Bandslash fic: The Story So Far
The Story So Far | PG-13 | ~12,000
Mike Carden/Kevin Jonas | Take your high school AU and spin it:
William’s mouth curves up at the corners and he says, “I like you, Jonas. There’s something delightful about you, look here.” Reaching out, he grasps Kevin’s wrist with long, soft fingers. He holds his hand up and blows lightly across his palm and a blue flame sparks to life, hovering in the air above his skin. “Wonderful chemistry, you’d make someone a very pretty familiar.”
A/N: [written for starflowers, who wanted "Sexual tension! Predator!Mike! Misunderstandings! High school melodrama! Bonus points if the Panic! boys make an appearance! Or Ryan! Mikey!" - originally posted at sodamnskippy for the 2009 Christmas gift-fic exchange.] So, okay, this is completely ridiculous. I hope you like it anyway, oh mod-pal of mine. I used to think you were amazing, back in the Harry Potter fandom, and now I still think you’re amazing, but also a complete sweetheart and kind of a spaz, and that just makes me like you more. Happy holidays! I’m glad I got to write this for you :) (also, can’t forget: major, awesome thanks to insunshine for the beta!)
The Story So Far
Kevin doesn’t really know why he’s there. He thinks he’s probably the only Lacker, first of all, and even though Kevin’s always taken his dad’s teachings on tolerance to heart, the people at Kevin’s school are strangely intolerant towards him. It’s been a month, and the only Other he’s friendly with is Brendon. And Brendon’s a halfling, so to most people he doesn’t even count.
So, the party - Kevin suspects there’s a ninety-seven percent chance his invite had been a joke, but his dad found out about it, and there was no way he could not go, after that.
He breathes a small sigh of relief when he spots Brendon. There’s a moment when he catches Brendon’s eye and Brendon frowns, gaze darting to the side, and Kevin thinks great, because he knows Brendon’s going to ignore him. Brendon can’t afford to be seen with him outside of school, he gets picked on enough as it is. But then Brendon visibly shakes it off and forces a smile, cutting through the crowd toward him - people have noticed Kevin, but aside from a few weird glances, they’ve mostly left him alone.
“Wow,” Brendon says. “You should not be here at all.”
“I know,” Kevin says, nodding. He figures he’ll leave soon, anyhow. He’s been there long enough to satisfy his dad, but maybe he’ll stop by the diner in town to tack on another hour or so, just in case.
Brendon bobs his head, fingers twitching with excess energy. “Have you seen Ryan?” he asks.
Kevin gestures to where Ross is standing with Mikey Way, hips nearly touching. They’re both clearly fey; haughty eyes, bone thin bodies, sharp, pearly white teeth. Mikey’s actually been pretty nice to Kevin whenever they’ve crossed paths, but he still makes Kevin uncomfortable. Ross doesn’t usually talk. At least, he doesn’t usually talk out loud.
Ross cocks his head at Brendon when Brendon waves, eyes filled with intent, and Brendon’s cheeks heat. He says, “You’ll be okay, right?” and slips away before Kevin can answer - what was he going to say, anyway, no?
An odd chill slithers down Kevin’s spine. The hairs on his nape and arms prickle, and he instinctively knows someone’s watching him, all of a sudden. It’s creepy, and his hands clench into fists at his sides. Sucking in a shaky breath, he ducks his head down and starts making his way toward the door.
“Leaving? It’s still so early, Jonas.”
Kevin jerks back from William’s touch. “Uh.”
William’s mouth curves up at the corners and he says, “I like you, Jonas. There’s something delightful about you, look here.” Reaching out, he grasps Kevin’s wrist with long, soft fingers. He holds his hand up and blows lightly across his palm and a blue flame sparks to life, hovering in the air above his skin. “Wonderful chemistry, you’d make someone a very pretty familiar.”
“I’m not-”
“Oh, I know.” William leans down, cheek nearly pressing against cheek, and he whispers in Kevin’s ear, “Watch out for Efron, my friend. He shreds Lackers like you into teeny tiny pieces.” Then he straightens up and says dryly, “Zac, what a surprise. Jonas and I were just having a chat about you.”
“All good, I hope,” Efron says, grinning this wide, affable grin, and Kevin can’t see anything bad about him at all, right then - Kevin’s confused, and he just wants to go home. The worst thing about mages, as far as Kevin’s concerned, is that they all seem to love playing games.
“Of course,” William says, and the grin aimed at Efron turns malicious and frightening.
Kevin twists his wrist out of William’s hold and says, “Yeah, um, I gotta go.”
Efron tilts his head to the side. He looks a little like a cocker spaniel, curious, only one moment his eyes are narrowed and mean, and then Kevin blinks and they’re open and friendly again. “I’ll walk you out.”
“That’s okay,” Kevin says, shaking his head. Kevin thinks he can take the weres, the shape-shifters, the demigods, even the fey - it’s the mages, the magic users that freak him out the most.
William drapes an arm over Kevin’s shoulders, effectively cutting Efron out. “Come on, Jonas, we still have things to discuss.” He gives Efron a backwards wave, then tosses him a mocking, cryptic, “You’d have better luck in town, you know. Hot Topic practically breeds them.”
William steers Kevin through the crowd of teenagers, occasionally snapping his fingers when one of them looks at them askance, mouth open in question - no one bothers them, and Kevin’s definitely sure that’s all William’s doing.
“Familiars are tricky, delicate things,” William says when they reach the open door. He hangs on the jamb, eyeing Kevin speculatively. “I teach that to all my protégés, all the young folk who look up to me. Efron has this thing, though-this horribly inconvenient draining thing he does. I won’t go into it now. It’ll only give you nightmares.”
Kevin swallows hard. “I’m not a cat.” He’s pretty sure familiars are cats and frogs and ravens, not people; and certainly not a Lacker, an “Empty,” Brendon had called him when they’d first met, although his tone had been considerably less derisive than Kevin is used to from Others.
William laughs, touches the tip of his forefinger to Kevin’s nose. “How precious,” he says. “You’re prefect, you know, I’m saving you for someone special.”
Kevin doesn’t want to insult him. He wants to say thanks, but no thanks. “That’s, uh-thanks?”
“I can see you’re wary, Jonas.” William presses the four fingers and thumb of his right hand over and around Kevin’s heart, cupping it so his palm is arched away; his lips move, but he doesn’t make a sound, and Kevin feels warmth spread outward, covering his entire body. William’s skin glows, and he grins and says, “Be safe walking home.”
*
Kevin still feels the residual warmth from William’s protection spell Monday morning.
Brendon’s waiting outside of their second period math class, and he wiggles his fingers in the air around Kevin’s head. “Geez, what happened to you?” he says. “These are Beckett’s colors.”
The worrying thing, Kevin thinks, is that the magic’s hung around him so long. He knows a little bit about mages, enough to know that their spells rarely outlive their usefulness. It makes him more nervous than he’d like to admit. Kevin shrugs and hefts his school bag higher up on his shoulder. “It’s nothing,” he says.
“Right.” Brendon looks skeptical, but he doesn’t push.
Kevin sits at the back of the classroom in between Brendon and Frank, because Mr. Bass says Brendon’s too distracting to sit up front, and Kevin would rather be around a friendly face than be close enough to the board to actually pay attention. Frank comes with the territory.
When Kevin makes the mistake of glancing his way, Frank grins at him, shark-like, snapping his teeth in a mock growl; Kevin doesn’t give him the satisfaction of flinching. Kevin’s used to Frank by now - weres are the least threatening Others in the school, anyhow, and Frank’s best friend is a Lacker, so Kevin just ignores him.
Instead, he leans towards Brendon and says, voice low, “What do you know about familiars?”
Brendon arches an eyebrow. “Why?”
Kevin bites his lip. “I just-”
“Oh, wait, this makes sense now,” Brendon cuts him off. “Don’t listen to Beckett, dude, didn’t you hear what happened to Vanessa last year?”
“No,” Kevin says, and judging from Brendon’s expression, Kevin’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to hear what happened.
Brendon flips open his notebook, scribbles down a few formulas off the blackboard. Finally, he says, “Familiars don’t last, Kev, everyone knows that. You don’t want to get mixed up in that shit.”
Frank pokes Kevin in the shoulder with the end of his pencil. “Fuck, you wanna talk familiars?” he says.
Brendon leans forward and glares at him across Kevin’s desk. “No, he doesn’t.”
“Whatever.” Frank makes a face at Brendon, then brightens and cups his chin in a hand, propping his elbow up on his desk. “Look, Jonas, all you gotta know,” he says, “is that you’re fucked if a mage’s caught scent of you. You might as well not fight it.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Brendon says.
“I hear it’s like sex,” Frank goes on.
Kevin pales. He’s really regretting bringing this up in math class. He’s really regretting bringing this up at all.
“I’m telling Bob you’re torturing Kevin, Iero,” Brendon says, and that effectively shuts Frank up. He doesn’t lose the wicked grin, but he mimes zipping his mouth closed, locking it and throwing away the key.
“Kev,” Brendon says, “just stay away from Beckett. Stay away from all of them,” he wrinkles his nose, “I don’t trust magic users.”
*
Ross and Mikey pass by their table at lunchtime with a cluster of fey, and Lacey elbows the back of Brendon’s head and says, “Halfling,” with a sneer.
“I don’t know why you want anything to do with them,” Greta says, glaring after Lacey.
The tops of Brendon’s cheeks color. “I don’t.”
“You’d do anything Ross told you to do,” Singer says. He’s fidgeting in his seat, one leg bouncing. “Which, hey, I’m not gonna knock Ross, he’s pretty okay thanks to Gerard’s influence, but you know Walker’s got this whole destiny thing going on-”
“Shut up,” Brendon says. He stabs his straw into his Capri Sun so hard the juice squirts out a little over his hands. “Shut up about Walker.”
Kevin sighs, because that’s pretty standard. He’s not sure what Brendon has against Walker, besides the obvious - the few times Kevin’s run into the senior, he’s been okay to him. He’s kind of normal; Kevin hadn’t even realized he was a mage until a week ago, actually, when he’d noticed Walker talking earnestly to a small calico cat. So maybe Brendon doesn’t like Walker because he’s a magic user, and Kevin’s kind of sick of prejudices.
Bryar sits across from Kevin, plunking down a brown paper bag lunch.
Everyone stops talking to stare at him, because Bryar doesn’t sit with them. Bryar’s a Lacker, but he sits with Frank and the other weres, and when he doesn’t sit with Frank, he sits with Toro, who’s normally not even in the cafeteria - he usually spends all his free time in the music room.
“Um.” Kevin straightens up so his feet don’t accidentally bump Bryar’s under the table.
“Bob,” Brendon says, grinning. He likes to pretend he’s in good with Bryar, but Kevin doesn’t think they’ve actually spent any time together.
Bryar quirks an eyebrow at Brendon, then goes back to looking at Kevin, mouth pulled down and eyes calculating. It’s a good look for him, and Kevin swallows hard, because Bryar doesn’t have to be an Other to be intimidating.
Finally, Bryar says, “Frank’s a shithead, but he kind of has a point.”
“Uh, what?” Kevin says.
Bryar shrugs, then raps his knuckles on the table. “There’s nothing you can do about mages. Frank asked me to watch your back, though,” he says, and then he pulls out a massive sandwich and proceeds to ignore everyone at the table.
Singer looks like he’s having a heart attack. He’s making choking noises and clutching his chest.
Greta’s frowning thoughtfully, lightly tapping her nails on her Coke can, and Brendon is sucking on his teeth and swirling a plastic spoon around in his pudding cup.
It’s awkward, with no one talking. When the bell rings for the end of lunch, Kevin gets out of there as quickly as he can.
*
The only reason Kevin and his family are in DC is because a local integrated non-denominational church recruited his dad to minister for them, and because his dad thought it’d be awesome for Kevin, Joe, Nick and Frankie to get as much exposure to Others as they could. In theory, Kevin loves it. Frankie actually loves it - he comes home from kindergarten with non-stop chatter about his friend who can turn invisible; as opposed to the imaginary friend Kevin’d had for years when he was little, Joe likes to point out. Joe and Nick are both in middle school. Joe says it’s all right, and Nick comes home with busted knuckles and black eyes, but he never seems upset about it.
So in theory-in theory it’s great for all of them.
Kevin had been confident in his ability to make friends before coming here. Heck, he’d been good friends with Spencer for years before they moved. Granted, vampires are a whole different breed of Other; they’re not really solitary creatures, but there aren’t many of them left in the world, and Lackers seem to be the least offensive companions for them. Kevin’s still not exactly sure why, Spencer says it has something to do with the way Lackers smell - and, Kevin suspects, taste.
As far as Kevin can figure, there are only two vampires in his entire school.
“Victoria and Gabriel,” Spencer says when Kevin calls to complain about his complete inability to get anyone other than three band geeks to actually like him. He doesn’t know what to make of Frank and Bryar, but they certainly aren’t his friends. No, he’s basically just got Brendon, Greta and Singer. Singer spends most of his day making a fool of himself, trying to get one of the weres to notice him, Brendon just makes big eyes at Ross, and Greta-well, Greta’s a sweetheart, Kevin thinks, but he wouldn’t want to get between her and her peppermint latté.
Kevin doesn’t ask Spencer how he knows Victoria and Gabe - he figures there’s some sort of freaky vampire mind-meld or something. He’s probably better off not knowing for sure.
“Well, no one’s friendly,” Kevin tells Spencer. “It’s like having cooties, I feel like I’m in third grade all over again.”
Spencer’s quiet, just makes a small hmmm sound and there’s some tapping noises, but Kevin knows it’s not because he isn’t listening. Finally, Spencer says, “Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“I’m bored without you, anyway,” Spencer says, and Kevin can hear the shrug in his voice.
Kevin says, “Really?” and hopes, hopes, hopes that Spencer isn’t joking. He’s missed Spencer, and on top of that, he can rub it in all the Others’ faces - Kevin’s friends with a totally cool vampire, the most mysterious and rare of all Others, and maybe that’s wrong and his dad would yell at him if he ever said that out loud, but Kevin’s sick and tired of being a social outcast, it sucks.
“Yeah,” Spencer says, clearly amused, because he can probably hear what Kevin’s thinking. He’s never outright said he can do that - he claims Kevin’s just really easy to read - but Kevin has his suspicions.
“But where will you-”
“Don’t worry about it,” Spencer says. “I’ve got connections.”
Kevin doesn’t doubt it. Spencer isn’t an Old World Vampire - he’d been born and abandoned by a human - but vampires, as Spencer explains it, age the same as anyone else until they hit maturity, and then their bodies slow and their hearts barely beat and they can live for hundreds of years like that, lonely. Spencer’s only sixteen. He’s had foster families, but he’s never really needed them; vampires have weird networks and covens that Kevin barely understands. The result, though, is that Spencer may only be a teenager, but no one’s going to stop him from doing something he wants to do.
“Awesome,” Kevin says, grinning, because it is awesome.
Spencer just laughs and calls him a dork.
*
The shortest route to Kevin’s sixth period history class is past the senior hallway. Which normally wouldn’t be so bad, except sixth period is after the last lunch, so there are actual real live seniors lurking in the senior hallway at that time of day, and Kevin usually circles around through the foreign language hall and up the stairs by the auditorium, even though it takes him about five minutes longer.
He has to cut through when he’s running late, though, and it sucks, but he keeps his head down and tries not to bump into anybody.
He still manages to trip over a cat.
It’s a little calico cat with a smug, eeling tail, and Walker catches Kevin’s arm before he can fall flat on his face.
“Whoa, dude, sorry,” Walker says.
Kevin says, “Thanks,” a little breathless, then glances up and catches Walker’s smile, his eyes, and freezes. Walker’s pupils are huge. “Uh.”
“Oh. Oh,” Walker says, staring at him curiously, then he gives the cat a mocking frown, says, “You minx, you totally knew about this already, didn’t you?”
Kevin carefully tries to extricate his arm from Walker’s grip. Walker is on something, that much is apparent.
But then Walker looks at him again, slides his hand down to firmly circle Kevin’s wrist. “Clover’s a nosy ball of fur, but she’s mostly right. You might as well just come with me now.”
“I don’t-I have history?” Kevin can think of a bajillion other things he could do instead of following Jon Walker into the oblivion of the senior hall.
Walker laughs. “You do. You do, I know.” He rattles Kevin’s arm. “C’mon, it’ll be cool.”
Kevin doesn’t think it’ll be cool. The senior hallway is a dark, yawning mass of possible evil and doom. He digs his heels in and tries to decide if grabbing onto a random locker would look too desperately pathetic.
“What’s this?” Gabe looms out of nowhere, and the only reason Kevin doesn’t jump is because Spencer looms out of nowhere like that all the time, so he’s mostly used to it.
“Gabe.” Walker gives Gabe the same grin he gave Kevin, only sloppier. His grip on Kevin loosens, too, and then he’s sort of slumping back against the lockers, eyes at half-mast. “Gabe, you shit,” he slurs out, but it’s on the tail end of half a laugh.
Gabe waves a hand. “You shouldn’t take what doesn’t belong to you, Jonny Walker.”
“Not taking,” Walker manages, slowing sliding down to collapse in a boneless pile on the floor. “Borrowing, dude. Showing.”
“Ah, you’ve seen, then,” Gabe says cryptically, waggling his eyebrows, and then he clasps a strong hand over Kevin’s shoulder.
Kevin has no idea what’s going on. He’s a little freaked out, to be honest, and he hates when people talk around him, like he’s not worth having a direct conversation with. Plus, he’s never been this close to Gabe before; his eyes are dark and creepy-intense, and Kevin knows it’s not a vampire thing, because Spencer has these awesome warm blue eyes, and now Kevin’s staring up at Gabe and thinking about Spencer and Gabe grins, fangs flashing, and Kevin was so right, vampires can totally read minds.
“Spencer’s been in touch,” Gabe says. “You’re an intriguing young man, my friend.”
Kevin flicks a glance at Walker. Walker’s curled up now, snoring, with Clover perched on his thigh - she’s glaring at them, whiskers twitching. Kevin frowns and looks at Gabe again. “Not really.”
“You-” Gabe straightens up suddenly, statue-still.
“Saporta.” William saunters over with a smirk on his mouth that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Jonas really isn’t any of your business, is he?”
Kevin’s prepared for some kind of unpleasant tug-of-war, but Gabe lets go of his shoulder with only the slightest hesitation and takes a step back. He keeps his arms loose at his sides and says, “Beckett,” with a nod of his head, then turns and stalks away. Kevin’s kind of stunned.
“Bad blood,” William says to Kevin with a wide, false grin. He nudges Walker in the ribs with his shoe.
Walker snorts in his sleep and rolls over.
William sighs. Then he gives Kevin one of his speculative looks, forefinger tapping his lower lip. He says, “There’s someone I think you should meet.”
*
Kevin has seen Mike Carden around before. Mike Carden looks like he would very much like to eat Kevin’s liver.
“I should really get to history class,” Kevin says, clutching the strap of his messenger bag. He’s already missed nearly twenty minutes of the period, though, and he thinks it’s probably more trouble to try and slip in late without a note then just skip the whole class entirely.
William keeps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into his side. “Nonsense,” he says. “This is much more important.” He sweeps a hand towards where Carden is leaning hipshot against a locker in seriously tiny pants and an aggressively bedazzled belt that only seems rock star, Kevin thinks, because of the layered jean jacket and the faded Green Lantern t-shirt, and maybe the tangled fall of lank hair and his sharp, hazel eyes. “Carden, this is Jonas. He’s extremely pale.”
Kevin has no idea what that means. He shifts and looks up at William and says, “I’m pale?”
“Fresh. Pure as the driven snow,” William says, tracing fingers over the back of Kevin’s neck. “Cinderella, self-sacrificing pale, I can see all your pretty blue veins.”
“Oh, hell no, Beckett,” Carden says, arms crossed over his chest, glaring. Kevin doesn’t think he’s actually glaring at him, but only because he kind of looks like he’s trying to pretend Kevin isn’t there. Which is really fine with Kevin, actually.
“The thing is-the thing is, Carden,” William says, “Efron’s sniffing around. I wouldn’t trust that orange douchebag with an egg salad sandwich, let alone young Jonas here.”
Carden flicks a dismissive look towards Kevin. “Not my problem,” he says.
“I’d take him myself, you know, except I’m still smarting after the Saporta fiasco,” William says, and Kevin hears something brittle in his voice. He really, really wants to know what’s going on there, but he’s not about to ask.
“Uh,” Kevin straightens up, shakes off William’s light grip on his nape. “Look, I’m not sure-”
“I’m simply looking out for you, Jonas.” William’s giving him a patronizing smile, like he thinks Kevin’s an idiot, and Kevin feels frustration well up and overpower whatever nerves had been staying his feet.
“That’s nice,” Kevin says, gritting his teeth through his own grin. “Thanks, but I should get going.”
Carden snorts.
Kevin narrows his eyes at him and Carden grins. It’s a sharp grin, but Kevin feels something pleased roll over and purr in his chest. Kevin tries not to let it show on his face, but by the way Carden’s eyes turn wicked, he doesn’t think he succeeds.
William says, “Fine,” and, “I would advise against letting Efron anywhere near your person,” and the disapproving curve of his mouth says, you’re making a bad decision, but Kevin doesn’t really see any sort of decision to make.
*
When Kevin gets home, Spencer’s sitting in the middle of his bed, legs folded up, reading a magazine.
Kevin throws himself onto the mattress next to him and groans, curling over to pillow his head on Spencer’s thigh. He blinks up at him and Spencer leans over and sniffs the air around his neck.
Spencer wrinkles his nose and says, “You reek of magic. Did you roll around in a pile of mages?”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Kevin says. “Everyone at this school is insane.”
Spencer grins. He’s got bone-white fangs in a softly rounded face, wispy, baby-fine hair falling over his forehead. He smells like vanilla, underlain with the slightest metallic tang of blood - Kevin feels like he can finally relax.
Pushing his hair back, Spencer says, “A seer, Gabriel, at least one caster, your half fey, a were-” he cocks his head, “dog?” His eyes grow soft and he licks his lips. “And a girl, fifteen, Lacker.”
“Yeah,” Kevin says. It’s a thing they’ve always done - Spencer can tell just who had touched Kevin throughout the day. It used to creep him out, but he kind of gets the feeling that it helps calm whatever’s in Spencer that makes him want to suck out all of Kevin’s blood. They’ve got a deal where he doesn’t do that to Kevin. Ever.
“Cool,” Spencer says.
“Where are you staying?” Kevin asks.
“A friend’s.” Spencer tosses his magazine aside and shifts so Kevin has to sit back up.
“You can always stay here, you know. Dad loves you.” His dad really does love Spencer. He thinks he’s great, even after the whole wrist-biting incident, before they came up with their no drinking Kevin’s blood rule - William isn’t the only one who thinks Kevin has pretty blue veins. Of course, they’d both been in second grade at the time.
“It’s okay. I freak Joe out.”
“You like freaking Joe out.” Joe is ridiculous around Spencer; he’s convinced Spencer can’t resist his sweet, sweet blood, even though Spencer’s never even tried. Or, like, done anything to acknowledge Joe’s existence except occasionally making fun of his eyebrows.
“I like freaking Joe out,” Spencer agrees, nodding. “Don’t worry about me, dude.” He gently pushes Kevin out of the way and climbs off the bed, cracking his back in a stretch.
Kevin watches his shirt ride up. He’s always had a teensy crush on Spencer.
Spencer arches an eyebrow at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Kev.”
Kevin nods. It’ll be awesome; Spencer can protect him from all the people who constantly want to push him around.
“I’m not going to bite anyone for you,” Spencer says with a frown.
“Did I say that? Geez.” Kevin scratches his neck and ducks his head. He thinks about Carden and how it’d be awesome if Spencer would at least threaten to bite him, make him see that Kevin’s important to somebody. Then he notices how still Spencer is - vampires are even freakier when they freeze like that - and he looks up and sees Spencer staring at him. “What?”
Spencer opens his mouth, closes it again. He shakes his head and says, “Nothing, never mind.”
*
“There are three types of mages,” Frank tells him, sprawled low in his chair. He ticks off his fingers. “You’ve got your seers, casters and healers.”
“Right,” Kevin says. Everyone knows that. He doesn’t see how that has anything to do with familiars. Also, he’s starting to think that maybe he shouldn’t have asked Frank to explain why this whole familiar thing is such a big deal - so big a deal that he’s got Bryar following him around in between classes now. He doesn’t mind having Bryar as a shadow. He could’ve lived with the mystery.
“Right.” Frank clamps his teeth down on the end of his pen, talking around it, so his words get a little slobbery. “So the only ones you gotta worry about are casters, because seers divine through animals, like Walker, and healers use plants and shit or, like, earth magic.” He tucks one foot up to push off his desk, rocking his chair back onto two legs - he’s got mi gusta scrawled in heavy blue pen on the rubber rimming the sole of his sneaker. He says, “Spell casters like people. Specifically Lackers, but they’re not always that picky. The problem is that people aren’t really as receptive to assimilation as cats or fucking shrubbery, right.”
“Assimilation?” What is this, the Borg? Sometimes he thinks this is all just a really mean and drawn out form of hazing.
Frank shrugs. “Bonding, kind of? You lose parts of yourself; lots, if they’re not careful, to make room for whatever magic they’re shoving through you. And some of them are never careful.”
“Like Efron,” William says, sliding into the desk in front of Kevin.
“You’re stalking me, aren’t you?” Kevin asks, because William is definitely not in their sophomore Spanish class.
Frank’s hackles are up. It takes a lot to seriously rile him, but he’s at least disgruntled, Kevin can tell. He’s no longer slumped in his chair, and his jaw’s clenched, fingers tight on his pen.
William flicks his fingers at Frank and says, “Weres don’t know anything-”
“Fucking Beckett,” Frank growls, dropping his chair back onto all four legs, and William rolls his eyes.
“About mages, Iero, all your knowledge is second hand.” William turns to Kevin. “You have questions, you should come to me. Or Mike.”
“Mike doesn’t like me,” Kevin says before he can stop himself, and then he kind of wants to slam his head repeatedly into a wall - William lights up.
“Untrue,” William says brightly, grinning at him. “Mike likes you perfectly well.” The bell rings and William slides out of the seat, tipping an imaginary hat at them. “Gentlemen.”
Frank glares at his back as he walks away. “I hate that dude.”
*
The first time Spencer shows up at their lunch table, Kevin has to elbow him in the side and whisper, “Don’t be creepy with Greta, oh my god,” because Spencer totally has this infatuated leer on his face, and sometimes Spencer infatuated means lots of stalking and sniffing and sleeping with locks of hair, and Kevin loves Spencer and all his weirdo ways, but Greta will kill him.
Also, Ross and Mikey - because Ross and Mikey are attached at the hip - sit down on the other side of Spencer. Ross smiles at them benevolently, like he’s the Queen or something, greeting the unwashed masses.
“Ross is the friend you’re staying with?” Kevin asks, incredulous.
“No,” Spencer says. “We met in English,” which is weird, because as far as Kevin knows, Ross doesn’t usually make friends with anyone.
Brendon sucks on his lower lip, darting his gaze from Ross to Spencer and back again. He looks a little pissy and a lot nervous, because he’s always unsure around Ross, and Spencer’s a vampire, it’s pretty clear to anyone from the snow-white skin and severe overbite.
Ross continues to not speak to anyone, and Mikey bobs his head and mumbles, “Hey.”
Singer stares at Spencer, skin a sickly gray-green, and Kevin has to kick him under the table to get him to stop - Spencer’s used to getting stared at, he’s awesome, but it’s kind of embarrassing that these are Kevin’s friends.
Singer yelps and says, high-pitched, “Geez, what the fuck, Kevin?”
Kevin feels his cheeks heat.
Spencer smirks.
And then Bryar pulls out the chair directly across from Kevin and steals the pudding off Kevin’s tray and Brendon’s apple and fixes a steady, suspicious glare on Ross, and this is how Kevin discovers that it’s very possible that Ross is shy, and not actually a douche - Ross ducks his head and bites his lip and blushes.
Greta says, “Well, this is nice,” and then holds out a hand across the table and says to Spencer, “I’m Greta,” and her grin is serving up try something and I’ll stake your heart with a heaping side of your eyes are so dreamy, because Spencer’s eyes are dreamy, that cannot be denied.
Spencer’s pretty smooth for a teenager, he’s got all this innate vampire grace, but even he can’t pull off the whole suave kiss to the back of the hand thing - Brendon makes a face and Singer giggles.
All in all, Kevin thinks this maybe could’ve gone better.
*
“Here’s where I tell you that you’ve got some weirdo friends and that I think you should join some extracurricular activities,” Spencer says, leaning against the dirty brick wall outside the school gym. He’s got sunglasses on, even though it’s not particularly bright out. He’s not going to burst into flames, but sunlight still isn’t the best thing for his retinas. He’s even got almost all of his skin covered up - he’s gotten nasty sunburns from twilight before, Kevin’s pretty sure all his exposed parts are meticulously slathered in SPF 100. “There’s something seriously wrong with that Singer kid.”
“Singer isn’t that bad,” Kevin says.
“He has a Webkinz, and brags about his autographed picture of Celine Dion.”
Kevin screws up his face. “I don’t think-”
“It’s a pink gecko named Lars, he carries it around in his backpack all day,” Spencer says. “And what the fuck is Bryar doing?”
“Protecting me from evil magic users?” Kevin says sheepishly.
Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s like I’m a guest star on a CW show.”
Kevin can’t really argue that. “I told you.” He’d warned Spencer that this place was crazy; like Hellmouth crazy, only without all the death and destruction. Hopefully. He’s only been there about two months, so he probably shouldn’t jump to any conclusions.
“There’s something-” Spencer pauses, straightens up from the wall. His hands clench into fists, but his face is very carefully blank.
Kevin doesn’t even realize someone’s behind him until Carden says, “Mixing it up a little, Jonas?”
“Uh.” Kevin isn’t sure what he means, but it doesn’t sound nice. There’s a sneer in Carden’s voice that sets him on edge.
Carden brushes his arm as he angles in front of Kevin, and Kevin can’t help the startled hitch in his breath - a tiny spark flares against his skin, even through Kevin’s jacket and long-sleeve shirt.
“Weres, hybrids, vampires.” Carden hooks his thumbs in the very low waistband of his jeans and nods his head towards Spencer. “You’ve got eclectic taste in friends.”
Kevin totally isn’t afraid of Carden, but he’s still waiting for Spencer to jump in here, maybe loom a little and bare his teeth in a semi-threatening manner. When nothing happens, Kevin slants Spencer a slightly incredulous look. Spencer grins at him. Spencer sucks.
Kevin crosses his arms over his chest and says, “I do.”
Carden narrows his eyes. They seem eerily lit, like the reflective eyes of a cat, but Kevin’s hoping that’s just a trick of the dying afternoon light. He really doesn’t want to get sneakily cursed or something. And then Carden’s stance relaxes and he nods once, says, “Okay,” and Kevin suddenly gets the feeling he was being tested. Seriously, what had Carden been thinking? It’s not like he would or could use any of his friends for nefarious purposes.
Spencer stays tense and watchful, but Kevin can read the amusement at the corners of his mouth, the way it’s tight-lipped to keep from involuntarily smiling. He’s practically stone-faced, but he’s got tells that Kevin’s spent years memorizing - his right eyebrow is just slightly higher than the other, peaking over the rim of his sunglasses; there’s an irregularity along his bottom lip, like he’s carefully biting the inside. Kevin glares at him.
Carden clears his throat, and he’s got speculative eyes and busy fingers when Kevin looks over at him again. Busy, glowy fingers, red-orange like fire, and Kevin jerks back when Carden reaches out and slides them, burning, across the side of Kevin’s neck.
Kevin claps a hand over it with a, “Hey,” and Carden laughs.
“You’re an interesting kid,” he says.
Kevin watches, wide-eyed, as he licks his fingers - they hiss and smoke and quickly fade to their regular pale amber color, and Kevin’s skin throbs along the pulse in his neck, even though he knows that if he looked in the mirror, there wouldn’t be any marks.
“Whoa,” Spencer says when Carden finally walks away with a lazy, confident, kinda infuriating swagger. Swaggers like that are earned. Kevin’s not entirely sure how, but he suspects it has something to do with sex.
Kevin’s throat is suspiciously dry; he swallows hard and swallows again until he thinks he can talk without his voice cracking. “I can’t believe you just,” he waves his hands around, “let him do that!”
Spencer cocks his head and waits a beat and says, “You wanted him to,” and Kevin feels himself turn bright red, because Spencer is a horrible friend. Possibly the worst friend in the whole world.
“I hate you,” Kevin says.
Spencer bumps his shoulder. “Nah,” he says, amused. “C’mon, I’ll drive you home.”
continue
Mike Carden/Kevin Jonas | Take your high school AU and spin it:
William’s mouth curves up at the corners and he says, “I like you, Jonas. There’s something delightful about you, look here.” Reaching out, he grasps Kevin’s wrist with long, soft fingers. He holds his hand up and blows lightly across his palm and a blue flame sparks to life, hovering in the air above his skin. “Wonderful chemistry, you’d make someone a very pretty familiar.”
A/N: [written for starflowers, who wanted "Sexual tension! Predator!Mike! Misunderstandings! High school melodrama! Bonus points if the Panic! boys make an appearance! Or Ryan! Mikey!" - originally posted at sodamnskippy for the 2009 Christmas gift-fic exchange.] So, okay, this is completely ridiculous. I hope you like it anyway, oh mod-pal of mine. I used to think you were amazing, back in the Harry Potter fandom, and now I still think you’re amazing, but also a complete sweetheart and kind of a spaz, and that just makes me like you more. Happy holidays! I’m glad I got to write this for you :) (also, can’t forget: major, awesome thanks to insunshine for the beta!)
The Story So Far
Kevin doesn’t really know why he’s there. He thinks he’s probably the only Lacker, first of all, and even though Kevin’s always taken his dad’s teachings on tolerance to heart, the people at Kevin’s school are strangely intolerant towards him. It’s been a month, and the only Other he’s friendly with is Brendon. And Brendon’s a halfling, so to most people he doesn’t even count.
So, the party - Kevin suspects there’s a ninety-seven percent chance his invite had been a joke, but his dad found out about it, and there was no way he could not go, after that.
He breathes a small sigh of relief when he spots Brendon. There’s a moment when he catches Brendon’s eye and Brendon frowns, gaze darting to the side, and Kevin thinks great, because he knows Brendon’s going to ignore him. Brendon can’t afford to be seen with him outside of school, he gets picked on enough as it is. But then Brendon visibly shakes it off and forces a smile, cutting through the crowd toward him - people have noticed Kevin, but aside from a few weird glances, they’ve mostly left him alone.
“Wow,” Brendon says. “You should not be here at all.”
“I know,” Kevin says, nodding. He figures he’ll leave soon, anyhow. He’s been there long enough to satisfy his dad, but maybe he’ll stop by the diner in town to tack on another hour or so, just in case.
Brendon bobs his head, fingers twitching with excess energy. “Have you seen Ryan?” he asks.
Kevin gestures to where Ross is standing with Mikey Way, hips nearly touching. They’re both clearly fey; haughty eyes, bone thin bodies, sharp, pearly white teeth. Mikey’s actually been pretty nice to Kevin whenever they’ve crossed paths, but he still makes Kevin uncomfortable. Ross doesn’t usually talk. At least, he doesn’t usually talk out loud.
Ross cocks his head at Brendon when Brendon waves, eyes filled with intent, and Brendon’s cheeks heat. He says, “You’ll be okay, right?” and slips away before Kevin can answer - what was he going to say, anyway, no?
An odd chill slithers down Kevin’s spine. The hairs on his nape and arms prickle, and he instinctively knows someone’s watching him, all of a sudden. It’s creepy, and his hands clench into fists at his sides. Sucking in a shaky breath, he ducks his head down and starts making his way toward the door.
“Leaving? It’s still so early, Jonas.”
Kevin jerks back from William’s touch. “Uh.”
William’s mouth curves up at the corners and he says, “I like you, Jonas. There’s something delightful about you, look here.” Reaching out, he grasps Kevin’s wrist with long, soft fingers. He holds his hand up and blows lightly across his palm and a blue flame sparks to life, hovering in the air above his skin. “Wonderful chemistry, you’d make someone a very pretty familiar.”
“I’m not-”
“Oh, I know.” William leans down, cheek nearly pressing against cheek, and he whispers in Kevin’s ear, “Watch out for Efron, my friend. He shreds Lackers like you into teeny tiny pieces.” Then he straightens up and says dryly, “Zac, what a surprise. Jonas and I were just having a chat about you.”
“All good, I hope,” Efron says, grinning this wide, affable grin, and Kevin can’t see anything bad about him at all, right then - Kevin’s confused, and he just wants to go home. The worst thing about mages, as far as Kevin’s concerned, is that they all seem to love playing games.
“Of course,” William says, and the grin aimed at Efron turns malicious and frightening.
Kevin twists his wrist out of William’s hold and says, “Yeah, um, I gotta go.”
Efron tilts his head to the side. He looks a little like a cocker spaniel, curious, only one moment his eyes are narrowed and mean, and then Kevin blinks and they’re open and friendly again. “I’ll walk you out.”
“That’s okay,” Kevin says, shaking his head. Kevin thinks he can take the weres, the shape-shifters, the demigods, even the fey - it’s the mages, the magic users that freak him out the most.
William drapes an arm over Kevin’s shoulders, effectively cutting Efron out. “Come on, Jonas, we still have things to discuss.” He gives Efron a backwards wave, then tosses him a mocking, cryptic, “You’d have better luck in town, you know. Hot Topic practically breeds them.”
William steers Kevin through the crowd of teenagers, occasionally snapping his fingers when one of them looks at them askance, mouth open in question - no one bothers them, and Kevin’s definitely sure that’s all William’s doing.
“Familiars are tricky, delicate things,” William says when they reach the open door. He hangs on the jamb, eyeing Kevin speculatively. “I teach that to all my protégés, all the young folk who look up to me. Efron has this thing, though-this horribly inconvenient draining thing he does. I won’t go into it now. It’ll only give you nightmares.”
Kevin swallows hard. “I’m not a cat.” He’s pretty sure familiars are cats and frogs and ravens, not people; and certainly not a Lacker, an “Empty,” Brendon had called him when they’d first met, although his tone had been considerably less derisive than Kevin is used to from Others.
William laughs, touches the tip of his forefinger to Kevin’s nose. “How precious,” he says. “You’re prefect, you know, I’m saving you for someone special.”
Kevin doesn’t want to insult him. He wants to say thanks, but no thanks. “That’s, uh-thanks?”
“I can see you’re wary, Jonas.” William presses the four fingers and thumb of his right hand over and around Kevin’s heart, cupping it so his palm is arched away; his lips move, but he doesn’t make a sound, and Kevin feels warmth spread outward, covering his entire body. William’s skin glows, and he grins and says, “Be safe walking home.”
*
Kevin still feels the residual warmth from William’s protection spell Monday morning.
Brendon’s waiting outside of their second period math class, and he wiggles his fingers in the air around Kevin’s head. “Geez, what happened to you?” he says. “These are Beckett’s colors.”
The worrying thing, Kevin thinks, is that the magic’s hung around him so long. He knows a little bit about mages, enough to know that their spells rarely outlive their usefulness. It makes him more nervous than he’d like to admit. Kevin shrugs and hefts his school bag higher up on his shoulder. “It’s nothing,” he says.
“Right.” Brendon looks skeptical, but he doesn’t push.
Kevin sits at the back of the classroom in between Brendon and Frank, because Mr. Bass says Brendon’s too distracting to sit up front, and Kevin would rather be around a friendly face than be close enough to the board to actually pay attention. Frank comes with the territory.
When Kevin makes the mistake of glancing his way, Frank grins at him, shark-like, snapping his teeth in a mock growl; Kevin doesn’t give him the satisfaction of flinching. Kevin’s used to Frank by now - weres are the least threatening Others in the school, anyhow, and Frank’s best friend is a Lacker, so Kevin just ignores him.
Instead, he leans towards Brendon and says, voice low, “What do you know about familiars?”
Brendon arches an eyebrow. “Why?”
Kevin bites his lip. “I just-”
“Oh, wait, this makes sense now,” Brendon cuts him off. “Don’t listen to Beckett, dude, didn’t you hear what happened to Vanessa last year?”
“No,” Kevin says, and judging from Brendon’s expression, Kevin’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to hear what happened.
Brendon flips open his notebook, scribbles down a few formulas off the blackboard. Finally, he says, “Familiars don’t last, Kev, everyone knows that. You don’t want to get mixed up in that shit.”
Frank pokes Kevin in the shoulder with the end of his pencil. “Fuck, you wanna talk familiars?” he says.
Brendon leans forward and glares at him across Kevin’s desk. “No, he doesn’t.”
“Whatever.” Frank makes a face at Brendon, then brightens and cups his chin in a hand, propping his elbow up on his desk. “Look, Jonas, all you gotta know,” he says, “is that you’re fucked if a mage’s caught scent of you. You might as well not fight it.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Brendon says.
“I hear it’s like sex,” Frank goes on.
Kevin pales. He’s really regretting bringing this up in math class. He’s really regretting bringing this up at all.
“I’m telling Bob you’re torturing Kevin, Iero,” Brendon says, and that effectively shuts Frank up. He doesn’t lose the wicked grin, but he mimes zipping his mouth closed, locking it and throwing away the key.
“Kev,” Brendon says, “just stay away from Beckett. Stay away from all of them,” he wrinkles his nose, “I don’t trust magic users.”
*
Ross and Mikey pass by their table at lunchtime with a cluster of fey, and Lacey elbows the back of Brendon’s head and says, “Halfling,” with a sneer.
“I don’t know why you want anything to do with them,” Greta says, glaring after Lacey.
The tops of Brendon’s cheeks color. “I don’t.”
“You’d do anything Ross told you to do,” Singer says. He’s fidgeting in his seat, one leg bouncing. “Which, hey, I’m not gonna knock Ross, he’s pretty okay thanks to Gerard’s influence, but you know Walker’s got this whole destiny thing going on-”
“Shut up,” Brendon says. He stabs his straw into his Capri Sun so hard the juice squirts out a little over his hands. “Shut up about Walker.”
Kevin sighs, because that’s pretty standard. He’s not sure what Brendon has against Walker, besides the obvious - the few times Kevin’s run into the senior, he’s been okay to him. He’s kind of normal; Kevin hadn’t even realized he was a mage until a week ago, actually, when he’d noticed Walker talking earnestly to a small calico cat. So maybe Brendon doesn’t like Walker because he’s a magic user, and Kevin’s kind of sick of prejudices.
Bryar sits across from Kevin, plunking down a brown paper bag lunch.
Everyone stops talking to stare at him, because Bryar doesn’t sit with them. Bryar’s a Lacker, but he sits with Frank and the other weres, and when he doesn’t sit with Frank, he sits with Toro, who’s normally not even in the cafeteria - he usually spends all his free time in the music room.
“Um.” Kevin straightens up so his feet don’t accidentally bump Bryar’s under the table.
“Bob,” Brendon says, grinning. He likes to pretend he’s in good with Bryar, but Kevin doesn’t think they’ve actually spent any time together.
Bryar quirks an eyebrow at Brendon, then goes back to looking at Kevin, mouth pulled down and eyes calculating. It’s a good look for him, and Kevin swallows hard, because Bryar doesn’t have to be an Other to be intimidating.
Finally, Bryar says, “Frank’s a shithead, but he kind of has a point.”
“Uh, what?” Kevin says.
Bryar shrugs, then raps his knuckles on the table. “There’s nothing you can do about mages. Frank asked me to watch your back, though,” he says, and then he pulls out a massive sandwich and proceeds to ignore everyone at the table.
Singer looks like he’s having a heart attack. He’s making choking noises and clutching his chest.
Greta’s frowning thoughtfully, lightly tapping her nails on her Coke can, and Brendon is sucking on his teeth and swirling a plastic spoon around in his pudding cup.
It’s awkward, with no one talking. When the bell rings for the end of lunch, Kevin gets out of there as quickly as he can.
*
The only reason Kevin and his family are in DC is because a local integrated non-denominational church recruited his dad to minister for them, and because his dad thought it’d be awesome for Kevin, Joe, Nick and Frankie to get as much exposure to Others as they could. In theory, Kevin loves it. Frankie actually loves it - he comes home from kindergarten with non-stop chatter about his friend who can turn invisible; as opposed to the imaginary friend Kevin’d had for years when he was little, Joe likes to point out. Joe and Nick are both in middle school. Joe says it’s all right, and Nick comes home with busted knuckles and black eyes, but he never seems upset about it.
So in theory-in theory it’s great for all of them.
Kevin had been confident in his ability to make friends before coming here. Heck, he’d been good friends with Spencer for years before they moved. Granted, vampires are a whole different breed of Other; they’re not really solitary creatures, but there aren’t many of them left in the world, and Lackers seem to be the least offensive companions for them. Kevin’s still not exactly sure why, Spencer says it has something to do with the way Lackers smell - and, Kevin suspects, taste.
As far as Kevin can figure, there are only two vampires in his entire school.
“Victoria and Gabriel,” Spencer says when Kevin calls to complain about his complete inability to get anyone other than three band geeks to actually like him. He doesn’t know what to make of Frank and Bryar, but they certainly aren’t his friends. No, he’s basically just got Brendon, Greta and Singer. Singer spends most of his day making a fool of himself, trying to get one of the weres to notice him, Brendon just makes big eyes at Ross, and Greta-well, Greta’s a sweetheart, Kevin thinks, but he wouldn’t want to get between her and her peppermint latté.
Kevin doesn’t ask Spencer how he knows Victoria and Gabe - he figures there’s some sort of freaky vampire mind-meld or something. He’s probably better off not knowing for sure.
“Well, no one’s friendly,” Kevin tells Spencer. “It’s like having cooties, I feel like I’m in third grade all over again.”
Spencer’s quiet, just makes a small hmmm sound and there’s some tapping noises, but Kevin knows it’s not because he isn’t listening. Finally, Spencer says, “Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“I’m bored without you, anyway,” Spencer says, and Kevin can hear the shrug in his voice.
Kevin says, “Really?” and hopes, hopes, hopes that Spencer isn’t joking. He’s missed Spencer, and on top of that, he can rub it in all the Others’ faces - Kevin’s friends with a totally cool vampire, the most mysterious and rare of all Others, and maybe that’s wrong and his dad would yell at him if he ever said that out loud, but Kevin’s sick and tired of being a social outcast, it sucks.
“Yeah,” Spencer says, clearly amused, because he can probably hear what Kevin’s thinking. He’s never outright said he can do that - he claims Kevin’s just really easy to read - but Kevin has his suspicions.
“But where will you-”
“Don’t worry about it,” Spencer says. “I’ve got connections.”
Kevin doesn’t doubt it. Spencer isn’t an Old World Vampire - he’d been born and abandoned by a human - but vampires, as Spencer explains it, age the same as anyone else until they hit maturity, and then their bodies slow and their hearts barely beat and they can live for hundreds of years like that, lonely. Spencer’s only sixteen. He’s had foster families, but he’s never really needed them; vampires have weird networks and covens that Kevin barely understands. The result, though, is that Spencer may only be a teenager, but no one’s going to stop him from doing something he wants to do.
“Awesome,” Kevin says, grinning, because it is awesome.
Spencer just laughs and calls him a dork.
*
The shortest route to Kevin’s sixth period history class is past the senior hallway. Which normally wouldn’t be so bad, except sixth period is after the last lunch, so there are actual real live seniors lurking in the senior hallway at that time of day, and Kevin usually circles around through the foreign language hall and up the stairs by the auditorium, even though it takes him about five minutes longer.
He has to cut through when he’s running late, though, and it sucks, but he keeps his head down and tries not to bump into anybody.
He still manages to trip over a cat.
It’s a little calico cat with a smug, eeling tail, and Walker catches Kevin’s arm before he can fall flat on his face.
“Whoa, dude, sorry,” Walker says.
Kevin says, “Thanks,” a little breathless, then glances up and catches Walker’s smile, his eyes, and freezes. Walker’s pupils are huge. “Uh.”
“Oh. Oh,” Walker says, staring at him curiously, then he gives the cat a mocking frown, says, “You minx, you totally knew about this already, didn’t you?”
Kevin carefully tries to extricate his arm from Walker’s grip. Walker is on something, that much is apparent.
But then Walker looks at him again, slides his hand down to firmly circle Kevin’s wrist. “Clover’s a nosy ball of fur, but she’s mostly right. You might as well just come with me now.”
“I don’t-I have history?” Kevin can think of a bajillion other things he could do instead of following Jon Walker into the oblivion of the senior hall.
Walker laughs. “You do. You do, I know.” He rattles Kevin’s arm. “C’mon, it’ll be cool.”
Kevin doesn’t think it’ll be cool. The senior hallway is a dark, yawning mass of possible evil and doom. He digs his heels in and tries to decide if grabbing onto a random locker would look too desperately pathetic.
“What’s this?” Gabe looms out of nowhere, and the only reason Kevin doesn’t jump is because Spencer looms out of nowhere like that all the time, so he’s mostly used to it.
“Gabe.” Walker gives Gabe the same grin he gave Kevin, only sloppier. His grip on Kevin loosens, too, and then he’s sort of slumping back against the lockers, eyes at half-mast. “Gabe, you shit,” he slurs out, but it’s on the tail end of half a laugh.
Gabe waves a hand. “You shouldn’t take what doesn’t belong to you, Jonny Walker.”
“Not taking,” Walker manages, slowing sliding down to collapse in a boneless pile on the floor. “Borrowing, dude. Showing.”
“Ah, you’ve seen, then,” Gabe says cryptically, waggling his eyebrows, and then he clasps a strong hand over Kevin’s shoulder.
Kevin has no idea what’s going on. He’s a little freaked out, to be honest, and he hates when people talk around him, like he’s not worth having a direct conversation with. Plus, he’s never been this close to Gabe before; his eyes are dark and creepy-intense, and Kevin knows it’s not a vampire thing, because Spencer has these awesome warm blue eyes, and now Kevin’s staring up at Gabe and thinking about Spencer and Gabe grins, fangs flashing, and Kevin was so right, vampires can totally read minds.
“Spencer’s been in touch,” Gabe says. “You’re an intriguing young man, my friend.”
Kevin flicks a glance at Walker. Walker’s curled up now, snoring, with Clover perched on his thigh - she’s glaring at them, whiskers twitching. Kevin frowns and looks at Gabe again. “Not really.”
“You-” Gabe straightens up suddenly, statue-still.
“Saporta.” William saunters over with a smirk on his mouth that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Jonas really isn’t any of your business, is he?”
Kevin’s prepared for some kind of unpleasant tug-of-war, but Gabe lets go of his shoulder with only the slightest hesitation and takes a step back. He keeps his arms loose at his sides and says, “Beckett,” with a nod of his head, then turns and stalks away. Kevin’s kind of stunned.
“Bad blood,” William says to Kevin with a wide, false grin. He nudges Walker in the ribs with his shoe.
Walker snorts in his sleep and rolls over.
William sighs. Then he gives Kevin one of his speculative looks, forefinger tapping his lower lip. He says, “There’s someone I think you should meet.”
*
Kevin has seen Mike Carden around before. Mike Carden looks like he would very much like to eat Kevin’s liver.
“I should really get to history class,” Kevin says, clutching the strap of his messenger bag. He’s already missed nearly twenty minutes of the period, though, and he thinks it’s probably more trouble to try and slip in late without a note then just skip the whole class entirely.
William keeps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into his side. “Nonsense,” he says. “This is much more important.” He sweeps a hand towards where Carden is leaning hipshot against a locker in seriously tiny pants and an aggressively bedazzled belt that only seems rock star, Kevin thinks, because of the layered jean jacket and the faded Green Lantern t-shirt, and maybe the tangled fall of lank hair and his sharp, hazel eyes. “Carden, this is Jonas. He’s extremely pale.”
Kevin has no idea what that means. He shifts and looks up at William and says, “I’m pale?”
“Fresh. Pure as the driven snow,” William says, tracing fingers over the back of Kevin’s neck. “Cinderella, self-sacrificing pale, I can see all your pretty blue veins.”
“Oh, hell no, Beckett,” Carden says, arms crossed over his chest, glaring. Kevin doesn’t think he’s actually glaring at him, but only because he kind of looks like he’s trying to pretend Kevin isn’t there. Which is really fine with Kevin, actually.
“The thing is-the thing is, Carden,” William says, “Efron’s sniffing around. I wouldn’t trust that orange douchebag with an egg salad sandwich, let alone young Jonas here.”
Carden flicks a dismissive look towards Kevin. “Not my problem,” he says.
“I’d take him myself, you know, except I’m still smarting after the Saporta fiasco,” William says, and Kevin hears something brittle in his voice. He really, really wants to know what’s going on there, but he’s not about to ask.
“Uh,” Kevin straightens up, shakes off William’s light grip on his nape. “Look, I’m not sure-”
“I’m simply looking out for you, Jonas.” William’s giving him a patronizing smile, like he thinks Kevin’s an idiot, and Kevin feels frustration well up and overpower whatever nerves had been staying his feet.
“That’s nice,” Kevin says, gritting his teeth through his own grin. “Thanks, but I should get going.”
Carden snorts.
Kevin narrows his eyes at him and Carden grins. It’s a sharp grin, but Kevin feels something pleased roll over and purr in his chest. Kevin tries not to let it show on his face, but by the way Carden’s eyes turn wicked, he doesn’t think he succeeds.
William says, “Fine,” and, “I would advise against letting Efron anywhere near your person,” and the disapproving curve of his mouth says, you’re making a bad decision, but Kevin doesn’t really see any sort of decision to make.
*
When Kevin gets home, Spencer’s sitting in the middle of his bed, legs folded up, reading a magazine.
Kevin throws himself onto the mattress next to him and groans, curling over to pillow his head on Spencer’s thigh. He blinks up at him and Spencer leans over and sniffs the air around his neck.
Spencer wrinkles his nose and says, “You reek of magic. Did you roll around in a pile of mages?”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Kevin says. “Everyone at this school is insane.”
Spencer grins. He’s got bone-white fangs in a softly rounded face, wispy, baby-fine hair falling over his forehead. He smells like vanilla, underlain with the slightest metallic tang of blood - Kevin feels like he can finally relax.
Pushing his hair back, Spencer says, “A seer, Gabriel, at least one caster, your half fey, a were-” he cocks his head, “dog?” His eyes grow soft and he licks his lips. “And a girl, fifteen, Lacker.”
“Yeah,” Kevin says. It’s a thing they’ve always done - Spencer can tell just who had touched Kevin throughout the day. It used to creep him out, but he kind of gets the feeling that it helps calm whatever’s in Spencer that makes him want to suck out all of Kevin’s blood. They’ve got a deal where he doesn’t do that to Kevin. Ever.
“Cool,” Spencer says.
“Where are you staying?” Kevin asks.
“A friend’s.” Spencer tosses his magazine aside and shifts so Kevin has to sit back up.
“You can always stay here, you know. Dad loves you.” His dad really does love Spencer. He thinks he’s great, even after the whole wrist-biting incident, before they came up with their no drinking Kevin’s blood rule - William isn’t the only one who thinks Kevin has pretty blue veins. Of course, they’d both been in second grade at the time.
“It’s okay. I freak Joe out.”
“You like freaking Joe out.” Joe is ridiculous around Spencer; he’s convinced Spencer can’t resist his sweet, sweet blood, even though Spencer’s never even tried. Or, like, done anything to acknowledge Joe’s existence except occasionally making fun of his eyebrows.
“I like freaking Joe out,” Spencer agrees, nodding. “Don’t worry about me, dude.” He gently pushes Kevin out of the way and climbs off the bed, cracking his back in a stretch.
Kevin watches his shirt ride up. He’s always had a teensy crush on Spencer.
Spencer arches an eyebrow at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Kev.”
Kevin nods. It’ll be awesome; Spencer can protect him from all the people who constantly want to push him around.
“I’m not going to bite anyone for you,” Spencer says with a frown.
“Did I say that? Geez.” Kevin scratches his neck and ducks his head. He thinks about Carden and how it’d be awesome if Spencer would at least threaten to bite him, make him see that Kevin’s important to somebody. Then he notices how still Spencer is - vampires are even freakier when they freeze like that - and he looks up and sees Spencer staring at him. “What?”
Spencer opens his mouth, closes it again. He shakes his head and says, “Nothing, never mind.”
*
“There are three types of mages,” Frank tells him, sprawled low in his chair. He ticks off his fingers. “You’ve got your seers, casters and healers.”
“Right,” Kevin says. Everyone knows that. He doesn’t see how that has anything to do with familiars. Also, he’s starting to think that maybe he shouldn’t have asked Frank to explain why this whole familiar thing is such a big deal - so big a deal that he’s got Bryar following him around in between classes now. He doesn’t mind having Bryar as a shadow. He could’ve lived with the mystery.
“Right.” Frank clamps his teeth down on the end of his pen, talking around it, so his words get a little slobbery. “So the only ones you gotta worry about are casters, because seers divine through animals, like Walker, and healers use plants and shit or, like, earth magic.” He tucks one foot up to push off his desk, rocking his chair back onto two legs - he’s got mi gusta scrawled in heavy blue pen on the rubber rimming the sole of his sneaker. He says, “Spell casters like people. Specifically Lackers, but they’re not always that picky. The problem is that people aren’t really as receptive to assimilation as cats or fucking shrubbery, right.”
“Assimilation?” What is this, the Borg? Sometimes he thinks this is all just a really mean and drawn out form of hazing.
Frank shrugs. “Bonding, kind of? You lose parts of yourself; lots, if they’re not careful, to make room for whatever magic they’re shoving through you. And some of them are never careful.”
“Like Efron,” William says, sliding into the desk in front of Kevin.
“You’re stalking me, aren’t you?” Kevin asks, because William is definitely not in their sophomore Spanish class.
Frank’s hackles are up. It takes a lot to seriously rile him, but he’s at least disgruntled, Kevin can tell. He’s no longer slumped in his chair, and his jaw’s clenched, fingers tight on his pen.
William flicks his fingers at Frank and says, “Weres don’t know anything-”
“Fucking Beckett,” Frank growls, dropping his chair back onto all four legs, and William rolls his eyes.
“About mages, Iero, all your knowledge is second hand.” William turns to Kevin. “You have questions, you should come to me. Or Mike.”
“Mike doesn’t like me,” Kevin says before he can stop himself, and then he kind of wants to slam his head repeatedly into a wall - William lights up.
“Untrue,” William says brightly, grinning at him. “Mike likes you perfectly well.” The bell rings and William slides out of the seat, tipping an imaginary hat at them. “Gentlemen.”
Frank glares at his back as he walks away. “I hate that dude.”
*
The first time Spencer shows up at their lunch table, Kevin has to elbow him in the side and whisper, “Don’t be creepy with Greta, oh my god,” because Spencer totally has this infatuated leer on his face, and sometimes Spencer infatuated means lots of stalking and sniffing and sleeping with locks of hair, and Kevin loves Spencer and all his weirdo ways, but Greta will kill him.
Also, Ross and Mikey - because Ross and Mikey are attached at the hip - sit down on the other side of Spencer. Ross smiles at them benevolently, like he’s the Queen or something, greeting the unwashed masses.
“Ross is the friend you’re staying with?” Kevin asks, incredulous.
“No,” Spencer says. “We met in English,” which is weird, because as far as Kevin knows, Ross doesn’t usually make friends with anyone.
Brendon sucks on his lower lip, darting his gaze from Ross to Spencer and back again. He looks a little pissy and a lot nervous, because he’s always unsure around Ross, and Spencer’s a vampire, it’s pretty clear to anyone from the snow-white skin and severe overbite.
Ross continues to not speak to anyone, and Mikey bobs his head and mumbles, “Hey.”
Singer stares at Spencer, skin a sickly gray-green, and Kevin has to kick him under the table to get him to stop - Spencer’s used to getting stared at, he’s awesome, but it’s kind of embarrassing that these are Kevin’s friends.
Singer yelps and says, high-pitched, “Geez, what the fuck, Kevin?”
Kevin feels his cheeks heat.
Spencer smirks.
And then Bryar pulls out the chair directly across from Kevin and steals the pudding off Kevin’s tray and Brendon’s apple and fixes a steady, suspicious glare on Ross, and this is how Kevin discovers that it’s very possible that Ross is shy, and not actually a douche - Ross ducks his head and bites his lip and blushes.
Greta says, “Well, this is nice,” and then holds out a hand across the table and says to Spencer, “I’m Greta,” and her grin is serving up try something and I’ll stake your heart with a heaping side of your eyes are so dreamy, because Spencer’s eyes are dreamy, that cannot be denied.
Spencer’s pretty smooth for a teenager, he’s got all this innate vampire grace, but even he can’t pull off the whole suave kiss to the back of the hand thing - Brendon makes a face and Singer giggles.
All in all, Kevin thinks this maybe could’ve gone better.
*
“Here’s where I tell you that you’ve got some weirdo friends and that I think you should join some extracurricular activities,” Spencer says, leaning against the dirty brick wall outside the school gym. He’s got sunglasses on, even though it’s not particularly bright out. He’s not going to burst into flames, but sunlight still isn’t the best thing for his retinas. He’s even got almost all of his skin covered up - he’s gotten nasty sunburns from twilight before, Kevin’s pretty sure all his exposed parts are meticulously slathered in SPF 100. “There’s something seriously wrong with that Singer kid.”
“Singer isn’t that bad,” Kevin says.
“He has a Webkinz, and brags about his autographed picture of Celine Dion.”
Kevin screws up his face. “I don’t think-”
“It’s a pink gecko named Lars, he carries it around in his backpack all day,” Spencer says. “And what the fuck is Bryar doing?”
“Protecting me from evil magic users?” Kevin says sheepishly.
Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s like I’m a guest star on a CW show.”
Kevin can’t really argue that. “I told you.” He’d warned Spencer that this place was crazy; like Hellmouth crazy, only without all the death and destruction. Hopefully. He’s only been there about two months, so he probably shouldn’t jump to any conclusions.
“There’s something-” Spencer pauses, straightens up from the wall. His hands clench into fists, but his face is very carefully blank.
Kevin doesn’t even realize someone’s behind him until Carden says, “Mixing it up a little, Jonas?”
“Uh.” Kevin isn’t sure what he means, but it doesn’t sound nice. There’s a sneer in Carden’s voice that sets him on edge.
Carden brushes his arm as he angles in front of Kevin, and Kevin can’t help the startled hitch in his breath - a tiny spark flares against his skin, even through Kevin’s jacket and long-sleeve shirt.
“Weres, hybrids, vampires.” Carden hooks his thumbs in the very low waistband of his jeans and nods his head towards Spencer. “You’ve got eclectic taste in friends.”
Kevin totally isn’t afraid of Carden, but he’s still waiting for Spencer to jump in here, maybe loom a little and bare his teeth in a semi-threatening manner. When nothing happens, Kevin slants Spencer a slightly incredulous look. Spencer grins at him. Spencer sucks.
Kevin crosses his arms over his chest and says, “I do.”
Carden narrows his eyes. They seem eerily lit, like the reflective eyes of a cat, but Kevin’s hoping that’s just a trick of the dying afternoon light. He really doesn’t want to get sneakily cursed or something. And then Carden’s stance relaxes and he nods once, says, “Okay,” and Kevin suddenly gets the feeling he was being tested. Seriously, what had Carden been thinking? It’s not like he would or could use any of his friends for nefarious purposes.
Spencer stays tense and watchful, but Kevin can read the amusement at the corners of his mouth, the way it’s tight-lipped to keep from involuntarily smiling. He’s practically stone-faced, but he’s got tells that Kevin’s spent years memorizing - his right eyebrow is just slightly higher than the other, peaking over the rim of his sunglasses; there’s an irregularity along his bottom lip, like he’s carefully biting the inside. Kevin glares at him.
Carden clears his throat, and he’s got speculative eyes and busy fingers when Kevin looks over at him again. Busy, glowy fingers, red-orange like fire, and Kevin jerks back when Carden reaches out and slides them, burning, across the side of Kevin’s neck.
Kevin claps a hand over it with a, “Hey,” and Carden laughs.
“You’re an interesting kid,” he says.
Kevin watches, wide-eyed, as he licks his fingers - they hiss and smoke and quickly fade to their regular pale amber color, and Kevin’s skin throbs along the pulse in his neck, even though he knows that if he looked in the mirror, there wouldn’t be any marks.
“Whoa,” Spencer says when Carden finally walks away with a lazy, confident, kinda infuriating swagger. Swaggers like that are earned. Kevin’s not entirely sure how, but he suspects it has something to do with sex.
Kevin’s throat is suspiciously dry; he swallows hard and swallows again until he thinks he can talk without his voice cracking. “I can’t believe you just,” he waves his hands around, “let him do that!”
Spencer cocks his head and waits a beat and says, “You wanted him to,” and Kevin feels himself turn bright red, because Spencer is a horrible friend. Possibly the worst friend in the whole world.
“I hate you,” Kevin says.
Spencer bumps his shoulder. “Nah,” he says, amused. “C’mon, I’ll drive you home.”
continue