A/N: My first H.I.V.E. fanfic. A couple of notes:

a) This will be multichapter. The chapters will probably switch off between Shelby (first person) and Wing (third person). I have no idea how many chapters it will have, but I'll try to update frequently.

b) Pairing: Shelby/Wing all the way. There might be some Otto/Laura later in the fic.

c) It might get a little darker later in the fic as well; I'm really not sure yet.

d) I would love it if you reviewed with some constructive criticism on

1) the style of writing. It's kind of rambling and I'm not sure if I like it.

2) the characters. I'm trying to keep them from being dreadfully OOC, but am I succeeding?

3) basic grammar/mechanics, because I have problems with tenses.

Disclaimer: I wish.


"…however, we can solve the issue of spontaneous combustion by adding the molecular stabilizer, which, when applied correctly, can…"

I could practically feel my eyes glazing over. Professor Pike gestured to one of the many compartments on the diagram I could not comprehend. Hell, I didn't even know what it was.

Attempting to shake myself out of my mental stupor, I glanced around at the rest of the class. Laura and Otto, lab partners again, were both enraptured. Laura kept nodding, like she understood. What she understood, though, is beyond me.

Behind me, Franz and Nigel were both looking completely lost. They were pretty nice guys. Nigel had been a little wary of me though, ever since I stole his uniform one time, just to keep in practice. I know that's morally wrong and everything, but we're at a school for villains. AND I gave it back… the next morning. He'd had to wear one of Franz's uniforms that whole day, so naturally he was swimming in it. It kept falling down. Nigel wears boxers with platypuses on them.

It was really, really funny.

I leaned across to Wing, my lab partner. "Do you understand any of this?" I whispered. "Because I don't. I mean, what the hell is this anyway? Some kind of space-age ice cream maker?" That doesn't sound too bad, actually. I like ice cream; that's one of the things I miss most about America. There are no good ice cream places in H.I.V.E., and yet they serve haggis. Laura loves haggis, but the very idea of which disgusts me. Just thinking about that makes me want to become a vegetarian. Except I like hamburgers.

For a moment, it looked like Wing might smile, despite the fact that was one of my more pathetic jokes. Then his eyebrows steepened towards each other, and he gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head, telling me to be silent. I could tell he was trying to concentrate on the computer generated diagrams in front of us, which had grown a bunch of little arrows that were gesturing and squiggling. I had long ago given that up to be a lost cause, as I could never hope to understand it.

Hate to say this, but that shun hurt. Luckily, right then, the bell for the class rang, cutting of Professor Pike. The holographic diagrams in front of us faded. "What's up with that, big guy?" I asked, shoving him a little as we left. "No one shushes the Wraith."

"I was under the impression I was talking to Shelby, not Wraith. However, if you have developed multiple personalities, merely alert me and I will hasten to get you the appropriate help." Wing replied, looking down at me.

"Okay, three things. First, if that was a joke, it was one of the least funny jokes I've ever heard. Second, I SO do not have MPD. Once a Wraith, always the Wraith. Don't you ever forget that. Third, why do you have to be SO FREAKING TALL?" It was true, Wing towered over me. I won't deny that I'm guilty of liking the strong, dark, handsome guys (cough Wing cough) but sometimes it could be a little annoying. When sparring, for instance. It's kinda hard to spar with someone when you have to tilt your head back to see their face.

Wing raised an eyebrow. "Another three things," he said, looking uncannily like a professor I had just mouthed off to, which has happened many a time. Ah, nostalgia. "First, you are obviously not counting any of your own jokes in that mix, which are sadly not funny even to the one who, as you so aptly put it, was born without a sense of humour. Second, I doubt I will ever forget that you were once the Wraith, even if I intended to, as you insist on springing references every few days. Third, I believe that my genetics are to blame for my height. I suggest you take the case up with them instead of yelling at me." He nudged me with his elbow, the only way you could tell he was teasing through his unbreakable calm. It still ended up shoving me into three members of the science and technology stream, who glared and moved off.

I raised an eyebrow at him in what I hoped was a cute and playful way. One of my boyfriends back in California told me it was once, but he turned out to be a psycho. "Careful there, you might hurt my feelings," I pouted, bumping him with my shoulder. "Let's see who's laughing in Tactical Maneuvers today. I PWN at dual wielding."

"'Pwn'?" Wing asked, looking amused. I gave him a quick reproachful look as I tied my hair into an elastic in preparation of our next class.

"You're just jealous your vocabulary is so painfully limited, noob." I stuck my tongue out at him. It had been a while since I'd stooped to nerd talk; if anyone other than Laura found out that I illegally played World of Warcraft on my computer, I would die. I'll have to control that in the future.

Wing was about to make some kind of "witty" retort, but then I saw Laura frantically motioning to me across the hallway. "See you later, big guy. You better prepare to be PWNED!" I added over my shoulder, just to annoy him, but all he did was smile at me in this exasperated way. It was kind of cute.

Laura immediately broke into giggles when I got to her. "Pwned? Shel, are you suffering from withdrawal again? Do I need to hold a support group for you and your weird geeky habits? Honestly, I'm supposed to be the nerd in this relationship."

"Oh, shut up, Brand. Let's not even begin on what I read in your diary about Otto last week. Hormonal teenage girl much?" Ha. Beat that. I'm deeply aware that to most people it would seem like Laura and I are not actually best friends, but that's so not the truth. We're like sisters, annoying the hell out of each other and everything.

"You read my diary?" Laura yelped. "But… it's locked… oh." She face-palmed at not realizing beforehand that with my amazing lock picking skills, no place is safe. "Next time, my diary will be electronic, encrypted with ten layers of code."

"See, now THAT might be safe."

"Too bad you don't keep a diary; I could see all the sappy things you've written about Wing." teased Laura, poking me in the forehead. I was suddenly very aware of how warm my cheeks were getting.

"What are you talking about?" I stammered, aware I was doing a very poor job of convincing her that my feelings toward Wing were strictly platonic, maybe because they weren't.

Laura grinned mischievously. "Anyone can tell," she sang. "You're so obviously soul mates. Don't cover your ears! It's the truth. Shelby and Wing, sitting in a tree, S-N-O-G-G-I-N-G…"

"Get any louder, why don't you?" I hissed, grabbing her wrist. People were starting to stare. I was just thankful that Wing had long since disappeared into the crowd. Hopefully he was far out of earshot by now.

This continued until we reached Tactical Maneuvers, where Laura surrendered, apologized, and promised me her dessert at dinner. This was a LIE, because half the time Laura eats not only her dessert, but Otto's as well, when she can persuade him to hand it over. It's not that hard; it just takes a lot of batting of eyelashes, and often dropping things and then bending to pick him up in his presence. Men are so easy to manipulate. Well, some men.

We arrived after Otto and Wing had. Otto, Laura, and I bantered like usual as we geared up, donning the vests and guns that worked similarly to laser tag. Wing was oddly distant. Several times, I caught him sneaking quick glances at me. He was blushing, which was very unusual.

Ah. Not completely out of earshot then.

I really don't know whether to be pleased or not. I mean, Seventeen says that blushing glances are always a good sign.

Ok, so maybe I have a pretty big crush on Wing. I'm a teenage girl locked in a school for villains with no external stimuli except some geeky people with no lives in an online role-playing world. Sue me.