Written for SpyFest 2018 Week 3
sort of inspired by Spectrum by Cardio Necrosis (Fandom: House M.D)
Alex had been sick for the two weeks, and even the slightest sound would have fired up a napping migraine lurking at the corner of his brain. In his miserable time lying on the bed wishing to be whisked away to fantasy land—or any land but reality land—a few friends came to visit; if he could call K-Unit and Fox friends, that was. Eagle made sure to keep his comments to a minimum, and the rest of K-Unit plus the older spy found pleasure taking over Alex's living room under the pretense of caring for the sick.
Tom came and gone, and sometimes Alex could feel his friend pausing by his door to check in on him but often just staying there, watching from afar as if they were two heartbroken couples of a sappy romance drama. In the middle of the night, he would hear the wooden planks creak outside his door, signaling his friend's unwanted presence again.
His first day back to humanity with the migraine forever locked, keys thrown away, in a secluded alcove was greeted by K-Unit sitting around his kitchen table sipping their tea like fine English 80's gentlemen.
"You look like crap," Fox remarked, "Want some tea?"
"No thanks." He remarked. A presence from behind him had him turning, "Hey Tom, morning. You stayed over?"
He hadn't expected his friend's features to twist into one of hurt, "Yeah."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
It was Sunday. And Alex was sure the loud slamming of the whirlwind called Tom out his door would have very likely woken his ten-block-radius neighbors. Confusion flashed across his face. He asked Tom a question…oh, it was probably a bit too rhetorical, but Tom had always been the first one to chirp answers for any stupid rhetorical questions.
"Need couple counseling?" Wolf's dry remark didn't help as Alex stalked to the kitchen, pulled open the freezer compartment, and let the cold air drift past his face, "How's your fever?"
"Should I ask my fever?" Alex muttered as he shut the door again, feeling almost dejected at the increase in temperature again, "So, no hostage crisis lately?"
"Cubby Cubby," Eagle stood up from his seat, pulled up another one, and ushered the formerly-sick spy into the chair, "You know we'd do anything to nurse you back to health. Even if it means calling off world crisis, we'd do it in a heartbeat."
"If 'nursing me back to health' is the equivalent of trashing my living room," A glance around the disarray that littered all over, covered only by a half-hearted attempt at a clean-up, was pointedly for K-Unit and Fox's benefit, "I'd say you have done an adept job."
"Yeah, I thought so too," Fox hummed in mock agreement, "So, as Wolf so graciously asked, how's your fever?"
"I think I will go back to school tomorrow."
"Better makeup with Tom before that," Snake suggested. Ah, always the serious one, "He's been around almost every day to take care of you. What happened?"
"I don't know," Alex shook his head, "Did I say something wrong? I mean, I barely spoke to him when I was asleep, and I have no idea how asking if he stayed overnight was a bad question to broach in the morning."
"Well," Fox heaved a great sad mocking sigh, "You have your charms, Alex. So, how's your project going?"
Instantly alarmed, Alex's eyes narrowed in suspicions and apprehension, "What project?"
"Physics: The Great Motion Picture," Fox brought his hands up in a wowing circle, "Yeah, I got that from Tom. It has something to do with a box. Well, on the bright side, the professor excused you from doing it, since you missed a whole two-weeks of school."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because Tom's not here."
"You're all ganging up on me because Tom got mad at me?"
Fox got up and went to the living room, gesturing with a sigh for someone else to explain the simplicity to Alex.
"Cubby Cubby," Eagle shook his head in a patronizing fashion, "Tom was nice to you. We're nice to Tom. You're not nice to Tom. We're not nice to you. It's a very simple equation."
"So because he was nice to me, you're nice to him?"
"Pretty much."
"Can I play the sick patient card?"
"You're past that already," Fox returned from his little errand and stuffed the home phone into Alex's hand, "There, call him, we'll offer you emotional support."
"I'm sure he'll get over it in a few hours or so," Alex refused, pushing the phone back.
"He seemed pretty upset."
"Aren't we all emotional at some stage?"
K-Unit drew back in mock surprise—even Wolf—at his blatant response, "You cannot rule out your best mate's sorrow as emotional distress or existential crisis, Cub."
A small shift by the window pulled his attention away from the pointless debate. He thought it was a bird. But then, the tuft shifted again. He'd found a Tom lurking beneath the window. Ha, Alex triumphantly got up from his seat and ambled to the half-opened window. Tom was probably playing a prank on him with his sad puppy eyes that had nearly led to a domestic debacle.
"Hey Tom," Alex greeted his friend with his best sincere voice, complete with regret and an apology, "I'm sorry if I offended you in any way. If it's anything I said, I will—"
The wounded look was back in Tom's eyes when his friend straightened from his previously-crouched position to stare him straight in the eyes. Oh no. What did he do now?
"Tom?"
"How did you know I was here?"
What?
"Your, um, hair moved."
Tom's gaze traveled upward to his tuft and attempted to brush it down. It stuck up regardless of his rather futile attempts, "I should cut it."
"But why? What's wrong?"
"It's…nothing."
Alex could only watch, with confusion beyond his expectation, as Tom hurriedly left the house, fleeing as if somehow Alex was a demon who had tore away his dreams. Fox joined him seconds later, watching the distant figure hop onto his bicycle and peddled away.
"You scared him away."
"I should just stop talking altogether."
"Mhm."
The next morning, Tom joined him in his normal cycling routine to school, much to Snake's apprehension. The medic proclaimed that the chance of Alex falling off his bike, crack his head, and really die, was high. However, Alex was sure he knew his hand-eye-coordination better than Snake would. Tom was still moody and a dark cloud of barely-manageable depression as they biked alongside each other.
The silence was oddly unsettling, and Alex wasn't talking about Tom. But rather, Tom's bike. His friend had oiled his usual squeaky chains, so much that Alex could see the light glancing off the shiny chains as Tom effortlessly rolled up the slight inclination. He wouldn't be surprised if it was somebody else, but Tom? Tom was somebody who wouldn't bother with oiling the chains until he found his chain stuck.
"You oiled your chains," Alex remarked, hoping to get a reaction out of it.
"I did."
Okay then. Guess they were back to square one of meeting a new friend.
"Tom, what's wrong? If it's something I did, just tell me."
"Do you think," Tom finally spoke again after they rolled up the hill and began the downward descend, "That I can aim well?"
Oh. So that was what Tom was worried about. Keeping his position as the captain of the school football team. Well, Tom was the best player Alex had ever met, and Alex certainly didn't think his friend's worry was on-point.
"A little more practice and you will be on the front of Match."
"What?"
Well, Alex took that back. Maybe it wasn't football Tom was worried about. Aim. Throw. Launch. What else could it possibly be? High jump? Zip Lining? Archery?
"Yeah, 'course you can aim," Alex decided to settle on the simplicity of an agreement to cheer Tom up.
"Am I about the same level as you?"
He could shoot a basketball from two meters away and still manage to completely miss the hoop by three. Tom, on the other hand, grew up on a basketball court, "Definitely better. Hey, whatever it is, it's gonna be okay. Others were born with a silver spoon in their mouth, you were born with a free sports uniform."
"Right…" Tom didn't sound so convinced, "Thanks mate."
They locked their bike next to each other's by the bike rack. It was almost unfortunate, for the first time, that he and Tom didn't have the same first period together. He had wanted to get to the bottom of it as soon as possible. It was a new low for Tom. After Tom's parents got divorced, his brother had moved back in to take over the position of a legal guardian. It was probably the best thing that had ever happened to Tom. But much like Ian, Jerry wasn't grounded by the role of guardianship. Almost half the weeks, he would be gone to pursue his typical need of adrenaline. Their summer vacation was a blast with Tom's brother.
"I'll see you at lunch," Alex promised.
"I forgot my wallet."
"You don't have a wallet, Tom."
"Right. So…you're paying?"
"I'm always paying."
"Not for the past two weeks, you weren't," Tom inserted snidely.
Alex rolled his eyes at the false bravado, "Yeah right. Don't think I didn't hear you when you snuck into my room to steal my wallet."
That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say for Tom's ebbing-upward mood fell right back down into the abyss. His friend's face turned crestfallen at his remark and Alex barely had time to utter a confused 'wait Tom' before his figure disappeared into the building.
Alex supposed Tom was a little bit on the sensitive side. No snarky remarks. No brutally-honest truths. He should also lay off a tad on their normal banter. Removing all those from the equation was basically re-introducing himself all over again to the insecure Tom he met years ago. Sighing at the abrupt turn, Alex cajoled himself into believing that tomorrow would be a new day.
However distant Tom seemed to have pulled away from him, his friend still came by that evening to enjoy their Chinese Thursday. Strangely, his friend hadn't use a door but instead, the second-floor window connected a little short distance away to the tall oak tree growing next to the house. If he hadn't heard the distinct irregular rustling of the leaves, he wouldn't have been noticed to Tom's entrance. Tom didn't seem to realize that Alex was standing by his darkened doorway, just about to go down the swirling staircases, for his best friend quietly made his way from the adjacent room to the stairs. As if he had just done something incriminating.
"Hey, Tom," Alex greeted with his best upbeat attitude and stepped into the dim light of the darkened second floor, "You should've used the door. Oh, don't tell me, you upset Buffy again."
Buffy was their neighbor's cat who, sometimes but more often than not, lay right in front of Alex's house, blocking his entrance. Somehow during Jack's reign, Buffy had decided since Jack wasn't inclined on letting a cat in the house, he was going to make friends with her by joining her to do her weekly shopping trip. Sometimes he would wait by the neighbor's fence, peeking suspiciously inside, but he found that lying on the ground was a more efficient way of his get-Jack-to-notice-me routine. Alex didn't have the heart to shoo him away after Jack, well, left.
"No. Buffy wasn't there…Did you know that I was gonna use the window?" Tom's tone was hesitant, and Alex could almost hear his friend begging him not to answer a certain way.
"Uh," Alex frowned carefully, "I heard the tree rustle so I did know. Why?"
"Oh."
"Oh?"
"Okay."
Shoulders slumped, Tom turned to trudge down the stairs. Alex could only shut his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose in distress. He was back to square one of dejected Tom. For the fifth time that day. His list of Things to Not Do was threatening to overtake his rather limited mental memory storage.
He was adding 'Don't tell Tom you know things' to the list.
"Hey Manchester," Eagle grinned in greeting as Tom trudged down the stairs, "Evading Buffy the Vampire Slayer again?"
Tom rolled his eyes. From atop the stairs, Alex could only frown in confusion at Tom's next few words, "Yeah, he was out in the front. I swear, one day I'm gonna actually trip over him."
"Buffy won't budge just because he caused physical pain to someone else," Fox pointed out as he handed Tom a carton with a fork sticking out of it, "Unless we cart him off to an asylum far far away."
"Hmm. What 'bout Coruscant?"
"Buffy the Jedi Initiate. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" Fox grinned then his eyes traveled upward to Alex leaning against the railing, "Hey Al, wanna join us? Or are you gonna stand there the whole night staring?"
At the moment, Alex preferred the latter. Tom had just straight-out lied to him, or to Eagle, but either way, he had lied. Tom met his eyes from downstairs, a glint of guilt and apology creeping in but Alex wasn't sure what exactly it was for.
Well. Chinese Thursday was important.
He sighed and descended the stairs, "If you touch my fried chicken, Fox, I swear to God I'm shoving Buffy to the back of the truck, ship him off to an asylum, and frame you when the neighbor asks."
Scratch. Scribble. A loud curse. Crumble
"Hey, Cub," Wolf poked his head into his room, narrowly missing the crumpled ball of paper Alex launched his way without looking, "We're going out for paintball. You coming?"
"Stupid professor made me do that damn physics project. Goddamn it!" He supposed he wasn't angry at Wolf, but he meant the dagger glare he shot Wolf, "Go away. Get out. Bye. Don't dangle the word 'paintball' in front of my face or I'm gonna punch you."
"Someone's not in a good mood," Wolf ducked out, but Tom poked his head in tentatively. Alex stopped his pulled-back arm before he could launch the piece of paper, "You need my help?"
"I'm good," Alex grumbled as he lined up his ruler perfectly with the edge of the paper and attempted to draw the straight line. Just how in the world could people draw a straight line with nothing but a ruler? "The professor said he's gonna compare your project and mine side by side just to make sure."
"Ah," Tom grinned then pursed his lips, "You sure you can't spare a second to come with us?"
"While I can, of course, win the whole damn game in a second, I can't spare a single millisecond," His pencil snapped and Alex nearly howled in rage, "Oh for heaven's sake, bye Tom! I will see you at dinner."
"Okay okay, mate," Tom slyly rapped on the wall, "I will call you when we get there. You can be on my side."
"Bye Tom!"
"You sure you're not coming?" Fox.
"Get out, Fox."
"Cubby-kin, you sure?"
"You too, Eagle."
"You know, it's—"
"Shut the door behind you, Snake."
Alex slumped back in silence as the medic complied, the wooden barrier clicked softly shut. Their joyful laughter echoed sickly in his stomach as the front door closed and he knew if he rushed to his window, he would be able to see them with their ridiculous mocking grin at his misfortune.
He pushed his pencil into the mechanical sharpener and watched it shuddered where it stood, the sound filling the closed room. The tip came out sharp, sharper than he had wanted, moments later. He was distracted. It was almost frustrating, the mystery that was Tom. Tom was his best friend, and best friends, well, they were like open books to each other. While Alex wouldn't share all the horrible places he went during his missions, he didn't think that there was anything in Tom's life that his friend hadn't share with him. Knowing Tom, even a simple rock he met on the way back from school would be the hot topic of the day.
His mind was going into overdrive because—perhaps it was just him but—for a moment, he was sure Tom didn't want him to go. Well. Okay. Adding 'When Tom asks if you want to go out, say you can't no matter what' to the list.
Though Alex had the nagging thought that by the end of Tom's weird episode, their friendship would have evolved to a new stage of weirdness. He better solved the mystery before they could adapt to this strain; he preferred the old Tom much more than the new Tom thank you very much. In the meantime, it was back to drawing straight lines for him.
When Tom and the bunch returned from their fun afternoon, a completely-jealousy-free Alex stalked down the stairs to greet them. Wolf, being the ever gracious house guest, dumped his jacket on him with a small clap of 'How's your straight line?'. The young spy sent the jacket back to its owner, hitting its mark squarely.
Tom seemed happy, Alex noted as he dodged the airborne jacket, the moody cloud already dispersed and absently, he hoped it hadn't moved on to another unfortunate guest of the Paintball. Perhaps his friend just needed some time outside to deal with the bout of depression.
Perhaps it was just one's typical existential crisis.
"So," Alex dragged Fox aside before the man could duck into the kitchen to raid his supplies again, "How's Tom?"
"Well," Fox clamped his hands down on his shoulder with mock seriousness, "He seems happy, Alex. Truly happy. Free from the tormenting ghosts that haunted him every second of his life. It's hard to break this to you, Al, but maybe you two need some time apart. Every relation needs the separation to understand—"
"How's he?" Alex rolled his eyes, "No sad doe eyes? Stiff walking?"
"You know," The older spy dragged the topic of their conversation over by his collar and slang an arm around Tom's shoulder, "Manchester here might actually make a good spy. He crept up and scared the hell out of Eagle."
"Did not!" The sharpshooter yelled in defiance from the kitchen.
"One damn thing at a time, Eagle," Alex's eyes narrowed on the bowls and plates Eagle was balancing in his left hand, his right fumbling for utensils, "If you drop them, I swear it's coming out of your pocket."
"Control freak."
"Al likes his plates, they were a gift," Tom hollered back with a grin, escaping Fox's clutch to help out Eagle, "Here, let me…"
Fox arched an eyebrow at Alex and jerked his head toward the direction Tom had gone to, "See, he's fine. No moody Tom. No sad puppy doe eye Tom. Completely cured."
Okay then. Adding 'Compliment him on his stealth and agility' to the To-Do list For Tom. First entry, surprise surprise.
"And what's the cure? Happiness?"
"As I have said, separation from you. The quality of…" However, Fox paused and went tangent before he could finish the sentence, "Hold on, there was something."
"Magical stones? Potions? The Breath of Life?"
"You're describing CPR. It's not CPR," Fox shut him up before he could interrupt again, "No, about Tom. He was the referee for one of our games since we had five people. He added the points to Wolf's team instead of mine and when Eagle pointed it out, he got kind of…"
"Sad Tom mode?"
"Yeah, though I suppose we didn't tell him Wolf was the orange team and we were green. Just thought our flags were self-evident."
"Tom doesn't get sad over small things like that."
"Well," Fox arched an eyebrow, "He did."
"I don't know, Fox," Alex ran a hand through his hair with a sigh, "I've never seen him this depressed before except when he…" His eyes narrowed as memories flood through his alcoves, "Unless…"
"What?"
Alex leaned in upon making sure that his friend was still being preoccupied in the kitchen by Eagle's need to display his sense of balance, "Tom used to be bullied. Before I really got to know him, he was a little like this too."
"You think he's being bullied again?" The older spy clearly didn't like the thought of that and he looked awfully closed to stomping to the school to demand justice, "I thought kids have more common sense than that, being goddamn eighteen and all."
"Tom's on the small side. Did you see him, I don't know, wincing when he moved? Maybe he was hurt," Alex asked. He didn't like the idea of his best friend falling back into the pit any more than Fox did. Tom hadn't been like this before Alex had taken two weeks off from school due to his sickness. A lot of things could happen in two weeks—he learned that the hard way—and things, well, they escalated like wildfires unless someone was there to stomp them out.
"He seemed fine," Another glance spared Tom's way, "Besides when you were out sick, we went to watch his games and practices. If he's hurt, he wouldn't have gotten that streak of victories, and accomplish his typical football stunts that I'd roll my ankles for doing."
"There's a reason why he's the Captain of the football team and you are," Alex gave Fox a mock disdainful once-over, "Well, you're just a spy."
"Right back at you," A snort then Fox fell serious again, "So how're you gonna deal with this?"
"What I did," Alex rolled his eyes, "Stalk Tom, find the big bad bullies, and give them a piece of my mind."
"Tom's not thirteen anymore," However, the older spy had other ideas, "Why don't you just ask him about it?"
Fox clearly didn't know Tom. Tom was a ray of sunshine, and one simply wouldn't go up to the sunshine and tell them to deal with their problems. He told Fox as much. Those who hurt the most smiled the brightest, and he had seen Tom trudge through the start of his parents' divorce without seemingly a second glance. But Alex knew, as much as Alex depended on Tom being the only civilian whom he could fall back into place with after missions, Tom relied on Alex doing exactly that. Tom needed someone to cheer up, to take his mind off things that he didn't want to talk about, and Alex needed someone to be there to pick him up and talk about everything meaningless in the world.
Because caught between the world of espionage and the need for normality, Alex had only Tom. And sometimes, he clutched to him as if he was a lighthouse on the ocean—and not another human being needing the same comfort.
"I will deal with it," Alex set his jaw.
Fox clapped him on the shoulder once, "Just don't send them up to the infirmary."
His first week of Project: Stalk Tom returned unfruitfully. Even though their classes differed by three, he insisted on walking Tom all the way to his class before dashing down the halls and stairs to reach his. Though he could see that Tom found it all very much amusing, and it was probably the only plus side of the whole week. They ate together, they biked together, they spent the break together, and they would hole up in the library after school together that one Friday when Alex's teacher made him redo his Russian work, saying that his letter to his pen pal—she actually read one of them earlier that day—was not school appropriate. Well, she certainly hadn't seen his pen pal's.
"So," A mildly-frustrated Alex jumped as Tom appeared beside him, dropping the books loudly on the table and grinned at Alex's reaction without remorse, "What do you think about Jake?"
"Jake your second-in-command football Jake?"
"Yeah."
"He's, uh, nice, I suppose. What 'bout him?"
"Think he'd make a good Robin?"
Alex drew back in surprise, "Robin? Oh shit, are we having a play in English?"
"Nope, I'm just picking out a sidekick."
"For what? For your batman stunts?"
"Oh please, you're just jealous," Tom rolled his eyes, "You think you're Batman, but your Robin has just quit."
"I had a Robin?"
"Yeah, me. Your Robin was me," Wiggling his fingers in reprimands and total seriousness, Tom promoted himself, "And now, your Robin decide it's time to quit and become a batman."
"Don't talk about yourself in third-person, it creeps me out."
"So do you think Jake has the potential to become a Robin?"
"Eh," Alex dismissed it with a flap of his hand, "He's more like a Jake Doe."
"You mean John Doe."
"It's not a John Doe if you know their name."
"Jake has a last name. And it's not Doe."
"But without the 'Doe' in the name, it loses the point. There's a reason why I said Jake Doe and not Jake Robin."
"That's not how Robins work, Al."
"What's the friction of the wooden table?"
"What?"
"Last physics question of the day. A little help?"
"God, you're unbelievable."
"That's how I maintain my Batman status."
Week two of Stalking Tom turned into a spiral downward. Well, it really began on Saturday, when Tom surprisingly said he was going out to the mall with friends. Now, Alex had no trouble staying at home and sticking to the TV for he had thought Tom was still trying to convince Jake into accepting the role of Robin. He offered to go with him but Tom had winked and told him to go find his own girl.
Oh. Tom got a girlfriend.
"What?" Eagle choked on his tea as Alex slipped into his seat by the kitchen that noon after getting a text from Tom saying he wasn't joining them for lunch, "Manchester got a girl?"
"Weren't you on Project: Stalk Tom?" Leaning away from Eagle's mess, Fox remarked to Alex as he handed the sharpshooter a napkin, "Tom can't just get a girlfriend in one day."
"I followed him," Alex stabbed his pork, innately pleased at the fully-cooked state, "But there was no girl, okay? Unless they met in the men restroom, I've never seen that girl talking to Tom. Not even once."
"But you know her?"
Alex arched an eyebrow, "She goes to my school. I've seen her around. She's part of that Popular Girl Gossip group, first day back to school I literally can't go anywhere without her giving me that I-demand-your-gossip glare."
"Aha," Fox grinned, "I smell a love triangle."
"Your nose deceived you."
"She clearly likes you, girls' got a weird way of showing their love. But Tom likes her enough to skip Wolf's Pork Saturday. You know he never skips when Wolf cooks."
"Tom can have her. I will tell her they're meant for each other."
"Thinks she can handle the hard rejection?"
"She doesn't like me. She likes my espionage gossips that I've never told anyone but Tom."
"Maybe," Wolf spoke up in between bites, "She's using Tom to get you."
"This isn't war politics," Alex dismissed the claim.
"It's worse. High school romance is the tenth on the list of cause of death."
"That's suicide."
"High school romance, suicide, to-may-to, to-mah-to."
"No one says to-may-to. It's always been to-mah-to."
Tom's new girlfriend's name was Circe, and when she swirled, her ponytail would often smack the person next to her square in the face. And the amount of make-up on her face would surely taint the ocean a shade of beige. Well, if Tom liked her, Alex wasn't going to disrupt his friend's love life by voicing his opinions.
Sunday afternoon was when Tom brought Circe over for a nice meet-my-girlfriend introduction. She seemed slightly flustered by the combination of three soldiers and two spies living under one roof but Tom was quick to reassure her that it wasn't any drug cartel and that Fox and the bunch were just friends spending a few weeks with them. Eagle, ever the matchmaker or so he claimed, got cool drinks ready for them and proceeded to delve deeper into the new girlfriend's mysterious entry into Tom's life.
"So Circe," Eagle winked as he sat down on the opposite of the two, "What do you think about our Tom?"
"I'm not anybody's Tom," His friend inserted.
"I like Tom," Circe grabbed his blushing friend by his hand and grinned, her auburn hair sweeping across both of their shoulders, "He's really funny."
"Mhm," Alex arched eyebrow and Tom shot him a 'shut up' glare, "Tom's really funny sometimes."
Fox, leaning against the armrest of Alex's chair, kicked him. It was subtle enough that only Snake sitting near noticed but hard enough that had Alex barely able to hide the wince of pain. Fox's got a sharp heel, dammit.
They talked. Well, really, Eagle talked, Circe answered, Tom blushed scarlet, and the rest of the occupants just wanted to laugh. In the end, Tom offered to show Circe around the house and Alex told them that his room was off-limits. He hoped the house introduction wasn't going to be the preamble to Circe moving in. It was his house, for heaven's sake, why was Tom using his house as a glamorous show-off?
Monday was when he ran into Circe in the library, Tom went to use the restroom moments ago and had yet to come back. He told her as much as she slid into the seat opposite of him, thankfully respecting his need for personal space.
"It's okay, I'm here to talk to you actually," She said, and a wave of saccharine fragrance assaulted him. Alex didn't like her perfume.
"Tom's a nice guy," Alex said, "He's the captain of the football team, so don't underestimate him. He's sweet, too, and quite forgiving. And he's definitely in love with you."
"And you?"
Alex blinked in surprise, "What?"
"Do you like me?" A sick twirl of her ponytail.
"Tom's your boyfriend."
"He won't know."
"And I don't like you, sorry," Alex nearly rolled his eyes at her wink. Sounded like Tom's relationship was going south before it even set sail. Then he winced. He probably shouldn't have thought that. Guilt karma and all that, "If you don't like Tom, don't play with his feelings."
"I can break up with him if you wanna…" She pulled back as Tom emerged, a goofy grin on his face as he saw Circe's happy face, "Hey Tom!"
"Circe," Tom leaned in to give her a peck on her cheek, "What're you doing here?"
"I was thinking we can try out the new cafe today," Circe smiled, her previous fling completely pushed to a dark dark dark corner, "Alex can come with us."
"I've got my Russian letter," Alex grinned in refusal, "You guys have a great time. And Tom?"
Amid packing up, his friend replied, "What?"
"Don't take my wallet."
So two minutes later, the one-sided love couple happily left the library, taking Circe's perfume with them in a welcoming whoosh. Now, it wasn't that Alex didn't like Circe—though he really didn't, he had to say it as a precaution—it was that Tom was a very fragile human being. Yes, his best mate could sit through a whole day of his parents throwing porcelains over his head or watch the world slowly disintegrate into ashes, but he could bawl over the tiniest incident with his crush.
So far, Tom had had sixteen crushes in the short span of his senior year. Alex wasn't surprised, Tom could see the word 'potential girlfriend' in every girl he talked to. And so far, Alex had been the one staying up late with a heartbroken Tom to binge watch Teletubbies reruns. Ah, the good times. On the bright side, it seemed as if Tom's relationship with Circe was doom to fail.
Two days later into week two of Project: Stalk Tom, his friend experienced his seventeenth heartbreak. Luckily, Wolf and the others were there to pick up the pieces as a dejected and depressed Tom stumbled into Alex's house late evening and demanded Teletubbies. Though Alex supposed he should be glad, because heartbroken Tom was better than moody Tom. But Tom was sulking. He liked her. Tom liked everyone.
"I want to be a spy," Then one afternoon following the break-up, Tom declared, "I've been practicing, trying to sneak up onto you, but damn, you're too perceptive."
Wait.
So that was why Tom got all sad-looking when Alex found him sneaking around?
"Just because you're good at tiptoeing doesn't mean you're meant to be a spy."
"Al, do you think I can pass the entrance exam?" Pushing past, Tom ignored his comment.
"Uh," Alex took a sip of his drink, "I didn't take an entrance exam. I was on the fast track."
"Right."
Deciding to humor his friend with his new fantasy, Alex turned, "So why a spy?
"Well," His friend was carefully folding his napkin up, "It sounds fun."
"Trust me, it's not."
"You get to meet new people," Tom gestured at K-Unit lounging leisurely in the living room, their feet propped up on Alex's precious coffee table, "Make new friends. It gets lonely by myself sometimes."
It was as if Tom was serious.
"Hey," Alex tried, "You've got a whole football team as buddies. If we're all out doing our freaky espionage thing, you can call them up and hang out."
"Yeah, but it's not the same," His friend argued, "It used to be just us, Al. We did everything: conquer territories, wage war on Buffy…We used to rule the world. Now, it's you and Mr. Espionage and Tom. You know I get jealous in a triangular relationship."
"You're my best friend. Mr. Espionage is my distant acquaintance. Kinda like your aunt, you have to visit, even if you don't want to."
"God, I hate those little watermelon candies she gave me."
"I know."
The situation wasn't solved. They fell back into silence, each to their own drink. It sent pangs of guilt throughout his heart at his friend's blatant confession. Ever since the whole spy-business had started, he had been away from home more times than he could count with his limbs. But Tom? Tom was always there, even without seasonal greetings when he was abroad.
It was Thursday after school, on the roof, that everything blew up in their face. Alex and Tom were sitting on the tippy edge—him trying to counsel Tom about Circe and Tom just being his moody heartbreak self—Circe joined them, choosing to plop down next to Alex.
"Hey," She said.
"Go away," Tom muttered, "Just go away."
"Okay," Circe smiled, then grabbed Alex and pushed their lips together for a brief kiss, "I'll see you later, Alex."
Stunned, Alex could only sit as Tom gawked in shock, then anger, and then they were both on their feet yelling.
"Goddammit Alex!" His friend wasn't yelling, he was roaring, as Alex wiped his lips clear of the sickening taste of lipstick, "She was my girlfriend! And, let me guess, you two have been together since even before me and decided to prank me! Yeah, that's right, isn't it? Look at your face, you're pretending like it wasn't how it is!"
"Look, Tom—" Alex tried. He had never seen Tom gotten this upset over a girl.
"Don't 'Look, Tom' me," His friend snapped, "You must be so goddamn happy right now. Oh look, it's a moody Tom. How fun!" He mocked, "You know I hate it when people break up with me, and you still decided to screw me over! For what? So you can have your little 'welcome home from a bad mission' laughter? Is that all I am to you? Just some stupid guy who wants to be funny?"
"Tom, you're my friend."
"Friend?" Bitterness was in his tone. When had they gotten this bad? "Hah! I was the bullied kid, I was the loser, and you came along like some heroic knight rescuing me, some twisted damsel in distress, and we became what you called friends. We were never friends, Alex. I'm just nothing more than some cutesy little Boy Scout Friendship badge you have hanging around. You don't even need me."
"I do," Alex protested, "I—"
Tom wasn't done, "Yeah, I'm the captain of the soccer team, I got teammates, and I got classmates. I'm just that kid who makes stupid jokes and talks about stupid things, and you're that school gossip poster boy with a dark backstory. I ain't got no other friends beside you, Alex, and you? Just two months ago you act like you don't need any friends."
Alex sighed, running a hand through his hair in distress, "Tom, that was just once. I had to distance myself from you because I thought…I thought…" I thought it would be better if we weren't friends.
"You thought what? You thought somehow Lily would come back to life if you distance yourself away from me? You thought people you get close to would die? What kind of shit is that?" Tom was swearing, his posture all worked up and the pained glint in his eyes was enough to deflect Alex's gaze, "You're just afraid. You're always thinking about yourself, Al, and never about others. About time you open your goddamn eyes and really see this world. It isn't all about you."
"You are my friend, Tom," He sighed again, not sure what else to say to rein back the runaway train, "I…I was grieving. You know I'd come to your rescue anytime you need, you know that. And you're, you're my only friend too."
"You say that, yet you have your soldier buddies all clustered around you like you're some sort of child protege."
"They're different."
"How're they different? You don't tell me what's bothering you after you return from your missions, and the only people you do tell is Fox. Fox the spy, Fox the amazing ex-soldier, Fox the big brother… I'm not Fox, I can't be Fox, and if we hide secrets from each other, we aren't what we once were. I'm just Tom that little kid you made friend with years ago on some dark playground bawling his eyes out. We're just not what we once were, and I hate it."
He wanted to say I'm sorry, but all it came out was "Tom..."
They fell in silence. Tom's raw pent-up anguish was unraveling, and so was their friendship. There was only so much emotion anyone could keep inside of them before the floodgate break open and smash everything in its path. Alex needed Tom to know that their friendship was the one thing that kept him sane in his years of espionage. It was the thought of going back home, home, to a waiting friend that kept him pushing. Because he needed Tom. They needed each other. And Alex couldn't find the words to say it. He had never been good at words.
Then Tom sighed in defeat.
"Forget it, Al. Just…forget it."
The soft gentle words took the air out of him like the sword took the life out of the knight.
Tom didn't drop by that night for Chinese Thursday, and Alex didn't join K-Unit before the TV. They were watching Mission Impossible. Tom liked that movie. Tom liked the thought of espionage, no matter how hard Alex tried to persuade him otherwise. Though now that he thought about it, he hadn't try very hard. He didn't tell Tom about the delirious trance post captive, the shock of stumbling upon the trembling six-years-old in the cell, the feeling of a bullet ripping through his leg, and the desperate need to clutch to a lifeline or he would be swept away. Because Tom was a civilian, he was Alex's lifeline, he was Alex's friend, and Alex just needed Tom to be okay.
"Alex, can we talk?"
"What do you want, Circe?"
"I'm sorry, 'bout what I did," She didn't sound sorry, but Alex was too tired to tell her that, "I…I like you, okay? And I'm sorry that I roped Tom into this. I just wanted to get close to you."
"And you still aren't."
"I know."
"Please go away."
They were in the hallway, and Tom rounded the corner before them. It was almost comical to see the emotions flickered and features rearranging numerous times before settling into one of placid calm. And perhaps of undisguised surprise. He turned to leave, but not before Alex caught sight of his black eye.
"Tom!"
He ran.
Alex ran after him.
Tom played football, and Alex was a spy trained by Ian. By the field, Alex tackled his friend onto the ground, and the momentum sending him rolling a few meters off. His shoulder hurt, but Tom was hurting more.
Lying on the grass field looking up at the sky, Tom was crying.
"Tom?"
He was shaking. Alex crawled over.
"Tom. What happened to your eye?"
Idiot. Of course, he knew what happened. It was written all over his face and his stomach beneath the shirt that had ridden up in their fall in colorful bruises.
"Who did this?"
Alex didn't like it when Tom cried. Tom wasn't supposed to cry, he was supposed to be the one person in his life who wouldn't cry.
"It was Jake and…the others…I…"
Jake and the others. Jake and the rest of the football team.
Funny how fast 'friends' change. How many Robins has Batman gone through?
The grass still smelled faintly of rain and the air above was still moist. He could taste it on his lips, and each breath he inhaled seemed like a breath too many. It rained three hours ago, and it was going to rain soon. It was two in the afternoon, and the field was empty. So he plopped down next to Tom, head to head, and listened to his friend's hiccuping breaths.
It was okay. Tom's going to be okay.
"I will find them," Alex promised softly, "And I'll talk to them."
Alex didn't talk to bullies, he dealt with them. That was how the world of brawn worked.
"It's gonna be okay," It's always been Tom who uttered that phrase, and this time, it felt right coming from Alex, " I'll deal with it."
Because the truth was, they were the only constant in each other's equation. And it hurt.
Just as he was about to get up, Tom grabbed him by his wrist, nearly sending him tumbling back onto the wet ground, "I'm okay, Al. Please."
"Then tell me what's bothering you. The whole truth."
The grip grew lax and fell away. It stung. Tom was still hesitant.
Well, the truth could wait. The bullies couldn't. He didn't work well with words. He worked well with his instincts. It was his job, after all, to rescue Tom in distress. That was the best thing he could offer in return for Tom's friendship.
"Al…" Glistering blues found the dim browns, "They were just mad."
"About what?"
"I…we had a match. I passed to the opposite team. We lost the game."
"It was just a game, Tom," Alex plopped back down, "Someone wins, the other's gotta lose."
"It was the game for the regional championship."
It must have hurt, to all of them, but…as Tom painfully shut his bruised eye, Alex couldn't help but balled his fists. It wasn't right. Tom missed it, so what? People could only take so much stress before everything exploded in their face.
"Al…Please don't do anything."
"Why?"
"They're my friends."
"Then I'm glad I'm not your friend anymore—because this, this isn't what I would ever do, Tom."
Tom was crying again when Alex left. Each step was like a needle to his heart, and each breath that he caught escaping was a shudder. Because goddammit, it hurt, and they were both hurting because neither of them was paying attention—but both of them could hear the repercussion in every inhale.
Alex found Jake in the locker room.
"Hey man—"
He wasn't aware he'd moved, but he did because the next moment his curled hand was stinging and Jake was suddenly on the floor, a hand on his jawline and his green eyes stunned in pain and surprise.
It hurt.
He felt good.
Then they were grappling on the ground, knocking into the benches, and cracking their head against the metal lockers. Thump. For a moment, Jake's brutal strength had him pinned down and he jerked his head to the side as the fist came down. He kicked, then they were the other way around. It was funny because his instincts were crying out to stop, because it would get him killed, but he couldn't stop. It felt right. It was so wrong that it was right.
He wasn't going to lose a friend this way.
A sharp kick to his abdomen snapped him back, and he saw flashes. Stars, others called it. Forgotten memories, he called it. They were skiing. Skydiving. Swimming. Reading. Sleeping. Tom was laughing, and that was all he needed. He lashed out. Tom had said he kicked like a little girl. He did. Jake caught his foot in a grip and twisted him over. The cold marble floor was pressed against his face but adrenaline was still pumping, urging, egging him on.
He knew if he reached out, he would find it. He just hadn't been reaching.
Alex twisted, his elbow catching the co-captain of football squarely on the jaw. He made sure to miss the neck, and for a moment, he was sure it had taken everything he had to pull it away from the neck. This wasn't espionage. This was high school. Fox was right, it was worse. Jake rolled away, hollering in pain as he clutched his face in his hands, his head bowed as he scooted to lean against the cold metal.
The wooden bench dug into his back. They were alone in the locker room. Then they weren't.
"Tom's a fucking colorblind!" Jake shouted in anger as the coaches hauled him up to his feet, his head shaking like a roaring lion and blood splattered on the battlefield, "He lost the game because he was colorblind! He fucking couldn't tell orange from green!"
Tom was colorblind?
He could care less.
"Next time you so much as breath in his direction, it'd be the last thing you—"
"Mr. Rider!"
Curt voices assaulted him. He wanted to get up but it hurt so much.
It felt good. A maniac grin made its way past his bloody split lips, and it sounded as if he was gurgling on blood. He supposed it didn't matter because he did a good thing. He still had Tom. It was good. He leaned forward and spat out the content in his mouth moments before he could choke on them, his throat refusing to swallow. He thought it was saliva. It was blood.
"Call an ambulance for both of them!"
"Al!" Someone was yelling.
It sounded like Tom, and the name made its way past his groggy state of delusions. Butterflies flapped their wings before him, and his ears were ringing. Everything was tilting, and for a moment, he wondered if he was falling into Wonderland. It didn't sound so bad, because he knew that no matter what happened down there, when he crawled back out of that hole, there would be people waiting for him to come home.
Home.
Tom.
Fox.
Wolf.
Snake.
Eagle.
Home.
Hello? Who's this?
Hey, um, Tom, it's Al.
Oh. Hey.
So…I'm coming home.
Well, we're not picking you up because I'm busy.
Busy? Doing what? Finding another Robin?
Nope, we're playing guess the color. Well, Wolf's betting I can't guess the right color. He's losing big.
Can you tell orange from green now?
…Sometimes.
It rained this morning, didn't it?
Mhm. I'm watching the rainbow right now…
Tom…
It's gonna be okay, Al. We're gonna be okay.
Fin
Oooh okay, so I might have gotten a little bit (just a little) off-topic from the prompt. But seriously, nothing I planned ever turn out as I planned. At this point in writing fanfics, I've given my hands and mind the free rein to do whatever.
Edit: I suppose this story was a mash-up of many themes at the same time, not just the prompt, so it's kind of confusing on the first read. Lemme just give it a quick explain (again XD):
Yes, Tom's colorblind. And when Alex was out sick, his football team found out about his colorblindness (Protanopia) and he was verbally abused by his teammates. That made Tom realize just how much he depends on Alex as being his friend, his only friend and he was subtly jealous when K-Unit and Fox keep dropping by to visit Al.
Tom believed that their relationship changed because of the whole espionage business, and he thought that by becoming a spy, he could be the 'cool kid', make new friends like Alex had done with K-Unit, and finally feel more belonged somewhere. Which was why Tom got all sad and moody when Alex failed his every attempt at being stealthy (creeping up on Alex in the morning, stealing Alex's wallet when he's asleep, climbing through the second-floor window, etc).
In a sense, Tom was jealous of Alex's friendships, forcing him to invest in other possible chance of friendships in case after high school there would be no one left to stay with him.
So instead of this being a 'you're not cut out to be a spy' fic, it's more like a take on Alex and Tom's friendship and how it had changed and the repercussions.