Just another random fic that popped into my head today while I was stuck inside during the never ending rain. And then it wouldn't leave me alone. So this is the result.
Tom was bored.
Maths had never been his best subject in school and it was rare that he made it through class awake but the last few weeks had been considerably better. Alex had been back after demanding a holiday from MI6 –who had surprisingly agreed to let him graduate in peace and alive—but it seemed as though they had pulled him back in as, once again, Alex was gone.
Tom sighed as he stared at Alex's empty desk. It was amazing how fast MI6 could scoop him up and send him off to some far corner of the world –the last time had been China—without so much as a week notice. Just three days ago Tom had been in the park, playing football, with Alex and a couple other boys on Brookland's football team. And now, he was off running around some foreign country, probably some jungle in Africa, and Tom was stuck in Ms. Klein's maths class, listening to her drone on about sine and why it was the most important thing in the world.
He didn't care how much Alex complained about his missions, anything was better than sitting through this class.
Careful not to get caught by the teacher, Tom pulled his mobile phone out of his back pocket and started a text message to Alex. This had become a sort of ritual in the last three years; Alex would disappear for a couple weeks, Tom would send a text message asking where he had been sent and Alex would reply when he could –usually when he got back as he never took his mobile on missions. That was one of Alex's major issues with spy movies: the spies always take their personal mobiles with them on their assignments even though it was one of the stupidest things you could ever do. In fact, if someone did happen to bring their phone on a mission, Alex would get up and leave the cinema right then and not go back to the movie.
Where did they send you this time?
Making sure his phone was on silent, he set it on his lap then returned to taking the worst notes in history, focusing more on his phone than the lesson. This was why so many kids were failing school.
Surprisingly, Alex answered within five minutes, his text message written out with no abbreviations. One of the downsides of Alex being gone so much, was that he missed so much that was happening. He rarely knew any new trends, no recent celebrities, hell he didn't even know who Hannah Montana was. The one time Tom used abbreviations in a text message with Alex –it had been a long one, about the latest big drama Alex had missed while he was out of the country—Alex had simply called him and said one word in response to the 330+ character long text: What?
Tom picked up his phone and opened the new message. He was surprised to find that Alex was, in fact, still in the country.
No where. I'm at home sick.
Tom almost laughed out loud. Alex was actually sick? He couldn't even remember the last time his friend had been sick. Sure, he got the occasional cold and had to blow his nose a few times, but anything beyond that was practically unheard of. He was still laughing quietly to himself as he responded with:
Seriously? With what?
The response was surprisingly fast considering Alex hadn't had that much experience with texting. The teen spy could type faster than Tom had ever seen on a computer keyboard, but give him a mobile phone and it was like working with a monkey. Part of what took so long was that Alex had to spellcheck everything. It came from writing reports for MI6 where spelling errors were like a capital offence worthy of the death penalty.
The flu. I think I'm dying.
Their conversation continued on for the next two periods –Spanish and history—until the end of the day when Tom could finally get out of the depressing brick building and run somewhere, get rid of all his pent up energy. Breathing a sigh of relief, Tom headed towards his bicycle to ride home, throwing his school bag over his shoulder as he tried to remember exactly what his homework had been for Spanish and wondered if he could convince Alex to help him with it.
"Tom!" Some yelled behind him. He turned, walking backwards, to see Max and Ethan running towards him. They both look frantic, repeating his name over and over until they reached him, skidding to a stop. They were both on the football team with him and frequently joined him and Alex for their football games in the park.
"Hey, was Alex here today?" Ethan gasped out, winded from running so much. Tom guessed they'd been running all over school looking for him.
"No, he's sick." He answered truthfully, genuinely glad he didn't have to lie about it this time.
"Again?" Max groaned, stamping his foot like a child. "Scheiße(1), he has the worst timing!" Max's family was from Germany so he often slipped into German without really realizing it. Tom was about to ask him what this was about but quickly realized his attention was elsewhere as he scanned the yard full of students milling around, seemingly looking for someone.
"Why do you need him?" Tom asked Ethan who had a slightly longer attention span.
"We're short a player for tomorrow's match!" Ethan explained, still looking slightly panicked. "Mathew is out with the flu and won't be back in time. We were hoping Alex could play instead." He looked around the yard also, trying to think of anyone else who could play football.
Tom was truly crushed by the news. If they didn't have enough players, they would have to forfeit and completely ruin their winning streak. This was the first winning streak they had since Alex left the team last year. Sure they had good players, but they couldn't always play together. Max and Ethan tended to play as a team within a team, as Tom had with Alex, and the rest of the team were just playing solo most of the time. When Alex had been on the team, he had acted as captain and kept people communicating with each other and playing well together. After he left, it took a good year to figure out how to work together without yelling.
"Well, what about…James?" Tom suggested, spouting out the first name that popped into his head. James had been on the team two year ago but quit after an…altercation with the opposing team's star player which resulted in two bloody noses. He wasn't the best player in the school, but he knew the rules of the game.
"Are you high?" Ethan asked, completely serious. "He can't even kick straight, the stupid prat. The only other good player in the bloody school is Alex!"
He was completely right. Alex was second only to Tom and probably would've been even better if he actually had time to play anymore.
"How sick is he?" Ethan asked after a pause. "I mean, could he play one match tomorrow? Without throwing up on the pitch, I mean."
"Yeah!" Max chimed in eagerly. "He wouldn't even have to do anything, he could just stand there, really."
Tom knew that if he asked Alex, he would do it whether he was sick or now. Alex loved football and wanted to be on the team more than anything. But, due to his very time consuming day job, he just didn't have the time to go to practice. Tom didn't know what to do; he wanted to win this match, but he didn't want Alex to collapse on the pitch either…
Max and Ethan were practically bouncing with anticipation, never taking their eyes off of Tom.
"Well, I don't know how sick he is…" He started, which was true, he hadn't actually asked Alex about his condition, and it was hard to tell from a text message.
"'Then let's go see him!" Max exclaimed. He phrased it as a suggestion, but Tom knew that once Max and Ethan made up their minds, there was no changing them no matter what he said. They made their decision and there was no stopping them. This was a trait that was very useful in football and made them very determined players, but in most social situations like this, it wasn't such a good thing.
"Fine, but we should probably call first…" Tom trailed off as he opened his mobile to warn Alex of the tornado about to hit his peaceful Chelsea home. He knew he hated surprises, he always had. It was just Alex, he always liked to know what was coming and that had just been reinforced with all of this MI6 business.
"Nonsense! Let's surprise him!" Max cried out, grabbing the mobile and putting it into his pocket where Tom couldn't get it. "Since when are you so serious, Tommy?" He joked as he unlocked his bicycle from the rack. Tom knew that Alex was going to hate him after this.
Half an hour later, the three boys pulled their bicycles into Alex's empty driveway and leaned them in the pile against the side of the house. It seemed as though Jack was still out since her car was gone.
"So this is the mysterious Rider household…" Ethan mused, looking up at the fantastically normal house in front of him as he took off his helmet and tossed it onto the pile of bikes. "It doesn't look like a project dealing crack…" Tom snorted, thinking of all the rumors that had once followed Alex everywhere. Now, it seemed as though the school had gotten over it; Alex was just a mystery. Simple as that.
Laden down with grocery bags from a nearby grocery store, the trio made their way to the back door. On the way, they had stopped to pick up everything they could think of that would help Alex get better in twenty-four hours; canned Chicken Soup, throat lozenges, cough syrup, an assortment of heating and cooling pads, three kinds of tea, Nyquil, Dayquil and other products that had been in the same aisle.
Tom fumbled with his keys as he tried to find the right key without dropping the bags of chicken soup. He finally found it, it one Alex had labeled "Shed", and unlocked the back door. A year ago, Jack had decided she was sick of answering the door so she just gave him the key, saying that if he could keep Alex's secret for two years, he was mature enough to have his own key to the place. Just don't give it to any Russian assassins. She had added offhandedly as if it were completely normal.
"Hey Al, its Tom!" He called out as he opened the door, giving Alex plenty of warning as the one time he didn't give warning, Alex had almost knocked him out with a pan. Luckily, Alex had really good reflexes.
"Honey, we're home!" Ethan yelled as he entered, kicking off his shoes on the mat. At least the guy had some manners. Max and Tom followed suit then the three stormed into the house.
"What the hell…?" Alex exclaimed from the TV room. Tom pointed the way and the three entered to see Alex's head poking over the back of the couch, looking very alarmed. He hair had gotten longer since he wasn't doing missions right now and it was sticking up all over the place. Paired with the small bags under his bleary eyes and dazed expression on his face, Tom guessed he had just woken up…from the dead. "Jesus Tom, you couldn't have warned me?"
"I tried to…" Tom explained apologetically. "…but Max took my phone." He sent a glare towards the little blond ball of energy that practically jumped over the back of the couch to sit next to Alex, who just barely managed to move his open laptop in time.
"He's not nearly as bad as Mathew." Max announced proudly, pointing at Alex while he looked over his shoulder at Tom and Ethan who were putting their bags of groceries on the counter in the kitchen. "…he doesn't smell too fresh," he added. "But he'll do."
"You don't exactly smell like fresh roses either." Alex scowled, then briefly smelled his shirt. After being sick the last three days and hardly getting up from the couch, he really didn't smell that great. "If I'd known you were coming, I'd at least have changed my shirt. Maybe even showered." He closed his laptop and put it on the coffee table, shooting Tom a glare over his shoulder. Tom really did feel bad about crashing in on him like this, but they really needed one more player and by the looks of it, Alex needed the company.
"Well go take one now." Max ordered, prodding Alex off of the couch. "We'll made the soup." Alex gave him a questioning look, sighed and stood up, but he wasn't complaining or physically harming anyone, so Tom figured that he didn't really hate all this. In fact, it seemed as though Alex was actually enjoying himself.
"Just try not to blow anything up." He sighed as he closed the bathroom door behind him.
"You're one to talk, Mr. Science Lab." Max called after him, but his only response was the shower starting.
"Oh, that's real smart." Ethan scowled as he unpacked the grocery bags and made a large pile of products on the counter. "Make him mad before we ask him to play tomorrow."
"I think we made him mad just by showing up." Max muttered as he got up to wander around, looking at the many pictures scattered around the room, most of Alex and his uncle Ian on their many escapades all around the world, but there was one of Alex's parents on their wedding day and a few others of people Tom didn't know and had never asked about.
"No, he's not mad." Tom assured them as he pointed to the cupboard that held the pots, sparing Ethan the trouble of searching for them. "He just doesn't like surprises."
"Okay guys," Alex started as he walked into the kitchen less than ten minutes later, pulling a fresh shirt over his head. "Why exactly are you here?" Tom felt the atmosphere turn awkward as Max and Ethan were given a glimpse of the many scars that marred Alex's torso.
"Well," He started quickly, covering splendidly for Max and Ethan's sudden silence. "We just wanted to see how you are…" But he knew by Alex's expression as he poked his head over the stove to check the questionable chicken soup that he knew there was more to it.
"Look," Ethan said, straight to the point. "We have a football match tomorrow and we're short a player." Alex straightened slightly and Tom thought he looked much more alert now. "Coach cleared it already and since you never formally left the team…" He trailed off, waiting for a response. The three boys all seemed to hold their breath as they waited. Max started to jiggle his leg and Ethan ran his hand through his short brown hair, signs that both were nervous. For a second it seemed as though Alex might say yes, but instead he just sighed.
"Sorry guys, I can barely walk in a straight line, let alone run around after a ball." It was then that Tom noticed Alex was leaning heavily against the counter, looking extremely tired. "Why don't you try Tyler?" He suggested.
"Now good." Ethan answered flatly, obviously disappointed. "He left early for a holiday in Miami with his sister. You're our only hope, Obi Wan Kenobi." He added with a surprisingly straight face considering what he just said.
That at least got a smile out of Alex. Tom could tell he wanted to say yes and felt bad about pressing the issue, but he also felt that it would be good for Alex to go out and play with the team again. All the guys missed having him around whether they would admit it or not. Alex had also been like the captain and kept the team going even when they were losing spectacularly.
"Sorry, but I don't think I would be much help like this."
"That's why we're here!" Max chimed in with a dangerous glint in his eye. "We're going to make you better by tomorrow even if we have to stay here all night!"
Like Tom, Alex knew all too well that once Max and Ethan decided something, there was no changing their minds. So, instead of putting up a fight, Alex did the most logical thing to do in his situation: he sighed.
Five hours later, Jack returned home from her job at her friend's new bookstore to find the kitchen in shambles and empty chicken soup cans strewn all over the place.
"Alex?" She called as she put her keys in the dish by the door and set her purse on the table next to it. "What have I told you about cooking with a fever unsupervised?" Actually, she was thrilled he actually got up off the couch and did something. The last few days had been downright depressing for both of them. Alex had never dealt well with being sick and tended to shut down completely for a full week or more if he couldn't get out of the house and run around. But that was simply out of the question when he had a fever and was puking every time he stood up. She was actually starting to get worried about him being so depressed this time.
She walked into the TV room to find Alex curled up under five blankets, asleep, with a large cooling strip stuck to his forehead –she ignored the fact that those strips were usually used for lower back pain and was way too big to be used on someone's face. The coffee table was covered in dirty dishes, mostly empty bowls of chicken soup and empty tea mugs and beside it sat a large paper bag over flowing with used tissues. Tom, Max and Ethan all looked over from the couch they had taken over and all shushed her in unison.
"We just got him to sleep." Max scolded in a whisper as if he were talking about a small child. Then all three turned back to the incredibly boring movie they had chosen to get poor Alex to fall asleep…with the help of Nyquil.
Alex shifted in his sleep and blearily opened his eyes, looking around. Everyone in the room held their breath for a moment, all watching him.
"No more soup…" He muttered before turning over and going back to sleep.
The next afternoon, Alex woke up to the phone ringing loudly. His head shot up from the pile of pillows and he forced his eyes open, seeing half the large cooling strip and slipped down over his eyes. He peeled it off before rolling off of the couch, wondering why he smelled like chicken. The phone continued to ring as he stumbled around, trying to find the cordless phone. He finally found it stuffed under the cushions of the other couch and quickly answered, hoping whoever was calling hadn't hung up yet.
"Hello?" He gasped out, straightening quickly from his crouching position on the floor.
"Finally!" Max exclaimed on the other end of the line. Someone in the background cheered –probably Ethan or Tom. "We were about to call Jack and have her go home and get you. Feeling better?"
Alex scowled as if the other boy could see him.
"What do you want, Max?" He sat back down on the couch and let himself tip over onto the pillows, closing his eyes, wishing to go back to sleep.
"We're just wondering how you're feeling today." He said casually with a very chipper tone to his voice. Ethan groaned in the background then snatched the phone.
"Look, we need to let coach know if you're playing or not in ten minutes. Are you well enough to play a match or not?" Alex had always liked how straight to the point Ethan was. If he needed something, he didn't mess around with frivolous things like manners or tact.
"Look guys," Alex started as he stood up. And then he realized he did feel better! Not perfect, but well enough to play a match without collapsing as long as he didn't overdo it. "Yeah, I'll do it. What time?" With Jack at work until eight, he wouldn't have to explain or try to sneak past her.
"Four at the practice pitch." Alex could hear the grin in his voice along with Tom and Max's cheers in the background. "Still remember where that is?"
"Funny." Alex said flatly. "I'll be there. But don't you have class? It's only one."
"As far as our teachers know, we all got diarrhea from some back Thai food last night. We've got a good five to ten minutes before they get suspicious."
Alex caught the ball on the top of his chest, bounced it forward and kicked it into the back of the net. He loved this feeling, being back on the pitch with his team, in his old jersey and retaking his place as the captain. It was like he never left. He'd been worried about it being awkward since he hadn't played with the whole team in over a year, but he'd played with all of them in the park at some point or another. He still knew all of their strengths, weaknesses and habits on the pitch and he could easily give direction accordingly. At first, he'd thought he'd just be there to fill a position and to stay out of the way, but immediately everything fell into the same rhythm and it all clicked.
He was back where he belonged with the people he had the most fun with; who could welcome him back no matter how many times he mysteriously disappeared.
It was the most fun he'd had in what seemed like years. His muscles were on fire, his breathing was labored and he was drenched in sweat and rain from head to toe. He'd been knocked down more than a few times by a particularly aggressive player on the other team and was scraped up, bruised and muddy from the rainfall that had started halfway through the game and he couldn't care less. He didn't care that he got a bloody nose from said aggressive player's elbow or that he would end up in bed for another week from the flu and the cold he got from playing three overtimes in the pouring rain.
It felt marvelous.
That night, at eight as usual, Jack came home. She shook out her umbrella then closed it up and leaned it in a corner. She tossed her keys into the dish and set her purse on the table next to it.
"Alex, I'm back!" She announced loudly, hoping that he would be a little happier and energetic today after his friends' visit. She took off her light jacked and draped it over a chair as she made her way into the house.
"I'm in the kitchen." Alex called back. He sounded completely worn out. For a second, Jack was worried, but then she saw his football duffle and muddy cleats in a pile in the hall outside of the kitchen.
"Why do I smell football?" She inquired. She put her hands on her hips and she leaned in the doorway to the kitchen. She almost laughed when she saw the teen sitting on a stool at the island, eating a large bowl of cereal.
His football jersey was still sweaty and wet, practically hanging off of his lean frame, his shin guards were pushed down around his ankles, bunched up with his muddy socks –his shins were the only clean part of him—there were streaks of mud running down his face, mixed with dried blood from his nose and mud caked in his hair, hiding his blond locks. He looked completely worn out as he lazily ate his cereal with a large serving spoon, staring straight ahead at the refrigerator.
"We're out of food." He said simply, an explanation as to why he was eating cereal for dinner.
"What the hell happened to you?" Jack exclaimed, coming towards him and looking him up and down. She then noticed the scrapes and cuts from falling on rock in the pitch. He was certainly a sight.
He turned to look at her between bites of cereal, a content smile on his face.
"The best day ever."
I know, corny ending. But it's one of those corny, pointless fics so I guess it fits.
Wow, this took me so long to actually type out…probably because I got completely distracted by one of those "Are You Dumb?" Quizzes….I couldn't help it! But apparently, I'm 56 Dumb…that really boosts my confidence…
– (1)For anyone that doesn't know German, this means Shit, although it's a pretty well known word pretty much anywhere…
Review and I'll give you a cookie!