AN: Wow! The last chapter really brought a review boom; how great! Nothing makes me happier than to see an inbox full of review alerts. Anyways, as I warned you, the updates will not be as frequent since the summer (I've barely had the time to finish this one!), but I'll try to keep it as regular as possible.
Much thanks to the repeat reviewers, and thank you to my new ones, wildred, Reluctant Dragon, prurientmind, JadeDragoness, Bellatrix (P.S., Richie was wryly referencing the scene in Spider-Man 2, where Doc Oct attacks the diner. I'm sorry it wasn't clear; I thought people would see this as Richie referencing a movie and not me mixing up canons. You are completely right about Romeo and Juliet, though. I thought that Romeo spent more time in Mantua than he did. Thank you.), Tristripe, CloudKat, Cally9 and Maru. Thanks for all your kinds words and suggestions. (That's four 'thank you's in a paragraph. Wow, and now five.)
Still, one last (and biggest) thanks to Mai Lynn, for the beta. I love you, girl!
Disclaimer: I disclaim all rights to these characters, cause they're not mine. You can even have Mr. Película, if you want. He'd love the attention.
Warnings: T for language and violence. Slash.
Mind the Gap
Chapter 7: Later
Holy shit, what the hell just happened?
Richie looked up from the passing streetlights below them to the masked face of Static, who was staring at him with a contented glow. The blond opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it and looked away. He had no idea what to say except…
Holy shit.
Still, he was greatly improved from just earlier, when he couldn't even put that thought in order. When the boys finally realized how late it was, Virgil offered to fly them home. It went to show how out of it Richie was when he didn't object to the idea of himself being seen flying around in Static's arms. All thoughts were dissolved again when said hero moved forward to brush his lips against Richie's temple.
"Are you cold?"
Richie blinked as he considered the words, and then shook his head. Static moved his arms tighter anyways.
"I could give you my coat…"
He knew he was in trouble when he felt his limbs grow fuzzy at the show of such concern, instead of the urge to jab his friend hard in the ribs for offering him his jacket as if Richie was a heroine in a bad teen movie.
Their position wasn't an unusual one. In fact, they were like this just last Monday, over that damned graveyard. Of course, the bloodthirsty zombies were probably a mood-breaker. And back then, he had no idea that Virgil's mouth could do that and that that would feel so good, and Richie felt his breathing starting to pick up its pace again. His survival instincts began to take control, and he fell back to the thing that had done a pretty good job with protecting him when his friend wasn't there.
He had to separate himself from Virgil, now, so that he could think.
Static yelped when he felt cold hands rifle through his jacket. "Geeze, Rich, I'm not complaining, but do you want us to crash?" He stopped himself, probably realizing that he was trying to stop the very boy he'd been fantasizing about from groping him. "Never mind, knock yourself out."
If only he could. Richie wasn't feeling up Static for fun, and two hours ago he wouldn't have even considered such a thing a possibility. He smiled triumphantly when he produced the Shock Vox from one of Static's inner pockets, and placed it against the fragile cup of his ear. "Backpack. Pizza pockets," he said, giving the password to his robot's collected police reports. "Present condition."
"What are you doin-" The other boy started before he was shushed. He shifted his hold on Richie a bit, and tried again. "If there was a Bang Baby sighting, Backpack would have called. Anything that's going on is normal stuff."
Richie didn't answer as he worked out the coded beeps that Backpack rattled off. His visor wasn't on, so he had to use his head to translate it. Normally he didn't even have to spare such activities a thought before it was done, but Static's hands on his back were proving to be distracting. Finally he heard what he was waiting for. Bingo! Huzzah for Dakota's irrepressible criminals. Nothing would ever keep them down; he could make a Broadway musical about them like Little Orphan Annie. "There's a break-in at the RadioShack on Memorial Road. It's nearby, and the police are right now busy with a pretty bad accident about five miles north."
"You want us to go? Now?" Static looked at the other teen in his arms, surprised. "But it's late! You're not even in costume, and no one's in any danger. The shop's being robbed by regular humans, so it's practically out of our jurisdiction, anyways. It's a big business, the insurance could probably cover the TVs and computers, and," he paused for the moment, and let out a small whine. "I'm tired and cold."
"V!" Richie looked at him in false outrage. "How can you say that? This is a clear affront to the system of capitalism that has made this country what it is. Think about the insurance company's employees' children, who won't be able to eat tomorrow because their parents had to pay thousands of dollars out to make up for stolen property!" They both knew things didn't quite work that way, so Richie fell back to his old ally, logic. "Besides, they could use their black market profit to traffic drugs or weapons." There, they both knew he had won by now. Still, it didn't hurt to be certain. "A wise man once said, 'With great power comes great responsibility.'"
"Great," Static muttered as he stopped and made a u-turn. "I'm about to get my ass capped because you watch Spider-Man every month."
"Just put me down and go fight crime!"
"I'm going, I'm going," he sighed, racing towards the break-in. "Just listen up, Rich. We're in a bad part of town in the middle of the night, so I can't leave you alone out here…"
Static paused, and looked at his companion expectantly. His argument won, the boy had gone back to resting against the hero, but when he recognized the silence he did what was expected of him. "Oh yeah, like you're one streetwise mofo," Richie snarked half-heartedly, before falling back into the happy daze that made thinking so difficult.
Static continued. "Fine, I don't want either of us to be separated, happy? I'll drop you off somewhere out of sight but within shouting distance. You don't have any of your gear with you, and even if you did you couldn't use it out of costume, so just sit tight. If these are just normal punks, I think I can take them out on my own."
Normally Richie would argue over being sidelined, but he didn't really have a case. Besides, this is what he wanted, anyways. "My shirt might be spandex, is that close enough?"
Static took on a teasing tone. "Hmmm, might be enough for your torso to fight crime, but what about the rest of you?" He ran a hand down the other teen's arm. "It's still- it's a nice shirt, though."
Richie felt his breathing escalate once again, but didn't answer. Yup, separating from Static to figure things out was a very good idea. Best one ever.
Sooner than expected Static was lowering them in an alley and Richie dropped himself off. The words "be right back" was murmured into his hair, and then Static blasted through the mouth of the alley, making a sharp right. Richie felt a bit stunned, their proximity on the ground making the display of affection seem so much more real. He then managed to make his way to the edge of the alley in time to hear shouts and curses when the hero made his appearance with an, "Oh, the Eighth Street Gang; our third meeting in a month. What contest in Hell did I win to get that prize?"
Richie quickly poked his head out, before moving back within the protective darkness. His partner was out of sight, the action was taking place just over the corner of the block. He knew that Static would most likely be able to handle things, and since Richie was unmasked, hanging around the other hero using Gear's devices would be too conspicuous, anyways. Still… he fiddled with the caps in his pocket, comforted by their weight. He was the one who pressured Static to show up here, if anything happened it would be his fault.
He sighed and leaned against the brick wall, next to a garbage can he could duck behind if a criminal walked by. Well, he could just add that concern to his list of worries, and work through it one by one. Near the top was the alarming thought of someone spotting him with Static. God, why was he so stupid to agree to fly around in the hero's arms like Lois freaking Lane? Like there wasn't already a huge target zeroing in on his secret identity thanks to the homework that wasn't.
Richie knew why he rushed to Virgil without thinking when the boy spread his arms and offered to lift them to the sky. His blood had rushed from his brain to certain other areas of his body. Oh God, how could he expect to fight crime when Virgil was so close? He didn't know how his friend had been handling it for the past few months, but to be fair, Static didn't need to use his mind as much as Gear did.
A crunch of an abandoned beer can behind him and the muttered growl of, "Now, you'll be a good little hostage, faggot, and you won't be hurt too much," was all the warning Richie had.
He didn't have a chance to think, to feel scared, to do anything except react. His hand tightened around the lid of the garbage can as he spun with it to face his attacker. The corner of his eye catching the glint of metal, the teenager adjusted the trajectory of his swing accordingly, and the knife went flying. While the sound of the weapon clattered against the wall, Richie reversed the course of the heavy lid, adding his other hand to it in order to maintain speed. It hit the gang member square in the jaw, toppling the larger man even as his knife fell uselessly to the ground.
Richie looked the fallen man over. He was kinda cute in a greasy, violent sociopath way, but the blond would think about that later. He didn't want to use a zap cap unless he was forced to, and the man appeared unconscious, so Richie just kneeled to confiscate the nasty looking weapon and then leaned against the wall.
He briefly considered giving the gang banger the hint not to announce himself to his hostage before at least securing said hostage, but he wasn't in a benevolent mood. "What tipped you off," he couldn't help asking, "about the gay thing?" He felt himself grow irrationally worried. Had he changed sometime during the night? "Am I lisping? Making strange hip movements? Am I doing some hand thing?" He looked down at his palms, and then at the sleeves that covered them. "Oh, the shirt. Duh." First his dad, now this guy. But at least Virgil liked it, so he knew he would wear it again. Oh shit, he was screwed. Dismissing the danger as nullified, Richie was once again lost in his thoughts.
He was just hard up, was all. He was acting like an idiot because Virgil was the only male to be interested in him, ever. Of course he was wired to respond, it was part of nature. A part of nature that evidently never wants Richie to breed. But he didn't like Virgil, not the way Virgil liked Frieda, and Daisy, and now him. Cause if he did, imagine how much it would hurt when he really did join Virgil's Girls Club, and the eventually loss of interest that entailed? Would it hurt so bad that he'd have to lose Virgil completely?
Sounds of gunshots brought him back to reality. He was out of the alley before he even thought about it, running to where his friend disappeared to. The sounds of the battle were growing closer, but there was nothing to show that Static was injured. Then he saw a body fly across the street and stick to the wall as if glued. Well, at least that showed Static was still fighting.
The hero came into sight, backing away on his disc and floating two firearms in the air. Angry shouts followed him. "Yo, you prick! Give us back our guns!"
"Um, no? You can try and get them, though." He shot them a mocking grin and glanced down the street at his side, blanching when he saw Richie in the middle of it, out from undercover. "Try to get them… over here!" After surreptitiously shooting his friend a pissed look, he darted forwards out of sight, leading the battle away from his partner.
Catching the hint and seeing that his friend was handling things, Richie moved back into the alley and was greeted with the unpleasant image of his attacker unsteadily moving up to his feet. Richie reflexively moved one hand to the pocket containing his caps, but didn't want to be seen using such technology if he could help it. He instead brandished the very same dagger that was used the threaten him. "Stay back, or else!" He winced at his clichéd choice of words. "I really mean it! Just run away if you want, Static will catch you anyways, but stay the hell away from me!"
The gang member just smirked cruelly. Any attempt to appear intimidating, however, was marred with an ugly bruise that was blossoming on the right side of his head. "Soft boy like you, you couldn't do that. Get blood on your hands?" He took an unsteady step forward, and Richie retreated slightly, still holding the knife between them. "You don't have the guts."
The man shot forward a hand to capture a wrist, and Richie unthinkingly dodged and lashed out.
"Fuck!" He bellowed and clutched his wrist to his chest. "You fucking stabbed me!"
"Well, you did say I didn't have the guts. At that point I sorta had to." Richie shrugged and moved to pull out a zap cap with his free hand, figuring the man may be adequately distracted.
He paused when he heard the other whimper, "This isn't how it goes in the movies…"
"What are you talking about?" Richie gestured with the knife. "This is exactly what happens in the movies. Bad guy taunts the supposed nerd; the nerd proves himself, and 'scene'."
"No." The gang member grunted and covered his injured arm in his shirt, tears of sweat growing in his brow. "The bad guy goes to the lady with the gun, says that she doesn't have it in her to kill a man, then dramatic music plays as he takes the gun, then we have hostage situation." He paused as he dropped to his knees. "And then the hero rescues her, but what the fuck does Hollywood know?"
Richie snarled in outrage. "I'm not a girl! Besides, that situation only works if it's a life and death scenario. The woman doesn't have it in her to kill a man, not stab him! With just a knife the rule doesn't apply."
"Are you sure its not life and death right now?" The wounded man looked at his arm, and glanced at Richie. "It's bleeding bad… I think you cut something important!"
"What? Impossible. I got you, but in order to slash through the veins you need to cut very deep. Most people who attempt to suicide by slashing their wrists fail for this reason." Richie caught the older man's disturbed look and sighed. "I know everything," he explained.
The man only paled, eyes rolling back in his head. "…mother," he whimpered, falling forward in a slump.
Richie grimaced, and then jerked forward. "Shit!" He looked over at the mouth of the alley, but Static was nowhere to be found. He walked towards the collapsed man, wary despite his concern. When no motion was made when Richie nudged him with a foot, the blond was forced to kneel down to check.
And that's when the other man struck. Richie was not surprised, but still was not expecting the speed of the attack. He wrenched back, cursing loudly in an attempt to gain his friend's attention. The wrist holding the knife was caught while he was pushed down on his back from the weight from his attacker. The other man moved his 'injured' arm to press down on Richie's other hand, and commenced twisting the wrist with the knife.
Richie dropped it.
The thug released the wrist he was holding to grab the weapon, which was when Richie reared back an arm to punch him in the face. The man grunted and released his hold on Richie when the fist connected, and the blond turned on his stomach to crawl away.
He just managed to get to his feet when he felt the cold touch of steel against the side of his neck. "Six years of drama classes…" The young man muttered, moving an arm across Richie's shoulders to press him close against his chest as the knife was lifted somewhat. "Paid off, huh?"
"You took drama?" Richie snorted. "And you call me gay…"
"Shut up!" The knife moved a bit closer to his neck, but didn't dig in. Richie obeyed; he wasn't the one with the blade. "Ok… start walking out to see our hero, and tell him to back off."
"He wouldn't listen to me, man. I'm a nobody; I was just walking around here…"
"He's not gonna let you die, either." He heard a snicker against his ear as the knife was waved wildly. "Not nice to be under the knife, is it?"
Richie felt himself grow irate at the unfairness of that statement. "Hey, you did it first!"
"Shut up," the young man repeated and pushed Richie's back, moving the blade to poke against the back of his neck so that the boy had room to move forwards. Richie started to walk, and felt a weary pressure push against his shoulders as he considered being bailed out of trouble for the third time that week. After some deliberation, he decided that although the chances for injury were great, getting rescued by Virgil again was not acceptable. It was getting above his weekly quota.
As they shuffled towards the entrance, Richie suddenly jerked forward, latching his hands around his chosen weapon. The man let out a surprised "hey", and stood in shock when his knife was knocked aside. He matched his former hostage's gaze, and held his hands out in supplication. "Oh no, no no no, please don't, not agai-"
The merciless trash can lid got its second moment of heroism when it smashed the criminal in the very spot it met before, causing the thug to crumble again. Richie placed a hand on his neck, relaxing when he felt nothing wet or sticky. He glanced over at the thug, and, judging him to be adequately unconscious, he fished through a pocket.
"Fool me once…"
A whoosh and a snick were released in the alleyway when Richie finally decided to use one of his zap traps. He moved forward to pick up the knife that lay abandoned on the ground, noticing that the sounds of battle had quieted.
Soon enough, he heard his friend shout his name as he approached, and watched the unconscious thug slam against a wall only to be held there with Static's power.
"Are you alright?"
He felt himself about to be pulled into the familiar pair of arms, and he let out a cry of warning as he moved the dagger high above them to avoid impaling his friend. "Watch out, I've got a knife!" Static looked up at the evil-looking thing and abruptly let go of Richie, glaring at the presently captured criminal while closing a fist.
"His?"
"Mine now." Richie checked out his souvenir before placing it through a loop on his jeans, and finally acknowledged Static's ashy features. "Hey, it's ok. I face worse than this jerk all the time. I just bashed him on the head until he fell down."
Static was not consoled. "What, you don't have vocal chords? Couldn't try, 'Yo, Static! SOS, maniac with a knife?'" He cast another look at the criminal, then back at his friend.
Richie widened his eyes into large circles and laced his hand together as he hopped excitedly on his feet. "Oooh, do I get to say, 'I'm not your sidekick, so bite me' again? Please? Cause I had so much fun last time…"
"You had to fend him off with garbage, Richie! Against a knife…" He sighed and rubbed his face miserably. "I knew we shouldn't have gotten involved, not with you without your gear like that. I mean, you've been having bad luck with trouble all wee- well, year… years."
Richie chose not to respond to the last statement. "Don't beat yourself up over it, V. It was my decision too, and if I needed your help, I would have called you, ok? And I don't doubt you wouldn't be able to kick butt on my behalf or whatever." He quickly changed the subject. "Did you get everyone? Any injuries? Property damage? Eh, who cares about the last one. But no one hurt?" Static nodded as he floated on his disc. He spread out his arms in invitation, and the blond felt that same disturbing compulsion to join him. This time he held to the side of common sense, and Static cast him a look when he didn't get on. "Um, sorry," Richie began. "I don't think that's a good idea."
The hero swayed on the disc, moving it back and forth in a nervous fidget. "Aw man. What's the prob now, bro?"
Ew, incest.
Richie looked at the unconscious man on the ground. "The problem is I wasn't thinking before. We're lucky this guy didn't see us cuddling. Who knows, maybe he did? I have too much going on right now to also have to deal with even more people trying to use Richie Foley as a hostage against you. And if that doesn't kill us, my father will. If he doesn't have a heart attack; I mean, he has high enough blood pressure! Flying around with you out of costume… I don't know why I didn't figure out what a bad idea that was before."
Static floated still for a moment when his face suddenly lit up. "You were distracted by me. By my ripped-"
The other boy felt heat rise over his face and was grateful for the dark. "I still have the knife, you know!" He glared, daring the other to finish the thought.
Static, being smart, didn't. "Ok, you're right. Being seen with me is too risky. I guess neither of us was really thinking. But how are you going to get home? We're downtown, and it's past midnight."
"I have cash for a bus… and I still have a trap. Plus if I see anyone with the Evil Eye… stabbity-stabbity!" Richie unsheathed and gestured violently with his new weapon, as his friend hovered back, obviously thinking the genius was way too taken with his new toy.
Static didn't look convince. "I can get you a taxi…"
"V!" Richie took a deep breath as he glanced one last time at the still silent form behind him, before walking out of the alley. "I can get home by myself. Just because…" He trailed off. Finishing that statement would mean actively acknowledging what happened earlier that night, and the blond hadn't thought through an adequate plan dealing with that development yet. "…just because you're acting like an idiot doesn't mean I have to walk around at night with a rape whistle!"
Static look properly chastised, floating alongside his friend. "Right, right… Fine. You win, the bus stop for the 43 is just down at the end of this street, then to the left."
"Hence me walking towards it and away from the crime scene before anyone sees us together and recognizes me." He gave his friend a harsh look. "Go home. I'll be fine."
He wanted to stay, Richie could tell. But the blond had made it clear that his company presented a threat, and that was enough for Static. "Fine…" He glanced at Richie, uncharacteristically shy. "I had a great time tonight. Well, I mean, before the gunshots and stabbings and stuff."
"It was fun," Richie muttered in a carefully neutral tone. "Now, up, up, and away!" He pointed upwards with his knife. Static rolled his eyes and gave his friend a sharp salute, before racing upwards. Only then did Richie start to relax, and he began walking again.
Avoiding detection was a practical reason for their separation, but it wasn't the main purpose for Richie's demand. He had no idea where this sudden attraction to Virgil came from, what it meant, and what consequences would arise from it. He needed to figure those things out, and he didn't want to be with his friend until he did. As he shivered with pleasure while he remembered the feeling of being with Virgil earlier that night, he suspected it would be harder said than done.
Richie continued to play with his newly-acquired toy, pretending to ignore the disc shaped object high in the sky that was following him home.
When Virgil said hello to Richie the next day at the gas station by wrapping his arms around him from behind and kissing him soundly on the neck, Richie realized that keeping himself detached would be even harder than he thought.
Virgil felt his captive tense, so he gently nuzzled his cheek. "Is something wrong?"
"Well…" Richie muttered, inching his head away. "You're acting like my dad." He felt the arms abruptly fall away as if he was set on fire, and by the time he looked around Virgil was on the other end of the room, eyes darting back and forth wildly. The blond laughed at him, and looked back at Backpack, which was currently turned over on its back like a stuck turtle. "I mean, the way you hugged me like that. It's something Dad does when he has too much to drink, it makes him start singing Manilow and wrapping himself around Mom from behind while she's trying to do the dishes." He unscrewed a latch in Backpack as he mused half to himself, "I never liked that gesture, it seemed almost condescending to me."
"…I am not like your dad!"
Richie chuckled again at Virgil's indignation. The black youth worked up the nerve to try again, this time carefully moving to his friend's side and playfully walking two fingers up his arm. Richie again twitched away. "What do you think you're doing?"
Virgil smirked. "If you have to ask that, I'm really not doing too good a job." He started to move forward again, but his friend placed a halting hand against his chest.
"Everyone has a bubble, V. A personal space bubble." Richie spread his arms and moved in a circle. "Stay out of my bubble, will ya? Geeze."
This only served to confuse the other youth and make him move closer, but instead of attempting another kiss, he forced himself between the genius and his work. He was not respecting the bubble. "I thought you said last night was fun?"
Richie nervously twirled a screwdriver with his fingers. "I did, I did. It was… nice. Very, very, very nice." He glanced at Virgil's puzzled gaze, and sighed. "It's just, last night, in bed, I was thinking..."
"Fuck." Richie widened his eyes at his friend's exclamation, so Virgil moved back to calm down. After several seconds he spoke in a tone that was straining in the effort to remain congenial. "You know, you seemed to like things a lot last night."
Richie forced himself to shrug. "Well, I didn't dislike it, no."
Virgil jerked his head forward in disbelief, then rifled through his pockets with one hand as he grabbed his friend's wrist with the other. He pulled Richie's hand forward so he could force an object into his palm. "Here, you dropped this when you were not disliking our kiss!"
Richie didn't have to look to know it was his watch in his hand, and he felt heat rise to his face. He didn't remember Virgil picking it up, perhaps using his powers to bring it out of the bushes like a magnet. He was distracted by other things, a fact that the other teen knew. Conceding to the point, Richie amended his statement. "It was good, ok? Earth-shattering. Happy?"
"No," Virgil frowned, speaking in a hurt tone. "If it was so good, then why do you want us to stop?"
"I never said that." He smiled when he saw flashes of surprise and relief over the face of his friend. "I do want to go on another date sometime. Soon." He pushed Virgil back when the other boy took that as a show of permission for less platonic activities. "But we're not on a date right now." He caught the bewildered look. "Remember? Before, you promised not to treat me any different before or after our date."
Virgil scoffed. "Yeah, but you're not actually going to hold me to that!" He looked at his friend, waited a moment, then groaned. "You totally are, aren't you?"
"I think we should keep our friendship and our… whatever as separated as possible." He moved past Virgil back to Backpack, examining a few wires. "That way, if things blow up, we'll still have our friendship to fall back on. Right now we are not on a date, so chill."
Virgil thought quickly. "…can we go on a date now?"
"No." Richie said in a firm voice that belied the enticement the suggestion gave. "I'm busy uploading a tracking program on Backpack that, with some work, may help us find Hotstreak even without a tracker. Besides, I think we need to mandate at least a twenty-four hour break period between our dates, otherwise we could inadvertently progress into a full-blown relationship."
"Oh yeah, wouldn't that be awful?" Virgil muttered, shaking his head in frustration. "I can't believe you think that because we're dating we won't be friends anymore!"
Richie unscrewed a plate, grabbed a small grey device and worked to attach it to the exposed wires. "We're not dating. We're just going on dates. Big difference."
Virgil paused, thought for a moment, and then shook his head. "Actually, there's no difference at all, but don't try to distract me! How shallow do you think I am? You think that after a few dates I'm going to change my mind?"
That was exactly what Richie thought, but he couldn't say that so callously without hurting his friend and perhaps damaging their friendship more than the eventual break-up would. "I don't know, ok? I've never thought about this before, I haven't been in a relationship before, and you've never been with a guy before. So many things could happen. V, I… I don't know what's going on, but I did like last night way more than I expected and I am willing to do it again… I don't think I have a choice in the matter anymore, actually. But I need a fail-safe, Virgil. I need a part of us, our friendship to remain static and untouched if we try things out. I need something to fall back on, don't you? Dating is scary enough as is, I'm not going to do it if I can't still just hang out with my best friend."
Virgil stared at Richie, taking his speech in. "You know, you're making this thing way more complicated than it needs to be."
"Well, I'm a very complicated person."
Virgil snorted at the understatement of the century, and began to pace. "Fine fine. You win, we'll play by your random and dumbass rules, ok?" He bounced excitedly on his heels. "When's the next date?"
"You just wanna make out."
"You blame me?"
"This is so surreal," Richie muttered, and then shrugged. "Tomorrow?"
"Yes!" Virgil stated immediately, before smacking his forehead with a palm. "Wait, Frieda's throwing a huge bash tomorrow, since her parents are out of town. I promised her I'd go."
"Fine, we'll go together." Richie finished closing up Backpack and turned him online. "There, Backpack, and since you were such a good boy, you get a lollipop."
The dark youth looked around eagerly for the candy, but was struck by Richie's first statement. "You want us to go together? To a public party, with all our friends? Not that I'm complaining, but I figured you wouldn't want to be out by only our third date-"
"Second," Richie corrected. "Last Saturday wasn't a date, it was a sad joke. And I was being sarcastic, there are no lollipops. I think I have a have some tic-tacs in my bag, though."
"Oh, come on, it wasn't that bad. There were candles, and flowers, and, um, sugar that didn't come from packets…"
"Zombies, flying glass, dumpster diving, not to mention only one of us knew we were on a date at the time." He reached for his latest acquisition and showed it to his favorite invention. "Ready for a new blade, Backpack?" The robot responded by releasing one of its arms, which only was attached to a pair of hand-like pliers. It opened and closed its appendages beseechingly. "Good boy!"
Virgil couldn't help but to shudder. "Well, it was still a date. It wasn't a good one, I'll admit that, but it's still valid and… I think we're getting sidetracked, didn't you say something about me taking you to Frieda's party? You're actually cool with that?"
"Sure, just as long as no one knows we're on a date." He carefully placed the knife into the pliers, and when it seemed too bulky he sighed and moved to the closet.
The teen folded his arms and looked at Richie crossly. "And how are we supposed to do that?"
"We won't be overly affectionate; no opening doors or pet names. Or, you know, touching each other." He reached into the opening and lifted a small welding machine he created to make his work more efficient. He carried it back to the desk so he could shape the handle of the knife into a proper size.
"Know what's funny, Rich? This date is sounding like us just hanging out more and more." Virgil wasn't laughing.
Richie turned on the machine, and a loud buzz filled the gas station. "Can't hear you, Virg. I'm welding!"
A small shock danced through the machine and lightly tickled Richie's fingers. The affect on the welder was more dramatic, however, as the contraption shorted out with the sound of a motor powering down. The blond turned to his friend in shocked indignation, while Virgil boldly responded with a shrug and a smug, "Yeah, I did it."
Richie took a deep breath, and let it out again. "Look, I don't need to be outted right now. I have things to do, monsters to avoid, and a father to keep in blissful ignorance forever and ever, so help me God."
Virgil rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and Mr. Foley totally keeps tabs on the Dakota party scene." He raised his voice into a girlish trill. "He's best friends forever with Madison Whitman cause, like, she's teaching him the best cheers from her team and she thinks middle-aged rednecks are, like, totally cool."
The blond grew red, though on his face and not his collar. He bashed his father all the time, which was still less than the older man deserved, but no one else had that right to do so without risking getting socked in the face. It was about family honor. "Why the hell do you care so much whether or not we spend Frieda's party making out on her couch anyways, you horny bastard!"
Instead of realizing the errors of his ways and groveling, as Richie felt he should have, Virgil stood up straight, meeting Richie's glare with a whopper of his own. "Maybe because I know you're going to make us wait something like a week before we can go out again, and make me sign release forms in triplicate before we even do that, you paranoid maniac!"
"Then we'll just leave the party early and go somewhere private, or was that thought too logical to make it through your buffers?" Backpack turned to Virgil and Richie as the boys fought, perhaps confused with such a turn of events. Sensing the tension in the air, it latched itself to Richie's back uninvited, feeling its protection may be soon needed.
Virgil barely noticed. "Fine!" He raged. "We'll go somewhere private, make out, and it will be awesome!"
"Oh, you think so!"
"Yeah!"
"Fine! I'm damn well looking forward to the magical evening!" He concluded in an intentionally sarcastic tone, even if deep down Richie wasn't. He grabbed the knife and looking around in confusion for Backpack. He then reached over his shoulders and unceremoniously plucked the robot from around them, slamming it back on the desk with unusual force.
Virgil growled and shook his head, turning away from Richie in exasperation. Perhaps he was just as mad at himself, having let his impatience lash out at the very person he was trying to goad to his side. Richie also felt chagrin in regards to himself; instead of cultivating the friendly and supportive atmosphere he needed so desperately, he got them to a place that was anything but. However, both boys were too proud, and angry at each other's stubbornness, to do anything about it.
They spent the rest of the afternoon in bitter silence, both engrossed by the thought of the disaster that would be Frieda's party. But whatever thoughts they may have entertained, the reality of it would be much, much worse.
Thank you for reading this chapter, and I would really like to hear what you think.
