Woot! Well. What the frick do I think I'm doing? The movie was months ago. XD

So, The LEGO Ninjago Movie. It was . . . eh, it could have been better. Some of the biggest gripes I've heard (especially from people who weren't already Ninjago fans) is that the ninja besides Lloyd didn't get much characterization, and that there wasn't enough backstory.

On the bright side, though, that means we all get to write backstory!

So here I go.

When the final bell rang, Jay didn't even stop to pick up his backpack. He'd been needing the restroom for well over an hour by now, but what was he supposed to do, raise his hand and ask to be excused? In front of everyone? And have all these kids look at him as he stood up and walked out?

Oh gosh, no.

Afterwards he lurked around in the hallway, too embarrassed to go back into the classroom after such a hasty exit. He might not have minded so much if he knew everyone in the class, but this was only the first week of grade nine. He didn't know a living soul. Or, well, he knew everyone's names, and had already ranked his entire homeroom from most to least threatening, but he hadn't actually—you know. Talked.

When the last student trotted out of the classroom, Jay breathed a sigh of relief and slipped in. Then he froze in the doorway. Ms. Minchem was still there tidying up, of course—that was fine. But not all the students had left after all. The one called Cole—the third most threatening on Jay's mental list—was still kicked back in his desk, lazily putting his pencils away. His head bobbed to some hidden beat coming through his giant red headphones.

Jay hesitated. Ms. Minchem was here. Nothing too bad could happen, right? And Cole had his back turned and his headphones on. No big deal.

After a moment Jay eased into the room and began to very softly pack up his things. He was good at being inconspicuous. Ms. Minchem glanced over and gave him a smile, and he beamed back.

He was almost done when the silence suddenly gave way to a deafening blast of music. It was a heavy rock piece whose chorus involved . . . um . . . some very unkind names. And it seemed to be coming from Cole's phone. What kind of a ringtone was that?

Cole had jumped just as violently as Jay, his feet swinging down from the desktop. He fumbled for his phone, clawing off his headphones with his other hand, a half-finished oath still caught on his lips. After he grabbed the phone, for a second he just stared at it, letting it keep blasting profanities and tortured guitar licks. Then he glanced up at Ms. Minchem, ducked his head, and answered.

"Hello?"

Jay finally remembered to close his mouth, but he still couldn't stop staring at the back of Cole's head. He'd never heard a less enthusiastic greeting. He'd caught on right away that Cole was the frosty sort, definitely a member of the "goth" subspecies, but right then Cole hadn't sounded frosty at all. He just sounded . . . really unhappy. Scared? Nooooo, he couldn't be scared. The guy had muscles like a tire mascot.

"Yes. I know." Cole pinched the bridge of his nose. Jay slowly, carefully resumed putting his stuff away. "No, I—no! I was in class, Dad!"

Jay froze by the doorway, startled. That was Cole's dad calling?

He looked again at Cole. The teen was hunched over his desk now, his free hand plastered to his forehead. His eyes were shut and his lower lip was sucked in, while the phone babbled some gibberish in his ear. How loud was the person on the other end of the line talking? They sounded . . . weird. Their voice seemed to slide up and down in pitch, like they were insane.

"No, Dad, I'm not. You know I can't answer the phone while I'm in school, it's not al—look, no. No! I'm going to study, all right? Look, I have to!" Cole sucked in his breath through his teeth. "Just stop."

He sounded almost pleading. Jay stayed by the door, motionless. All his wiser instincts were yelling to leave and pretend he'd seen nothing, and yet here he stood.

"Yeah. All right. Okay, Dad. I will, Dad. I know, Dad." Cole held the phone away, stabbed the "end call" button, and muttered a final line that made Jay cringe. Wow.

Expression dark, Cole started putting his phone away. Then he looked up and saw Ms. Minchem standing over him. For a second he stared up at her. Then his gaze dropped to the floor.

"Cole," she said. "You know we can't have strong language. Not from our devices, and especially not from our students."

Cole said nothing. Which Jay found surprising—Cole had never been short on snark.

"Do I need to give you detention?" said Ms. Minchem.

"I have to go to work." Cole didn't sound humble, exactly, but his voice was quiet and earnest. He was already edging out of his seat, as if that would convince Ms. Minchem he was already pardoned.

"Where do you work?" said Ms. Minchem. Cole's shoulders slumped, and Jay's heart bled on his behalf. She was gonna call his boss and tell him Cole couldn't come in today.

"Coraco's," mumbled Cole. He squirmed, looking up to meet Ms. Minchem's eyes. "I have to go, I'll get fired. I'll—I'll change my ringtone."

For a moment Ms. Minchem looked down at him tiredly. At last she sighed.

"Okay, Cole. You do that, all right? You can go."

Cole nodded tersely, already snatching for his backpack. As he turned to plow out of the room, he came face-to-face with Jay. The freckled teen froze, momentarily convinced this was his final living moment. He'd seen and heard way too much. There was no way a tough guy like Cole would let him live after witnessing . . . all of that.

But nothing happened. For a second Cole just looked at him, wearing the strangest expression. Then he brushed past and barged out the door.

Jay stared after him for a moment. Then he turned to give Ms. Minchem a weak, relieved smile.

"That was . . . weird, huh?"

Ms. Minchem shook her head, looking distant.

"He goes through enough," she said, mostly to herself. Jay glanced back at the door, thinking about the angry, slurring voice over the phone, the look on Cole's face as he'd left.

"Oh." Ms. Minchem's voice cut into his thoughts. "He left his headphones."

She bent to pick up Cole's cherry-red headset from the floor. Jay caught the glint of a scuffed brand logo on one earpiece. Those must have been pretty pricy . . .

"I could take them to him!" he blurted.

Dear lord.

Why had he said that?!

Jay cursed whatever demons had possessed his tongue back in that classroom. Ms. Minchem had immediately handed him the headphones, and he'd been way too embarrassed to back out after that. Now he was standing in front of the nearby establishment called Coraco's, mentally listing out all the horrible things that could happen. This place looked like a club of some sort. It could be full of thugs. Cole could be a thug. He was probably absolutely furious about Jay seeing that weird incident in the classroom, he would kill him on sight!

Swallowing, Jay resolved to hold out the headphones the second Cole spotted him. Maybe if he led with a tribute his life would be spared.

Squaring his shoulders, he plunged in. The entryway was dark, and for a moment he stumbled, blind.

"Ey," said a deep voice.

Jay's head snapped around. As his eyes adjusted he began to make out the dim form of a giant man, sitting behind a concierge desk. His bald head glowed in the murk, and he seemed to be wearing a worn-out suit over his excessive mounds of muscles. Jay froze, breathing shallowly.

"You got a problem?" rumbled the (presumed) bouncer.

Jay shook his head silently, his tongue cleaved to his palate. Distantly he realized he should at least hold up the headphones as some form of excuse, but the message got lost somewhere between his brain and his arm. His feet, however, were already in charge of the situation, and he found himself backing down the hallway at a fantastic pace. He wanted to say "um," but his back had already hit a door and he'd already pushed on through.

It took him a second to pull out of "escape the bouncer" mode. When he did, he realized the room around him was shaking with loud music. It was dark here too, but colored lights flashed disconcertingly from every side, making it hard to adjust his eyes. Everywhere there was motion. People were hopping and flailing as far as the eye could see.

Jay clutched the headphone band in both hands. He tried to tell himself that the sooner he found Cole, the sooner he could leave here with a clean conscience. How did people do this in the movies again?

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

"Cole?" he tried to shout.

It was pathetic, really. He was pretty sure he didn't even hear himself.

As he looked around, wondering if a dose of spare courage might be floating nearby like a power-up, someone jammed an elbow into his shoulder. He jumped forward, startled, and turned around stammering an apology for being in the way. To his discomfiture, all he could see was a knot of dancing people, with no sign of who had elbowed him.

Before he could process this, someone else brushed up against his shoulder. Again he shied away, only to bump against yet another person, awkardly knocking hips. The situation only deteriorated; the more he dodged the deeper he worked himself into the dancefloor, and the more people knocked against him.

"Hey," he stammered. "Excuse me? Sorry! Um, hello?"

How did anyone make themselves heard in here?

Eventually he resigned himself to just sidestepping awkwardly, trying to get bumped as little as possible, and looking around despairingly for some gap to escape through. Nothing opened up. He chewed his lip, wondering if he'd be stuck here till closing time. When did places like this usually close up, two AM? Three? Peachy.

Suddenly he did see a gap in the movement—but not the type of gap he'd been looking for. Cole had materialized in front of him, statue-still against the background of flailing forms. He squinted.

"Aren't you in my class?"

He seemed to barely be raising his voice, yet it cut right through the music and the tromping of dancers. Jay was too addled to wonder how he did that. He could only blink in overwhelmed silence.

Cole squinted at him a moment more, his eyes shifting between Jay and the surrounding chaos. Then he seized Jay's wrist and began to pull him across the dancefloor, blandly plowing a path through the club patrons. Within seconds the press of bodies gave way and Jay could catch his breath again. He panted, fighting back the last of the lingering queasy panic.

"What are you doing in here?" Cole turned back and folded his arms, clearly unimpressed.

"I . . . " Jay was still recovering. "Um, I, I, I—"

He finally just shoved the headphones out to arm's length. Cole's eyebrows popped up.

"Hey! How did you—"

Jay realized all at once what this must look like.

"I—I didn't steal them!" he yelped, eyes widening. "I—you—n-no—"

Digging a hand into his hair, he struggled to even out his panicky breathing. Come on. He was off the dancefloor, nobody was jostling him anymore. All he needed to do was calm down enough to coherently explain, just calm down, and fast, before Cole decided to punch his lights out—

—This wasn't working.

Meanwhile Cole stared at him blankly. After a moment he turned his attention to the headphones, taking them from Jay and reverently wrapping the cord around the ear pieces.

"Right," he said, seemingly to himself. "I left 'em behind, didn't I?"

Jay breathed a massive sigh of relief. He went stiff again as Cole's gaze lifted to him, but the other teen only nodded tersely, tucking the headphones under his arm. Jay waited, wondering if he was going to say thank you. He didn't. Well, not unexpected.

The lack of conversation got awkward. Jay shuffled, half-turning away.

"I, uh—I'll be . . . um . . . " He stopped and looked at the dancefloor for a moment. Then he ventured to look sidewise at Cole.

" . . . I-is there maybe another way out of here?"

Cole shook his head.

"We'll have a break in the dancing after an hour, though." Jay's dismay must have showed on his face, because Cole unexpectedly cracked a dry half-smile.

"Ah, but you can stay with me till then."

Jay didn't complain when Cole dragged him off to the side of the room, thinking they were going into the kitchen to do some dishwashing, or waitering, or something. Cole, however, abruptly made a sharp left. To his shock, Jay found himself being pulled over to the vacant DJ station in the room's corner. Against every expectation, Cole let go of his arm right next to it, then slid behind the double turntable.

"W-wait—you're the DJ?!" Jay couldn't keep the amazement out of his voice.

"Uh-huh. Stay outta my way, 'kay?" Cole's tone was absent, but not unkind. Jay looked at the continuing flurry of dancing going on nearby, then quickly stationed himself behind one of the giant speakers. Cole gave him a glance, so he smiled timidly, asking permission to stand here. Cole only elevated his eyebrows ambivalently and went back to fiddling with the bass balance. Hopefully that meant he didn't mind.

"This is . . . r-really cool," Jay managed after a few seconds of plucking up his courage.

"Ah, the pay's a joke," replied Cole. Jay cringed, wondering if he'd said something insulting.

"Equipment is clutch, though," continued Cole, and Jay relaxed again.

For a long time he stood silently off to the side, watching as Cole flipped records in and out and knocked their speeds or pitches up and down. Every motion looked lazy, casual, yet somehow they still happened incredibly fast. He was really an expert.

But the most interesting part was the way Cole's face changed. At school he always looked bored, way too chill, a little sleepy with his half-closed eyelids. Right now . . . well, all of that was still true. Except the corners of his mouth curved the other way.

Cole nodded slightly to the thud of the woofer, his ponytail swishing as he thumbed through his records box. He tugged out an EP, twirled it once over his wrist, then flicked it into place on the turntable. A new melody wove in behind the pounding beat. Cole tapped at the drumtrack, causing it to skip, then reached over and wiggled the melody record. Jay sucked in his breath excitedly as the turntable gave a beautiful classic shicka-shicka-wow!, just like in the movies.

Cole must have noticed him fanboying off to the side. Abruptly he turned and nodded at the turntable.

"Hey, get over here."

Jay blinked, startled. After a moment he hesitantly sidled up to Cole, careful not to knock elbows. He tried to ignore the fact that he was no longer fully hidden from the swirling dance floor, and that everyone could see him up here. Maybe they'd be looking at Cole instead?

"Try a scratch," said Cole, gesturing down at the records.

"Whaaa—me?!"

"Sure. It's not hard. Just wiggle it and let it go." Cole wobbled his wrist demonstratively.

Jay forgot all about the proximity of the dance floor. For a second he looked between Cole and the turntable. After a moment he began to reach for one of the records. His hand jerked back before he even made contact—he wasn't sure how much force a spinning record gave off.

Off to the side he saw Cole starting to roll his eyes. Spurred on, he set his teeth and managed to graze one finger onto the grooved vinyl surface, rushing straight to the wiggle and release.

Despite his timidity, it worked. It was a very sloppy one-syllable scratch, but it worked. As the music bounced onwards, Jay could only draw in a long, giddy gasp of delight. He felt like he'd just been granted superpowers.

Cole was laughing. Jay pulled back, blushing preemptively, but at last decided it might be all right. It seemed more like a "your enthusiasm is fun" laugh than a "geez, you're so weird" laugh. He hoped.

The hour slipped by quickly after that. Cole either ignored Jay and did his work, which suited Jay fine, or sometimes explained some buttons or let him pick a record—which, surprisingly, also suited Jay fine. He never felt comfortable, exactly, but he almost began to get into the groove of the club, just a tiny bit. Towards the end he even swayed a little to the music.

Finally Cole pulled up the mike and announced it was time for a break. The dance floor rang with groans and even a few catcalls. Jay observed with awe how Cole didn't even seem to notice. He was so confident.

The house lights turned up. Jay swiveled his head around, shocked at how different everything suddenly looked. Today was just one shock after another, really.

"Arrrrgh, well." Cole was stretching and mopping his forehead. "Be with you in a minute, bro."

Jay nodded mutely, grateful that he wouldn't have to face the front-desk bouncer alone again.

Once Cole had locked up his records, he started to lead Jay along the edge of the room.

"Have fun?" he asked over his shoulder.

"M-hm." Jay nodded shyly. "Uhhh . . . th-thanks for letting me stay. U-up with you, I mean. The, uh—"

"Sure, sure, no problem." Cole waved a dismissive hand. As they headed for the exit, he clicked his tongue and leveled a finger sassily at the bouncer.

"Yo Moe; this one's with me, a'right?" he called, jerking his thumb at Jay.

"Hmmm. So he gets in on your ID card?" rumbled the bouncer.

"What ID card?" whooped Cole, and he and the bouncer laughed raucously. Jay looked between them, bewildered.

"ID card?" he asked, following Cole out into the afternoon sunshine.

"Ahh, in-joke." Cole was still chuckling. "You're too young to be in there."

"Eeep!" Jay shrank back, horrified. Oh NO. Oh no no no no no. This was horrible! What had he done?! He'd broken the LAW! He might go to JAIL! He might even—

"Geeez, relax. Coraco's is pretty clean, for a club. Just has a really sloppy vetting policy." Cole slouched back against a lamppost, digging into his pockets. "I mean, look at me. I'm underaged. They let me work here."

"I—I—but—the police—" stammered Jay. He was already visualizing prison life.

"Nahhhhhh." Cole scoffed. "You're fine, man. Chill."

Jay sighed, wringing his hands as the panic slowly subsided. Cole worked here every day, right? If the police didn't catch that, they wouldn't catch the one time Jay showed up. Right?

He looked at Cole again, and was momentarily horrified to see him smoking a cigarette.

"Are you—!"

"Hmmmm?" Cole looked up lazily, blowing out a chalky gray streamer of smoke. Jay looked at him for a moment, his mouth open, then said nothing.

Maybe he had just exhausted his shock supply for the day, but he was amazed at how . . . well, how little he felt. Here was this guy: muscly as all get-out, working illegally, smoking underaged, and yet Jay wasn't scared of him at all. He couldn't bring himself to judge. Honestly, though it terrified him to admit it, he was almost a little envious. He wished he could have half of that casual confidence, that unruffled conviction that the world was entirely under his control.

"Why do you come here?" The words were out of his mouth before he could think. He semi-panicked, trying to assess if that had been inappropriate to ask.

Cole only gave a short, humorless laugh.

"Because it's hard to find any other places that accept quote-unquote, 'child labor'." He shrugged. "And I mean, I do like the music."

"Oh." Jay had so many more questions now, but he didn't dare ask.

"I mean . . . " Cole fell silent. For the first time, he seemed to have just as much trouble with eye contact as Jay usually did. After a second he sighed sharply. "Well, you were there. After school today."

"Uhh—" Jay's eyes widened as he remembered that painful phone call. "Y-y-you mean your dad? He—he makes you—"

"No, he doesn't make me!" Cole interrupted. "He doesn't even know. In the afternoon I say I'm studying, and by the time I get home he doesn't even realize I'm there. Because—well—you heard him."

He tossed down his cigarette stub and dedicated unnecessary attention to mashing it under his shoe. Jay gulped, struggling to find something to say. He was slowly piecing together some ideas about Cole's home life.

And it was bizarre. Just a second ago he'd been in awe of Cole's coolness, but now everything had flipped again and he didn't see a shred of it left. Cole just looked tired, and sad, and—and scared. Just as scared as he'd been in that classroom earlier. Just as scared as Jay felt every day.

"It . . . it's not your fault," he stammered, scrabbling for something reassuring, something to subtly show how much he appreciated Cole trusting him with this painful secret. "I, uh, I would want to get away too . . . "

Oh man, great job with that.

Cole didn't seem offended. He shook his head, expression still dark.

"Sure, I'm getting away. All the way away. As soon as I turn eighteen—" He jerked his head abstractly into the beyond. "And I'll change my name, get an apartment, start a record company, I dunno. And that old—" Jay cringed at the term "—can stay at home alone, and drink his worthless head off, and curse at someone else."

By the end of the sentence he was grinding each word out as if it were an accompaniment to a stabbing. Jay eyed the pavement under his feet, rubbing his hands uncomfortably. He could totally understand Cole's anger, but he didn't know how to respond to it.

"Ah, sorry man." Cole's voice was gentle again, just a little sheepish. "Little too edgy?"

"I-it's okay." Jay smiled shyly. He wished so much that he could find the perfect comforting, inspiring thing to say, but before he could even start formulating, Cole had pushed off the lamppost and turned towards the door of Coraco's.

"Anyway, I've gotta get back to it. You gonna make it home okay?"

"Oh, uh—sure, yeah!" Jay fumbled for more words, but Cole was already giving him a wave and disappearing back into the dark doorway. Not wanting to stare weirdly after him, Jay hastily turned away.

For a moment he stood and scruffed up his hair, trying to process the day's avalanche of new experiences. Finally, disoriented as to the time, he pulled out his phone to check the clock. His heart seized up when he saw he'd missed a call from his mom. He always came home right after school, but now he was almost two hours late. If she'd been genuinely worried he'd have missed a lot more than one call, but he still felt guilty.

Hastily he dialed.

"Hello, Mom? Oh gosh, hi! I know, sorry Mom, I didn't hear the ringing. I was—uhh—I was listening to music. With a friend."

He glanced over his shoulder, anxious that Cole might be there listening. Was he even allowed to call Cole a friend? He'd had a few sorta-friends up through middle school, but they were all kids he'd met in first grade. Back then you made friends by plunking down next to someone in the sandbox. He had no clue about the protocols for friend-making in high school.

His mom was already gushing with excitement, though. As he listened to her rattling on about how wonderful it was that he'd made a friend already, he couldn't help a wistful smile. He was so lucky to have two great parents.

The next day at school, Jay could barely contain himself. He went through his usual fussy little routine, setting out his textbook and notebook and pencils, but all the while he was wondering what would happen when Cole arrived. Would he say hi? Would he just nod? What would be the properly cool way to respond?

Cole finally sauntered into the classroom, red headphones on and blasting. Without so much as a glance at anyone, he slouched into his usual desk and began to dump his stuff atop it.

Jay slumped. He tried to drown out his disappointment by scolding himself for being so naïve. Of course Cole wouldn't acknowledge him. They'd barely even spoken last night, he'd just lurked around while Cole did his job. He'd read wayyyyy too much into that last conversation—it was just a random vent, and he'd taken it for some kind of heart-to-heart confession. Psh. How dumb did you have to be, to think that was how you made friends?

The teacher called "all right, guys, let's get started!", and the hubbub of the classroom started to die down. Even as miserable as he felt, Jay still lifted his head dutifully to watch the lesson. He could stew in his shame later.

A flash of red moved in the corner of his eye, and inadvertently he looked towards it. Cole was pulling off his headphones—and just at that second he looked back and locked eyes with Jay. A second's pause; then Cole smirked. He flicked his gaze a few times between Jay and the headphones, then very deliberately put them away and shot Jay a good-natured "not this time!" glare. Then he faced front again.

Jay did the same, biting his lip and hoping wildly that his huge grin didn't show.

So, this was how you made friends.

A/N: Those two are gonna be great for each other. Cole's gonna sorta protect Jay a little, and Jay's gonna at least get those cigarettes away from him. I did see somewhere that Cole's supposed to be a diligent student, despite his devil-may-care attitude, and maybe Jay had something to do with that too . . .