in Jacob Griffin-Worthington’s following fury. “You arseholes are really pissing me off! The only reason you won this is because you have one, one semi-competent fucker among you who keeps you afloat, the rest of you are worthless. You wanna know what your so-called friend wrote in his diary? You wanna hear some excerpts? Because I’ve got a small collection of quotes here, just stumbled over these, they’re everywhere.”

“Not really”, Valenti objects. “If he’d wanted us to hear them, he would’ve told us.”

Undeterred, Jagriwo pulls out his phone and begins reading off the screen. “Valenti, he calls you petty, ‘hindered by delusions of grandeur’, ‘desperate to belong’ – mate, he thinks you’re insufferable, that’s what I’m getting out of this.”

The author of the quotes looks pained, uncomfortable, avoiding their gazes. Shay has never seen Gian this ashamed, their gentle, thoughtful, caring Gian this distressed. He opens his mouth, likely to address the accusation, possibly explain himself, but Valenti is faster: “Well he’d be correct, wouldn’t he?”

Their nemesis blanks for a second. “Pardon?”

“I mean, I am those things. He’s not wrong. But I’d bet my life that’s not all he said about me. Right? You’re just picking things out of context and trying to upset us, it’s not gonna work.”

But instead of being defeated yet again, Jagriwo’s eyes move to a new target. And Shay suddenly pieces it all together.

Everything falls into place: their weird reaction when he implied that Gian’s diary being stolen wasn’t that big of a deal – everyone else seemed to know something he didn’t yet nobody clued him in. He wasn’t supposed to know, he realises belatedly. They all knew something he didn’t, which also explains why Jojo has been so withdrawn lately, why he kept talking with the others instead of Shay, why he suddenly wanted to win this competition so badly.

Jojo has some sort of secret involving Shay and absolutely everybody knows except for Shay himself. He assumes this is what Jacob meant when he offered to let him in on a secret at the beginning of the obstacle course. Gian had written about this hidden fact in his little book and Jagriwo is about to reveal it.

But what could it be? The only explanation Shay can fathom is him doing something unspeakable to Jojo, something unforgivable, something that would taint their friendship forever if he were aware of it. If he’d done something like that to Jojo, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself, that much is true, he’d always feel like he’d owe him – and this, possibly, is the scenario they’ve worked to hard to avoid. Because it’d hang over the two of them like a sword of Damocles, no doubt.

And now that Shay knows this… is he ready to hear the truth?

“Don’t”, mutters Jojo, his voice a warning. His eyes are locked with Jagriwo’s.

“Or what?” He really savours the moment, ignoring all of Jojo’s body language (and he looks like a cornered animal, wild, hopeless) as he turns to Shay with a wide, shark-like smile. It feels like everyone’s holding their breath. Then he simply says: “Did you know your best friend wants to fuck you?”

The very first thought that enters Shay’s mind is one he remains convinced of for a solid second: that can’t be it. He believes it steadfastly until he turns his head and catches sight of the pure, unbridled horror on Jojo’s face, shame even more pronounced than on Gian’s a few moments earlier. No words are necessary, his expression shouts it louder than Jacob could – it’s true. It has to be, or else why would Jojo look like this, but… why is that such a big deal?

Jacob Griffin-Worthington is not satisfied yet. “He’s actually been in love with you for a while.”

Oh. Okay, well, that’s slightly different, yet Shay experiences nothing but all-encompassing relief: he didn’t do anything to Jojo. They’re still good. They can keep being friends, provided Jojo wants to, and, uh, well, this might be a problem, he realises much too late. Maybe Jojo doesn’t want to. Maybe he wants some space. And Shay has a girlfriend, he almost forgot about her, that’s complicating things even further, but -

All of a sudden, he notices everyone is staring at him. Everyone but the one who counts. “Right”, he says, still trying to process the consequences of this revelation, and then Jojo turns on his heel and walks away.

Gian is the one who stops him from following immediately, a steady hand on his arm and a slight shake of the head keeping him in place. “Allow him time to compose.”

Next to them, Valenti simply drops Ivanko’s clothes onto the promenade and tries to punch Jagriwo in the face, yet the lad saw it coming and blocked, and while a very one-sided fight breaks out (because of course, the others jump in to help Jacob) Shay only has eyes for the lone figure wandering by the canal, back turned and hands repeatedly coming up to probably wipe tears away, and all of this is wrong.

Being friends with Jojo has never been easy, he’d never call it an easy friendship like he would with someone like Whip maybe – it was never two mates hanging out, it was something more, and that something required effort. Shay had worked for Jojo’s friendship and still does his best to maintain it, he learnt how to apologise, how to compromise, how to listen. Jojo allowed him to grow by pointing out areas in which to improve, managed to do so without putting him on the spot and by taking him seriously. In return, he’d provided undying loyalty, an open ear with no judgement.

This isn’t something from which either of them can walk away. They need to work this out. And the longer his eyes are glued to the man he’s so incredibly lucky to know, the man walking much too close to the edge of the promenade, the one suddenly slipping on an icy patch and -

Shay’s fuck comes almost simultaneously to the large splash. He starts sprinting without wasting a single thought on it, clawing off his jacket mid-run, tossing his phone on it, dropping his shirt together with his wallet and keys, and next go the shoes (bloody hell the ground is frigid) – he doesn’t bother with the socks but the trousers need to go, and then he dives into what turns out to be much, much colder water than he’d anticipated.

He manages to keep his disbelieving gasp in until he’s breached the surface again, blinking against the cool air and trying to keep his body from locking up due to the shock. Next to him, Jojo lets out a litany of curses, half of which directed at him.

“- the fuck are you doing, you moron, there’s no fucking ladder, what did you think you’re gonna do?!”

Huh. The closest ladder is indeed a bit away and he’s already losing all feeling in his limbs. “I’m saving you”, he blurts out, stupidly, to which his best friend lets out an unamused-sounding laugh. Jesus fuck it’s cold, his feet are freezing and he’s having trouble staying above water.

“This”, Jojo pants, lips blue and eyes red, shivering just as violently as Shay is himself, “might be one of the dumbest things you’ve ever done, Shay, what did you think was going to happen? You give me a lift so I can climb the two metres back up?”

“We should probably move, we can’t get out here.”

“Oh really? I can’t swim, I can barely keep myself up, so what do you reckon -”

He’s interrupted by yet another splash next to them, icy water washing over them. The reproachful face appearing belongs to none other than Ivan Ivanovic, and Shay has never been gladder to see the Russian. “Hold on to me”, he tells them and they oblige without a single word of protest as he starts swimming to the nearest ladder, dragging two dead weights with him.

~*~

It’s only fitting that the day ends with them in front of Sledge’s office, as so many days prior. Shay, wrapped in a thick blanket and trying to will the frost out of his bones, listens to the muffled bollocking going on inside, and wonders whether they’ll get their share after the others are done. Köbi, Jojo and he were sent to Doc first while the rest of their groups had to explain to their superior what they’ve been up to all day, and now they don’t want to interrupt anything, so they’ve sat down on the bench outside. Except for Köbi, the winner of the last challenge, who was checked in with mild frostbite. There’s no doubt Ivanko would’ve won, but he came to Jojo’s and Shay’s rescue, opting to climb out and lose the challenge rather than wasting valuable seconds by swimming towards them instead of running.

So not only did Shay mess up his own contribution to the competition, he made them lose it all.

He barely dares to ask. “Jojo?”

“Hm?” His best friend has avoided any eye contact since their brief stint in the river, having chosen to treat Shay with nothing but silence. Now that they’re alone and perched next to each other, he seems more willing to exchange words though.

“I’m sorry we lost because of me. Did you actually want to win?”

This earns him an almost disgusted expression. “Of course not. Any minute I spend in Jagriwo’s presence is fucking wasted, he can fuck a cactus for all I care. His stupid little ego trip doesn’t matter.”

Oh. So he just really didn’t want Shay to find out. Find out… that he’s in love with him. The sentiment leaves him slightly giddy, as if someone Shay liked a lot told him that they like Shay back, only he can’t discern whether he feels flattered or confused or something else entirely. It’s a fluttery thing, similar to the beginning when he was flirting with Brittany (or trying to, at least) and couldn’t think about anything else.

Jojo fancies him. It’s… nice. It feels nice, knowing Jojo finds him attractive. That he likes him so much that he wants them to be more than friends.

And Shay -

He looks at Jojo who reminds him of a drowned rat, the usually styled hair wet and sticking to his skull, complexion blotchy, the corners of his mouth turned downwards. Their shoulders are touching. Shay just can’t imagine a life without him.

“I’ll break up with Brittany”, he hears himself speak before the words have fully formed in his mind – as so often he does.

Jojo’s brows draw together. “What?”

“I can break up with her. It’s okay. Then we can -”

“Shay, what in the world are you saying?”

“I like you too.” Instantly, he’s self-conscious, scratching the back of his head, trying his hardest not to backpedal. “That’s… what I’m saying. I like you, Jojo. I’d rather be together with you.”

His best friend is staring at him, mouth open, eyes wide. “You’d just – you’d drop her. Right away. Right now.”

“Yeah. If you want.” Shay nods. He’s already cancelled for the evening, it’d be simple to end their relationship as well.

For a few heartbeats, Jojo doesn’t seem to know how to react and what he eventually does isn’t something Shay would’ve expected. He gets up, blanket still wrapped around him, and tells Shay: “Just don’t talk to me. Don’t.”

And once again, he leaves. Leaves Shay behind on the bench outside of Sledge’s office, wondering whether he’s done something wrong this time.

It’s not even a relief when Sledge shoos him away later instead of admonishing him, because Valenti won’t look at him and Gian carries himself like a close relative just died. Even Ivan Ivanovic just motions for him to walk.

Of everyone filing out of Sledge’s office, it’s only Anna who throws him a sympathetic glance.

#rainbow six siege #fanfic #kac #recruitverse #valenti #jojo #shay #gian #ivan #some new 'friends' as well!#whip needs to stay around until I can finally reveal why he's called that #has anyone noticed a trend with names yet

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