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thespookyswan · 6 years ago

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Losing to You

A Gift for @penningmisnomer about our OC’s. Spy AU. I put a lot of effort into it! And this is only the first part! <3 Hope everyone who reads it enjoys it!

WC: 8,313

The crisp autumn air brought forth a chilling breeze that rustled his undone jacket back behind him. It was stronger where he stood, under the protection of the platform, the walls making the wind bounce and multiply. He kept attempting to light the cigarette that rested between his lips, but every match he lit was blown out before he could get it to the tip. He sometimes cursed his cheap nature, wondering why he only stole matches from unsuspecting golf courses and places that just left them around, instead of just buying a lighter like a normal person.

He gave up on the cigarette finally, spitting it out into the tracks before him. He glanced across the way, the large trees towering above the parallel platform bright fall colors, whistling in the breeze and falling off in masses, creating a flurry of color that he just couldn't find any joy in. One thought flooded his thoughts, bringing a sort of sadness that he couldn't shake off.

Conner would love this. Conner always loved the bright colors that the autumn brought with it. He was born in the same season and would always brag about the perfection of the weather that he shared a birthday with. Such a trivial thing to brag over, Trevor often thought, but that was just who Conner was, someone who could find the beauty and joy in everything.

He tore his eyes away from the trees and shook Conner out of his head, glancing around the platform afterwards to see who he was sharing the train with. It was oddly empty for a train platform, but he attributed that to the small town he was in. A woman stood alone in the back corner, her eyes focused on her phone before her. On a bench in the center there was a younger gentleman, his hat down over his eyes and a messy work bag at his side. There was a small family of four on a second bench, the parents trying to distract their very noisy children with toys and electronics. He hoped he didn't have a cabin near them, or even on the same cart. It was a long ride, four days total, and he couldn't imagine hearing the annoying brats that whole time.

It was almost as if they were all trying to avoid him, keeping back behind the columns that held the platform up. Occasionally the woman would glance up from her phone to look at Trevor, but when their eyes met she would return to the safety of the screen, her fingers flickering away, her eyes avoiding his at any cost. The parents too would glance at him, but they were much subtler about it, pretending to avert their gaze elsewhere when he would look in their direction. He didn’t think too hard on it, knowing is casual business attire was probably an oddity for where they were headed.

Finally, the blistering whistle of the train rung through the station, and he picked up his backpack and bag and threw them on his shoulders, beyond ready to get on the train and sit down. The train roared into the station, bringing a stronger wind that nearly knocked him off his feet. He watched as the passengers exited on the opposite side, talking loudly as they exited and made their way off. Significantly more people than were getting on, he thought, but attributed it to the early time of day. People going to work.

As the doors on their side opened, he stepped onto the train and flashed his ticket at the teenager at the entrance, who just nodded his head and pointed him in the direction of his cabin. He pushed his way through the small halls until he found it, cringing at the number on the door. 912, Conner's birthday. One he first saw it on his ticket, he found himself nearly throwing up at the eerie coincidence. It was as if God himself was spitting on him with every step he took, reminding him of what he did.

He pulled the door open quickly and stepped inside the small cabin, chucking his bags onto the tiny pull out bed as he slid the door closed behind him. He rubbed his eyes, trying to wipe the sick feeling out of his stomach with any sort of willpower.

"Pull yourself together, Trevor." He muttered, pulling his coat off and hanging it on the back of the door, blocking the hideous number from his vision. He rested his back to the door and dug his fingers into the skin of his hand, the irritation of everything around him growing worse as the loud family made their way down his hall. His breathing picked up as a ringing split his head in what felt like three, the blistering young voices, the number, and the tiredness he was experiencing all hitting him at the same time, driving him further and further into a deep hole-

A door shut, and the voices faded away as they made their way into another cart. He released his palm and slid down to the ground, opening his eyes and staring out the window at the top of the empty platform, banners for long passed events hanging proudly as if they still had something to say. The silence was so welcoming to him that he was nearly falling asleep where he sat, and finally he yanked himself up. He grabbed his bags and promptly dropped them on the floor, taking their place on the bed and drifting into sleep fast.

His vision was blurry, the steady stream of thick blood dripping down over his left eye making it incredibly hard to see. He tried to keep his head up and ignore the pain, process the situation, but the force of the hit was making him dizzy. From where he sat on his knees, he could see the figures before him struggling in a clear battle to secure a gun, but who was who was impossible for him to pick out, the darkness of the night only making things worse.

"Trevor!" Conner yelled, his voice strained and scared, "Do something!"

Trevor shook his head, trying to pull himself back into reality, but only making the feeling of uncertainty worse. He crawled forward, the gun that rested before him split in two, wavering and seemingly moving. He tried to wipe the blood from his eye, but it only smudged and blended across his right eye. He was better than this, he knew he was, and Conner needed him. His own incompetence made the situation only heavier on him.

Conner let out a cry of pain and Trevor saw him stumble back and away from his attacker, but not for long, as the other man stepped quickly after him, trying to grab the gun Conner was still held onto out of his hand yet again.

Trevor finally managed to get his hands on the second gun, and with much difficulty he switched the safety off and raised it forward, towards the ongoing struggle between Conner and the other spy. Everything was still spinning, and there was no way to determine who he was shooting at, but for some reason, some ungodly reason, he still just fired.

A still silence split through the area as Trevor's vision slowly cleared. There was only one person before him, Conner, his lovely Conner, pale in the face. Trevor tried to process what was happening, when suddenly, streams of blood started to leak out of Conner's face, out of his eyes and his ears, his mouth and his nose, just thick, red streams. He collapsed to his knees as a red blossom started to spread across his chest as well, down his sides, pooling around him in massive amounts.

"Trevor... What did you do?" Conner whispered, lifting his hand forward to reach for Trevor. The crimson dribbled from his fingertips to the ground below, and the thick liquid started to move towards where Trevor was sat, unable to move an inch.

"Conner, Conner- I didn't mean- I never thought this would happen! I didn't think at all!" Trevor cried out, trying so hard to move, to get away from the blood, but his body wouldn't listen. He screamed as it began to work up his legs, covering him in the warm, heavy fluid, crushing everything as it made its way up his body.

Conner simply watched as he was engulfed, his blue eyes burning in the moonlight. Trevor attempted to speak again, but only invited the blood into his mouth, and it flowed down his throat, choking him. Conner's head fell to the side, and the last thing Trevor heard before he was swallowed whole was a loud, splintering crash.

It had happened again.

He sat in the uncomfortable chair across from the bed, staring at the wet stain on the mattress before him. His pants were hung in the small bathroom his room daunted, and the sheets soaking in the tub. At this point, it was so common, he was no longer ashamed. The nightmares he experienced were worthy of the reaction his body had to them. It was more so embarrassing that it happened here, not even on his first night, and there was no way in hell he was telling anyone about it. He'd rather sleep in the mess than have to admit to some poor worker on the train that he, a full-grown man, had wet himself.

He needed a drink.

He stood up and dug through his bag, yanking out a pair of jeans and slipping them on. He ripped the tag off and tossed it in the trash bin, rubbing his legs at the feeling of denim. He couldn't remember the last time he wore something so casual just because he wanted to. His job was one that called for a much more professional attire, and even when he did do a job where he acted as a civilian, it wasn't like he picked out his outfit. They'd called to him from the window of a small store he'd passed in the last town he hid in, and he decided to buy a few just because he finally could.

He pulled off the button down he was wearing and after a moment of deliberation, tossed it in the bin as well. Something about him was still holding on to the past, to the job, to what he was by keeping his old clothes. He decided now to give it up, and pulled on the loose-fitting tee shirt, surprised by the comfort it provided.

He ran his hands through his hair but knew it was no luck, the curly mess never listened, and he had no desire to look at himself in a mirror and mess with hair gel for a bartender he'd speak to maybe twice.

Finally, he exited his room, stepping out into the shaky train car and glancing around to see any sort of signage that would point him to the dinner car. An old, rickety sign hung above the door that split the cars, pointing him in the direction he needed to go. He closed his door behind him and made his way across, happy to find the next car was his destination. Quite the easy trip to and fro.

Much to his delight, the dinner car was totally empty, minus the bartender, who was tucked in the far corner, cleaning a glass with an old rag. It was all very movie-esc, and Trevor made his way to the tiny bar, taking a seat and waiting for the man to turn his attention away from cleaning.

"Must be an easy trip for you, huh?" Trevor asked, unable to help it. He was an extrovert, and the lack of human contact he'd had the past few months was eating him alive. Many bartenders were subjected to his desperate attempt at connection and conversation.

"Most are easy trips. Not everyone is an alcoholic." The bartender replied, glancing over at Trevor finally. He was younger, and Trevor imagined they couldn't have much of a difference in age. His skin was dark and smooth, as if he'd never had a speck of acne in his life, and light hazel eyes complimented his skin tone beautifully. His hair was styled neatly, shaved at the sides with the thick strands all at the top, and very clearly bleached blond. He had a smug look on his face, like his comment had been a hit at Trevor.

"You don't have to be an alcoholic to enjoy a good drink." Trevor gave in return, not trying to fight with the snarky young man, but not taking kindly to his comment.

The bartender rolled his eyes and just grunted in return, grabbing a clean glass and waiting for Trevor to pick his poison.

"Diet Rum and Coke." He said right away, and the other man scoffed and muttered something about 'diet,' but did as requested and filled the glass up with the soda before dumping a heavy shot of rum into the glass, sliding it across to Trevor.

"Thank you." Trevor sighed, grabbing the glass and taking his first sip, letting out a small sigh of relief as the alcohol flooded into his system.

"That'll be 3.23." The bartender slid a small piece of paper towards Trevor, who had totally locked up at the sentence. He stared at the bill with quivering eyes, the numbers burning against the page. Three twenty-three. March twenty third, that was the day Conner was taken from him. No- that was the day that he lost Conner. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself for what had gone down.

In some desperate attempt to wash away the dark feeling that was creeping through him, he slugged down the rest of his drink in one swift motion, letting the glass hit the counter afterwards as he coughed just a bit. The bartender watched him with a raised brow, his hands rested on his hips.

“The man that preaches about enjoying a good drink decimates a well made Rum and Coke. What, did the idea of paying for your bitchy drink get to you-“ but before he could finish, Trevor slammed a five dollar bill on the counter and quickly turned away, rushing back to his room.

As he made his way through the dinner car he caught a glimpse at his own reflection; the walls along the sides of the car furnished a mirror that showed nearly his whole frame. He stopped dead, realizing this was the first time he’d seen himself in weeks, probably. He avoided mirrors like they were some sort of plague, the idea of looking at himself almost sickening.

He truly wondered who the person staring back at him was. It was clear to him now why the other people on the platform were avoiding and stealing glances at him, or even why the bartender made the alcoholic comment.

He truly looked like he was sickly, his once tan face a greyish color, pale beyond comparison to anything he’d seen. His eyes, once a bright, vibrant green, were red around the edges, making him look truly like a drug addict; the accompanying bags that rested under his eyes and the long, healing scar above did not help. He hadn’t realized how out of control his hair at gotten- the brown, curly mop that he normally kept well cut and styled was a shaggy mess, spraying in a thousand different directions. To top it all off, he was thin, skin and bones, almost nothing to him. The new tee-shirt he had hung from him, and the jeans barely sat on his hips. The strong, well maintained person he used to be was gone. He had died along with Conner.

He took a shuddering breath in and ripped his eyes away from himself, finally making his way back to his room. Outside, the countryside roared by, endless amounts of foliage and farmland, covered beautifully by the pale orange of the setting sun. He took a seat in the lumpy chair, one hand on his head as he watched the outside fade past and listened to the mechanical rattling of the rails below. He’d ridden a train so many times at this point in his life that the sway of it all meant nothing to him- it was almost all peaceful, and he found himself falling away into another deep sleep.

Before him was a mirror, clear as day, probably the cleanest mirror he’d ever looked into in all of his life. It was almost sickening that staring back at him was the mess that he’d become, some sort of creature that he couldn’t even recognize if he tried. He knew that it was him staring back, but at the same time, wished it was somebody else. He looked away, trying to figure out where he was, his brain not connecting the dots.

A thud brought his attention back to the mirror, and his blood instantly ran cold. In the mirror was not only his own reflection, but the haunting reflection of Conner, dried blood splattered across his face, his pale arms wrapped around Trevor in a bear hug, holding him in place. Some part of Trevor knew this wasn’t reality; Conner wasn’t tall enough to lean over his shoulder the way this thing was, but something else told him that being dead, Conner could do whatever the hell he wanted.

“Look at you, finally getting what you deserve.” Conner whispered, pressing his cold, blue lips against Trevor’s ear, sending the worst of chills through his body.

“Conner, please…” Trevor whispered, slowly bringing his hand up to rest it on Conner’s own, the sick feeling in his stomach growing worse as his hand touched the chapped, freezing skin of Conner’s hand.

“Don’t touch me. You don’t get to touch me. You killed me.” Conner hissed, moving his hand away, scrapping sharp fingernails up Trevor’s chest, cutting him deeply. He let out a pained noise and watched as the blood dripped from the cuts in his shirt before looking back at Conner with desperation.

“You know that I would do anything, Conner, anything to get you back!” He tried, his voice pathetic and small. Conner’s lips turned into a scowl and he let out a deep, angry chortle.

“Then why are you running away, Trevor? All you do is run away, when things get tough. You were going to leave me, I know you were. Things were getting too hard for you, with our job, and you couldn’t take it, and you were going to run, just like you’re doing now, because you’re a coward!” Conner screamed right in his ear, and he shook his head around, trying hard not to cry.

“Conner that’s not true, that’s not true, I loved you, I love you-“

“You can run forever, Trevor, they’ll catch you now or never.” Conner whispered then, and the mirror shattered, the broken pieces flying back and imbedding themselves into his body, cutting him deeply, causing pain worse than he’d ever felt to go rushing, flooding through him.

The remains of the mirror fell back with a sickening crunch.

“I think you look worse than yesterday.”

The dinner car was empty, breakfast over and lunch still hours away. Trevor sat alone in a booth, nursing a coffee and a plate that he hadn’t bothered to touch. Much to his dismay, the bartender doubled as a waiter, the small trip not calling for two people to work the small car.

“I don’t recall asking your opinion.” Trevor muttered, glancing over at the other man with half a glare. He was resting against a booth opposite to his own, having just finished cleaning up what Trevor could only assume was the remains of the breakfast the loud family had eaten.

“Wow. Yesterday you were fishing for conversation, and today you’re all rude about it? Excuse me.” The bartender scoffed and wheeled away the cart with the dirty dishes, leaving Trevor alone in the cart. He sort of regretted his harsh response and dug his fingers into his eyes before glancing back to make sure the man was gone.

He dug in his pockets and pulled out his cigarettes, quickly pulling one up to his lips and flicking a match ablaze before finally lighting the stick and taking a much-needed long drag. He let his head fall back against the seat behind him, his eyes closed as he let the puff of smoke out slowly.

“Those things will kill you.” Conner said, sitting across the booth from him. The sunlight flowed in through the window, making his long, black hair shine. He always kept it up in a very neat bun, protocol for their line of work, but today it was all out of place, nobody watching them. The normally well-kept strands were in complete disorder, and Trevor found it enduring and quite frankly, adorable.

“They’ll kill me no sooner than you’ll die, I bet.” Trevor gave Conner a bit of a cocky grin, and Conner rolled his eyes in return, but his own lips split into a small smile. Trevor’s eyes focused on the very noticeable, yet, very cute gap that Conner sported between his teeth. If they weren’t in a public place he’d lean right across the table and kiss Conner, kiss those plump lips and the cute gap and let Conner know how much he loved him.

“Why didn’t I kiss him?” Trevor muttered, sliding his hand down his face in a dramatic fashion as he relived that moment- that comment, that god awful comment that he just had to say to Conner over in his head.

“Because that would be sexual assault.” The snarky bartender had returned, and he reached across the table to snatch the cigarette right out of Trevor’s mouth, flicking it into his coffee to put it out. Trevor let out an aghast noise, frustrated at the rudeness of the other man.

“I was smoking that! And I was drinking that!” Trevor gestured at the coffee cup with both hands, staring at the bartender, who, in return, gestured at a ‘NO SMOKING’ sign on the wall not far from Trevor.

“This is a public place. Kill yourself in the privacy of our cabins, please, leave the lungs of people who don’t inhale toxic chemicals alone.” The bartender took his coffee from the table and went to walk away. Trevor spun in his seat to look after him, his face heated with embarrassment and anger.

“What is your name! I’m going to tell someone about this-“

“Kirk. Tell whoever you want.” The bartender exited through the back door, and Trevor left out a long huff before grabbing a piece of toast off of the plate and leaving, unable to even think about listening to another second of ‘Kirk.’ If Kirk was even his real name.

“Star Trek bastard. Who does he think he is?” He grumbled, opening the door to head back to his cart and nearly smacking directly into a woman. Luckily, they both caught themselves in time, and Trevor quickly stepped to the side to let her in.

“Sorry.” She said quickly, forcing a friendly laugh and stepping past him. She was clearly beyond nervous to be around him, and it reminded him violently of his current state. He let out a small sigh and just left, deciding there was no reason to scare the poor woman any more than he already had.

The rest of the day droned by as he kept himself tucked in his room, reading some old fantasy novel that had belonged to Conner. He told himself time after time, when Conner was still with him, that he would start to read them too, so they could talk about them together. Conner watched soccer and baseball for him, and yet he never got around to just reading a book- a book that was actually pretty good- for Conner.

He had no reason to leave the safety of his room, deciding he’d avoid Kirk at nearly any and all costs. He figured the bastard couldn’t work all day, so he’d make his way to the dinner cart around sunset. Then only two days would remain, and it might take a bit more planning, but he figured he could pull it off. It wasn’t like he ate often anyway.

“You really grind my gears, Trevor, you know?” Conner huffed, pouting his cheeks out and glancing up at Trevor. They were walking down a packed city street, side by side, their shoulders close together but hands never touching.

“I could say the same for you.” Trevor shot back, and Conner shoved into him just a bit, making him stumble to the side. Trevor laughed and looked back down at the other man, raising his brows to indicate he was wondering why.

“You never eat! Ever! You’re so damn unhealthy. I’ve never seen someone as unnatural as you. You live on cigarettes, coffee, and lettuce, I swear to god. Your organs must be screaming for nutrition of any kind. I looked like some pig in that restaurant, with you ordering a side salad!” Conner exclaimed, gesturing his hands around the way he did when he was excited or passionate about something.

Trevor couldn’t disagree- he and Conner were violently different in their eating habits, and it showed. While he was all lean, thick muscle, Conner was more of a thick, curvy, squishy thing. He had thighs that were so perfect, Trevor found himself nearly salivating at the thought, his eyes fluttering down to glance at them as they walked. The tight dress pants Conner was wearing really made them look wonderful, his hips swaying, his ass looking oh so perfect-

“Hey! My eyes are up here!” Conner said, but was unable to hold back the laugh that came with it. Trevor joined in with him, snorting at the silly line and throwing his arm around Conner’s shoulders in a way that, to anyone watching, was just a friendly gesture. To them, it was more, a shared feeling of intimacy and love as they were pressed close together with no barriers.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s hard not to think about such a fulfilling meal, you know?” Trevor teased, keeping his voice dangerously low. Conner let a breath out of his nose and turned his face the other way, shaking his head around a bit. He brought his hand up and shoved Trevor’s face away, separating them.

“You- You don’t get off that easily, Trevor!” He shook his head and wagged his finger around, “I’m putting you on a diet, but, like, opposite. You have to eat, Trevor, I can’t… I can’t lose you, okay? Whatever goes on in that weird brain of yours, just, let me help.”

Conner’s voice was sweet, and sincere, and Trevor dropped the playful act he had previous and gently pressed up against Conner’s arm, pretending he was more squished from the passerby’s. Conner glanced up at him, a look of worry in his pale blue eyes, and Trevor nodded in return.

“Alright. I’ll listen to you.”

If that Conner could see him now, Trevor was sure he’d rip him some sort of new hole in anger. Trevor was barely half of the man he was when Conner was alive. Of course, the Conner that he killed- well that Conner would know he was getting what he deserved. Rotting away like this, getting those judgmental eyes and snark comments from people around him; it was all his payment for what he did. Hell’s cold grip could come up from under the tracks and yank him down into it’s waiting embrace this very moment, and he wouldn’t complain.

A sharp knock at the door brought him out of his state, and he sat up a bit on the chair, narrowing his eyes. Suspicion was always the first thing that ran through him in these situations. It was all in his training, in what he’d grown to know over constant years of living as a spy. Even now, on the run from it all, he was still high strung all the time.

“Yes?” He called, cringing a bit at the stupid word choice. Why not ‘I’m busy’ or ‘go away?’ Why was he acting so formal?

“I brought you food. You haven’t come back to eat, and you didn’t eat any of the breakfast that I made you. You’re not starving on my train, got it? I don’t need to lose my job. Open the door.” Kirk’s voice cut through the room like a knife, and Trevor sat still in his chair for another moment before standing up and sliding the door open, meeting eyes with the slightly shorter man.

In his hand was a dinner plate, stacked with a thick flank of steak, buttery warm mashed potatoes, and three different kinds of vegetables mixed together. It looked significantly better than the breakfast that had been on his table that morning, and he raised his brows at Kirk, expecting an explanation.

“The chef made this, you jag-off.” Kirk huffed, shoving the plate into his hands. He wasn’t in the bartender outfit anymore, instead in more of a casual outfit, basketball shorts that fit his athletic legs and hips just right, and a graphic tee-shirt that displayed some television show he’d never heard of before. He was almost cute like this, if he didn’t wear that sour expression on his face.

“I wasn’t trying to insult you. The breakfast this morning just wasn’t near this level, is all I’m saying.” Trevor tried to smile- he didn’t need to make more enemies, let alone some angry civilian that worked on a train. If his picture ever went up anywhere, and Kirk hated him for being the dick on the train, he’d easily sell away Trevor’s last location.

“Whatever. Eat it. Do I have to stay and make sure you do?” Kirk was clearly trying to eye up whatever Trevor had inside his room, his eyes occasionally drifting to the sides to try and look past Trevor.

“I’m not a child.” Trevor replied to him, but took the fork that rested neatly on the plate and took a large bite of the mashed potatoes, almost melting at the taste. He couldn’t remember the last time that he’d tasted something so good. Kirk was taking his moment of bliss to really start inspecting the room behind him, standing up a bit on his tiptoes to see over Trevor’s shoulder.

“Thank you for the food, Kirk.” Trevor noticed him inspecting from the hallway and decided that was more than enough, stepping back into his room and sliding the door closed. He let out a small sigh and stared at the plate that rested in his hands before he dropped it into the garbage and instead laid down on the bed, staring at the wall.

It felt nearly impossible to sleep, even with daylight fading away. He knew that he should be tired at this point, the previous two attempts at sleep being ruined by endless, shrill nightmares, and the days long and mundane. He turned onto his back and instead chose to stare at the ceiling, with it’s ancient, rotting patterns and chipped paint. Conner would probably appreciate an old train like this, he’d find it’s history fascinating, and probably buy books on it the second they got off.

Maybe he’d do that.

Kirk was not in the dinner car the next morning. Trevor almost felt sad, because the other bartender/waiter was nowhere near as fun as Kirk was. She was older, meaner, and quick with everything, practically throwing his coffee and plate of overcooked food at him before waddling back off to the kitchen. Trevor did not want to start any sort of conversation with her.

He focused on his coffee instead, his eyes tired from the pure lack of sleep he’d gotten the night before. Daylight was dancing against the old, white cup, making it look much more appealing than it actually was. He picked at the food on his plate, taking small bites to satisfy the pain in his gut, when someone took the seat across from him. He looked up with a startled noise, only to relax when he realized it was Kirk.

“You’re going to eat that junk, but you didn’t eat my breakfast?” Kirk said, adding mock hurt to his tone. Trevor rolled his eyes and continued to pick apart the sausage, pulling away the burnt skin to get to the meat on the inside.

“I wasn’t hungry when you served me. If it makes you feel better, I can promise you, yours looked and smelled better than whatever poison this is.” Trevor grumbled, bringing a bit of the meat up to his lips and pressing it into his mouth. Kirk watched him the whole time, leaning on his hand and clearly waiting for something.

“So listen. Are we going to fuck, or what?” Kirk finally spoke, and Trevor nearly choked on the small bite he’d taken, his eyes watering as he coughed and looked at the other man. Kirk was still waiting with that ‘well?’ expression on his face, drumming his fingers on the table.

“What do you mean, are we going to fuck?” Trevor hissed, trying to keep his voice low to avoid any unwanted ears from hearing such a conversation. Kirk, on the other hand, spoke with confidence, like he didn’t care who heard.

“You’ve been flirting around with me since you got here. I saw you checking out my legs last night. Are we going to fuck? I’m not going to wait around for you. I’ve got this morning and afternoon off, so we can mess around all-“

“No. I’m not going to ‘mess around’ with you.” Trevor cut him off, slamming his hand down on the table. Kirk jumped a bit, clearly taken aback by the sudden change in Trevor’s demeanor. He raised his hands up slowly.

“Sorry. I just assumed with the way you’re acting-“ he attempted to say, but Trevor was already standing up, throwing cash on the table for the other waitress.

“Don’t assume. I’m taken.” Trevor said quickly, and before he turned to leave, noticed a very odd expression flash across Kirk’s face. He could care less about it at this point, and made his way to the exit of the car, wanting to be as far away from Kirk as possible.

“Hey, Trevor? Can I ask you a question?”

The moonlight was escaping through the blinds, casting a faint light throughout the expensive hotel room. The empty second bed was dusted in it’s light, but the two of them weren’t bothered by it, simply sharing the first bed, cuddled together after a very long night of work.

Conner’s eyes were hazy with sleep, but they were expectant and sweet, waiting for Trevor’s response. Trevor wasn’t exactly tired himself, but he didn’t mind laying in bed all night if it meant he could hold Conner like this.

“Anything in the world, babe.” Trevor responded, threading his fingers through Conner’s hair as he undid some of the knots that were still stuck from the bun.

“If I were to die, do you think you’d get a new partner? I think about it a lot, you know? What I would do if something happened to you, what… how I would handle it all…” Conner said, now unable to maintain eye contact with Trevor.

Trevor himself was a bit taken back by the question, trying to find the best way to answer it. Of course, he knew there was no way in hell he’d be able to continue without Conner in his life, without the partner he’d worked with for years to guide him. He’d just never sat and thought on it like this, never expecting to have to deal with the worst.

“What would you do?” He asked instead, trying to test the water and see what Conner was searching for. Sometimes, he was a box of emotions that was just too hard to crack, and it was easier to get in his head before he got into Trevor’s.

“I… I think I’d try to move on. For the agency, for what we stand for. But I don’t know if I could. I’d never date again, that’s for sure, because… you’re my world. You’re my soulmate. I know that, through and through.” Conner said, his voice very serious. Trevor let a small smile slip through his lips, and leaned down to gently kiss Conner.

“I don’t think I could do either. I don’t know what I would do without you, Conner. We’re two halves of a whole. There would be no point to all of this nonsense without you.” Trevor assured him, keeping their lips just fleetingly pressed together. When he felt Conner smile back, he knew he’d said just the right thing.

“Trevor? I love you.”

“I love you too, Conner.”

Sometimes he wondered how they stayed in such a bliss for so long. Six years together, three of them dating each other, always under constant watch by the agency- but never truly letting it get to them. Their love felt like it was untouchable, for so god damn long. Yet, Trevor had been willing to let it all go. He’d let the stress of everything get to him; the eyes of the agency, the missions they were on, the rest of the world. He let all of it block his vision from what really, truly mattered- Conner.

Now he couldn’t do anything about it. He had to sit, the blood on his hands of the one person he loved more than anything in the world, for the rest of his miserable life. If he was lucky, this train stop would be his last though. A beautiful waterfall sat in the town he was headed to- a popular tourist destination, the world around it beautiful and peaceful. Conner had spoken of it so many times in their years together, always wanting to go and see it. Trevor had never taken him. He was never good to Conner, never in the way he should have been.

Even if Conner wasn’t with him, Trevor believed he was in spirit. He’d go to the falls, and let them both take it in, see everything it had to offer- and then he was going to jump. Join Conner in whatever waited for him on the other side. Screw the agency, screw living, screw the world. He was going to be with Conner like he promised. He was going to make up everything that he did wrong to the person he loved. Nothing was going to stop him.

“Open the door.” Kirk’s voice cut through his thoughts yet again, and he let out a bit of a growl, frustrated at the other man.

“Don’t you have a job to do? Leave me alone. I’ll report you to somebody.” Trevor shot back, not moving an inch from his chair.

“I told you, I had the morning and afternoon off. You’ve only been pouting in here an hour, I still have plenty of time. Let me in.” Kirk replied, knocking hard on the door to annoy Trevor into complying. Trevor let out a bit of a huff, but stood up and cracked the door open just a bit so that he and Kirk could make eye contact.

“What do you want.” Trevor kept his voice low, so Kirk knew he wasn’t into the conversation.

“Listen, I know you’re not taken, so just tell me the truth. Why don’t you want to mess around? We’ve clearly been flirting with each other the past two days. What, is it because I’m black? Or aren’t you gay? No, you’re gay, so don’t even try that one-“

“I am taken. Happily. I don’t need you to go about acting like you know me. I don’t fuck strangers on trains, either.” Trevor cut him off harshly and went to close the door, but he caught Kirk mutter something.

“I beg to differ.”

It was light, and barely audible, but Trevor heard it. He slammed the door shut then and locked it, taking a few quick steps back and away. His hand went straight for his carry on, his eyes never leaving the door as he dug through it, trying to find his gun- but his blood ran cold when he found it was gone. He quickly took the chair and slammed it up against the door so that there was no way to open it beside busting it down, and pressed himself back against the far wall.

There was silence on the other side of the door, but then he heard Kirk’s footsteps retreat down the hallway. Trevor slid down the wall, feeling his body shake just so bad. There was no way in hell anyone else other than an agent of their division would know about the train story. No one else even knew who the hell he was.

When he first met Conner, they had been paired on a mission together. They met on a train, and there was a sort of instant, unquestionable connection between them. They barely waited one evening to throw themselves at each other, christening their new partnership on the rickety bed. Their agency didn’t take this very well, and leaked the sound to everyone else as punishment to Conner and Trevor, and warning to everyone else:

No relationships allowed.

They were lucky they weren’t killed, or worse, when they were put on trial for what they’d done. They were only rookies though, so they were let off with a very stern warning and a slap on the wrist that kept them apart from each other for the next three years of their lives. Fear; their relationship had been built on it. The agency they were a part of didn’t let them forget it, breathing down their necks every day for the next six years.

It got to the point that Trevor started to think that he and Conner would be better apart. He couldn’t live his life with the constant fear that simply being in love could lead to the end of everything he’d ever worked for, or even his life.

Now one of the agents were here. On this train.

Kirk must be an undercover. He’d never met him before, so there was no way he was a normal agent like he or Conner. Kirk was one of the tough ones, that did the hard missions, the ones no one else wanted to do. They were kept under the rug, just in case they ever had to go after another agent- just like now. Trevor never thought that they would catch up to him like this- he had been so careful, he’d covered his tracks in every way possible-

“I think they chipped us.” Conner said. They were sitting naked together in a fancy hotel bed, having just fucked the stress of the day away, and now going over the notes before them for their current mission. Conner was behind him, playing with his hair, when he brushed his finger gently over the back of Trevor’s neck, making him shiver.

“What do you mean, they chipped us?” Trevor asked, trying to turn his head back to look at his own neck.

“You can’t see it, Trev,” Conner laughed a bit, but slid in front of Trevor, pulling his own hair up to show Trevor the back of his neck. If he looked hard enough, squinted his eyes at just the right angle, he could see a scar so small it almost looked like just a mis-colored speck of skin.

“Do you see? You have one too… It’s like were animals.” Conner muttered, staring forward and running his hand down the back of his neck. Trevor frowned, but gently wrapped his arms around Conner, pulling him back into a tight hug.

“Don’t worry about it. We get out of it in the end. They won’t want us when we can’t jump a ledge anymore. You know that. They’ll wipe us like Alec, and we’ll find each other, and grow old, happily.” Trevor whispered, pressing a small kiss into Conner’s temple. Conner relaxed in his arms and nodded his head, pressing his face gently against Trevor’s.

He was a moron. An absolute moron. How could he go about and forget such an important thing? The god damn chip. He brought his hand to the back of his neck and felt along, trying to find any evidence of it, but was left with nothing but smooth skin. The bastards weren’t going to let him go this easily, of course not. Kirk had his gun. Kirk had him right where he wanted him.

He felt the tears start to swell in his eyes as he slid down to the ground. All he wanted was to do one more thing. He just had to see the falls, he had to see them for Conner. Why couldn’t they just let him do this one thing?

There was a faint knocking that woke him up. It was soft, and light, and it reminded him of how Conner knocked on the door. He stayed where he was on the floor and just took it in, reliving every time he heard Conner knock, or call for him. It was relaxing, almost, until the woman on the other end spoke, shattering his pathetic illusion.

“Excuse me, sir? The train has arrived, sir. You have to get off.” The attendant said, her voice tired. Trevor could only imagine what was waiting for him on the other side of that door. He knew he had to face the music though, and slowly pulled himself off the ground. He didn’t know how long he was laying there, nor did he care.

He picked his bags up in one motion, leaving whatever was out of them out. He wasn’t going to need it anyway. It was all over now. He pushed the chair out of the way and yanked the door open, scaring the girl, who took a quick step out of his way. She looked nervous as all hell, blocking the path to the left, only giving him the option of exiting right.

“Thank you for riding with us.” She said quickly, her head down and her hands clutched together. He let out a grunt in reply, dropped his wallet at her feet, and then made his way to the exit.

It was still outside. The platform was empty, and the night sky was dark around him. Crickets were singing in the night, the only noise around. It was colder than Trevor expected it to be, and as he stepped off the steel stairs, he shivered. There was only one lamp on, and it illuminated a single figure.

Kirk was waiting for him, much more finely dressed than Trevor had seen him the last few days. He wore a slim fitting black suit that hugged him in just the right places, making him look as if he was blended perfectly into the night around them. Like death, waiting for his next victim to walk right towards him. The only difference was his blond hair, that stood out so violently Trevor almost laughed.

“What are you smiling for?” Kirk asked, shoving his hands in his pockets and moving forward to meet Trevor half way.

“It’s almost comedic. Your hair.” Trevor muttered, his eyes stuck on the blond mess. Kirk glanced up himself, but no smile split his face. He was all business now.

“You can’t run forever, Trevor. I’m taking you in now, or never.” Kirk said, pulling his coat up to reveal Trevor’s own gun. Trevor let out a breath of air, almost pitying Kirk. If only he didn’t care about seeing the falls for Conner. He’d fight Kirk right here, if all he cared about was his death. Deep down, he wondered if they knew that.

“What do they even want me for?” Trevor asked, dropping his bags down and holding his wrists out for Kirk, who seemed almost shocked at his compliance to the whole thing. Trevor liked that he was throwing curve balls at Kirk still. It made him feel a little less trapped.

“Conner is your responsibility. They want you to get him back.” Kirk said, and now Trevor was the one who was hit with the curveball. He shook his head in disbelief and took a step back.

“What the hell do you mean? Conner’s dead. He- I saw him fall of the roof, Kirk-“ Trevor stuttered, watching as Kirk pulled out his phone and flashed Trevor a picture- one that made his heart stop. It was a blurry image, taken from a surveillance camera, but who was on it was undeniable. That thick mess of black hair, the rounded face- that was Conner. He was stuck between two taller men, his hands hidden under a jacket, his eyes down- but it was him.

“…when was this taken?” Trevor whispered, his voice wavering with disbelief.

“Two weeks ago. Southern Texas. You’re coming with me, Trevor, and we’re going to go and find him, before whoever has him can get him to talk.” Kirk said, slamming the hand cuffs on Trevor’s still outstretched arms, and yanking him towards the exit. He didn’t get very far though, for Trevor couldn’t hold himself together.

He collapsed onto the ground, his eyes rolling up into his head, the idea of Conner being alive too much for him to handle. Kirk stumbled away from him and let out a huff, placing his hands on his hips and staring at the mess on the ground.

“This is why I don’t do partners.”

#spy au #original #ocs #original character #OC: Conner #OC: Kirk #OC: Trevor #a gift for a friend #My writing #writing #i love my ocs

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cloudsandcloudsandclouds · 6 years ago

Text

Losing to You

Finding You

"Trevor!" Conner yelled, his voice strained and scared, "Do something!"

It had happened again.

He needed a drink.

"You don't have to be an alcoholic to enjoy a good drink." Trevor gave in return, not trying to fight with the snarky young man, but not taking kindly to his comment.

The bartender rolled his eyes and just grunted in return, grabbing a clean glass and waiting for Trevor to pick his poison.

"Thank you." Trevor sighed, grabbing the glass and taking his first sip, letting out a small sigh of relief as the alcohol flooded into his system.

“Look at you, finally getting what you deserve.” Conner whispered, pressing his cold, blue lips against Trevor’s ear, sending the worst of chills through his body.

“You know that I would do anything, Conner, anything to get you back!” He tried, his voice pathetic and small. Conner’s lips turned into a scowl and he let out a deep, angry chortle.

“Conner that’s not true, that’s not true, I loved you, I love you-“

The remains of the mirror fell back with a sickening crunch.

“I think you look worse than yesterday.”

“What is your name! I’m going to tell someone about this-“

“Alright. I’ll listen to you.”

“Yes?” He called, cringing a bit at the stupid word choice. Why not ‘I’m busy’ or ‘go away?’ Why was he acting so formal?

Maybe he’d do that.

“Sorry. I just assumed with the way you’re acting-“ he attempted to say, but Trevor was already standing up, throwing cash on the table for the other waitress.

“Hey, Trevor? Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything in the world, babe.” Trevor responded, threading his fingers through Conner’s hair as he undid some of the knots that were still stuck from the bun.

“Trevor? I love you.”

“I love you too, Conner.”

“Open the door.” Kirk’s voice cut through his thoughts yet again, and he let out a bit of a growl, frustrated at the other man.

“Don’t you have a job to do? Leave me alone. I’ll report you to somebody.” Trevor shot back, not moving an inch from his chair.

“What do you want.” Trevor kept his voice low, so Kirk knew he wasn’t into the conversation.

“I beg to differ.”

No relationships allowed.

Now one of the agents were here. On this train.

“What do you mean, they chipped us?” Trevor asked, trying to turn his head back to look at his own neck.

“Thank you for riding with us.” She said quickly, her head down and her hands clutched together. He let out a grunt in reply, dropped his wallet at her feet, and then made his way to the exit.

“What are you smiling for?” Kirk asked, shoving his hands in his pockets and moving forward to meet Trevor half way.

“It’s almost comedic. Your hair.” Trevor muttered, his eyes stuck on the blond mess. Kirk glanced up himself, but no smile split his face. He was all business now.

“Conner is your responsibility. They want you to get him back.” Kirk said, and now Trevor was the one who was hit with the curveball. He shook his head in disbelief and took a step back.

“…when was this taken?” Trevor whispered, his voice wavering with disbelief.

“This is why I don’t do partners.”

#losing to you #drama #action #romance #spies #gay #polyamory #mystery #murder

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nercomancyandbooks · 8 years ago

Text

"This is manslaughter, Stiles.." His speech had been marginally slurred, the agony evident in his impaired posture. Vital fluid cascaded from the fissure that formed in once tawny, unblemished flesh. Once deep, chestnut optics modified from a once animated burst of color to a a barren, unnerving sallow. A perpetual glower etched along his visage, brows furrowing, trembling hands scrambling to clutch the wound. Blood gushed, staining the tiled floor a dreary crimson. Threats persisted to pour from the wounded lycanthrope's dry, cracked lips. Empty threats. Manslaughter. The figure standing opposite of the wounded warrior sneered. The embodiment of turpitude, the features alarmingly familiar. It was as if he was peering into a mirror of unpleasantry. Viewing a movie that turned his stomach, though the gory scenes hadn't been the cause. It was the eerie look of the attacker. The eerie familiar look. His face. His actions. "Stiles, please.." Aiden pleaded for his essence, his palpitating organ to persist and not fizzle out. The once presumptuous, courageous demeanor he once captured fading to nihility as he begged for another breath, to fill his lungs with the oxygen his body so desperately craved. "Stiles.." On loop his name slipped in a hoarse, fretful tone. It continued as Aiden's tanned complexion grew to a ghastly pallid, the tone altering to a deep and menacing inflection. A once brawny werewolf stripped of his dignity as he crumbled, skin peeling, blood spilling from his oculars, pooling from the gaping wound in his torso until nothing was left. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * "Stiles!" This time his name elapsed from a fresh pair of parted lips, the tone far more frustrated with only a hint of apprehensiveness nothing like the formally distressed beta. A warm, protective hand clamped down on his shoulder. Languorous, cerulean orbs scrutinized his lethargic features. Broad digits coiled around the wooden arm rests of the chair he had been currently seated in. The teen allowed his optics to investigate his surroundings. The occupied police station, filled with officers scurrying about, his perturbed father hovering over him and awaiting a sarcastic remark of some sort as proof he had been unscathed. "Dad, hey. Yeah, I'm good. I guess I just.. dozed." Stiles offered an equally as assuring hand to cloak over his fathers which had remained on his shoulder. He also forced a comforting smile for added encouragement. "Stiles, it's been sheer chaos here all night. It's a wonder you got any sleep at all in this kind of environment." The adolescent chuckled with a shrug of his shoulders in response. Truth be told, a boisterous ambiance had proven to be a far more sufficient surrounding than a quiescent one given the trauma he had endured throughout the year. The nogitsune had washed over him, creeping into his veins in the most peaceful of moments. Stiles found comfort in noise, other human beings, as long as he wasn't causing them pain of any kind. "Malia stopped by last night." Sheriff Stilinski piped up, pulling the teen from his heavy reflection. "She didn't want to wake you, but I told her I'd give you the message. I think she misses you.." His father accompanied the vocals with a noble grin. Malia. The naive coyote had been attempting to contact him for the last two weeks. His phone was constantly ringing with text tones and ringtones all being brought forth by the same desperate female. He'd managed to duck her in the hallways, his best friend agreeing to cover for him just as Stiles often did for him when it came to Allison. He couldn't face her. Not yet. "You don't need to feel guilty. I know what it's like not feel in control, Stiles. Those murders weren't committed by /you/ and it doesn't change the way I view you. It's just death. It happens all the time. You need to just let it go because letting the guilt consume you won't lead to anything good." Those words were on loop in his mind, becoming an endless tune he couldn't shake. Malia had proven to be dissimilar. Her mindset was far more barbaric. She did possess the instincts of an animal more often than not and it wasn't something Stiles could fault her on, but it also wasn't a lifestyle he would accept as his own. Not with perilous memories continuing to haunt his fragile psyche. "Glad to hear that those keen observant skills haven't failed you, but-" His statement had trailed off once a familiar text tone came into earshot. "Important. Meet us in the school parking lot at 9." The teen cursed under his breath, nearly misplacing the fact that he had to attend school today. It was his proposal as guidance to a healthier and a more ordinary lifestyle. Normalcy had sounded favorable in theory, but he wasn't positive how long it would truly last. "Crap, I gotta go. I haven't graduated /yet/, so I guess attending classes is still sorta mandatory." Hoisting his exhausted frame up, he snagged his backpack. "Stiles, no. You need to catch up on some sleep. Missing one day isn't going to kill ya." The sheriff urged, resting two large, comforting hands against the teen's shoulders to halt his actions. One day of classes? Well, at least this was a subject his father's regularly attentive skills deteriorated. What he didn't know wouldn't harm him, right? "I'm good, 'sides I have a chem test today and a possible freaky, supernatural case to tend to." Adjusting the straps of his book bag on his shoulders, he shoved his hand into his pocket to fish out the keys to his jeep before making a beeline for the exit of the noisy sheriff station. A sigh of defeat escaped Stilinski's parted lips. "Stiles - be careful." Was the last form of advice the sheriff provided to his teenage son before he disappeared into his office. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The school parking lot had been barren aside from the numerous rows of student cars occupying spaces. Evidently, his peers had chosen to attend class - something Stiles and his pack neglected more often than not. Speaking of his pack - they could easily be spotted by a large oak tree sheltering them from the hot Californian sun, the large tree branches providing just enough shade. Joining the group, Stiles allowed his bronze orbs to scrutinize the faces within the group. "Hey! Sorry, I - Late, but here." Scott. Malia - awkward. Lydia - double awkward. Liam. Hayden. Mason. Brows furrowing, his gaze meeting Scott's. "Where's Aaron?" He inquired. "Exceptionally late as-" "Usual. Right.." Stiles finished the statement for his best friend before chuckling softly. The group engaged in minor chitchat, but Stiles remained unusually quiet as the events of his nightmare repeated in his mind. It was enough to keep him engaged, to cause his heart rate to spike, and his nerves to increase. He noted that Malia continuously shot concerned glances in his direction. Werewolf senses - impossible to bypass. "Hey.." A familiar voice rasped before joining the group. Aaron stood beside Malia and Scott before Scott finally provided them with some insight on why he decided to call them all to the parking lot. Stiles listened intently to his cohort, nodding on occasion, remaining surprisingly tight lipped during the entire explanation. Missing girls, dangerous small town, - just another day in the life.. "It's impossible that we all fit into one car, so maybe Lydia you should-" Stiles caught Scott's gaze and immediately piped up, saving the both of them. "Go with Scott. And, uh, Malia." He managed to get out, avoiding eye contact with both females. Scott nodded before eyeing Aaron. "You go with Stiles." He decided. In moments the group dispersed and entered their assigned vehicles. Seated behind the wheel, he started the jeep, put it in drive and exited the school parking lot. The group was off to Allendale to locate the missing women and hopefully send them back home with every limb still intact. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The drive was rather quiet, the two seemingly engrossed in their own busy minds. "I, uh, I-" The blonde stuttered over her words before recuperating and managing to get her thought out in smooth vocals. "I guess when we get there, maybe you and I could start setting up the censers since…none of the others can stand it right?" Nodding his head in agreement, he shot the occasional glance in her direction in order to make some form of eye contact. "Probably a good idea." Stiles mumbled before chuckling softly. "Y'know, why is it that we're always stuck with the grunt work?" The teen teased, attempting to lighten the mood and break the silence they had fallen captive to. Once their destination was reached, it was decided that Scott and the rest would scope out the town and question residents whilst Stiles and Aaron stayed back. Shooting a glance toward Aaron he rolled his eyes dramatically before the group began to dispel. "See, grunt work." He nudged the blonde before they approached the trunk of the jeep to gather necessary supplies. Beginning to unload the back of his jeep, he lifted his gaze, noting that the blonde remained immobile, cerulean hues darting about the expanse. "Hey, you okay?" The teen inquired, pausing his actions as his features contorted, brows furrowing with concern. "I see something, I'm gonna go check it out!" Aaron hollered back toward him. "Aaron! Wait, I think-" Stiles attempted to protest before the female abscond from the jeep and darted toward the forest. ".. you should totally ignore me and go roaming through the woods all by yourself because sticking together sounds dangerous." He mumbled under his breath before snagging his bat. He knew an actual deadly weapon would be of more use, but he sure as hell didn't trust himself to operate it. Lengthy, agile legs carried his scrawny frame across the ebony tar coated road. There was a clearing and the blonde could be seen darting down a dirt path. Stiles immediately sprinted after the blonde, bat clutched in his right hand as he chased her occasionally yelling out her name in order to gain her attention.

#wtf is a zeppo 2

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