Heterosexual
✧☽ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴏᴇʀ ☾✧
"You never have to prove yourself to anyone who doesn't accept you for who you are."
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Post by ✧☽ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴏᴇʀ ☾✧ on Apr 6, 2020 1:49:02 GMT -5
Misfits, Part 1
"Staring back in time: The two of us, intertwined And your black boots Walking fast next to mine We were chasing the thunder inside the storm Running so wild outside the norm And what remains: The two of us, against the grain
Come out, come out, wherever you are I know you're there, I know you are
They called us crazy cause we never fit in We never bothered keeping up with their trends It didn't matter that we weren't on the list Cause we were misfits, we were misfits"
Aged 10; spy mission into Genevieve's office during a big storm to steal back Seth's sketchbook. Seth jolted awake, the echo of the thunder still reverberating through his room. The water glass on his nightstand was shaking, the water within it sloshing about. At first he saw only the silhouette of it, but in the next second it became clear as day as lightning brightened the room.
Thunder boomed again, louder than before, and Seth rolled over with a groan, pillow pressed to his head. He started to slide back into sleep when he suddenly became aware of… something. Seth went perfectly still. He waited, counting the seconds, and with the next flash of lightning he sat up and threw his pillow at the figure standing at the foot of his bed.
The person let out a loud "OMPF!" and toppled backward as if he'd been hit with a hammer rather than a pillow. Had the familiar voice not already told Seth who it was, the theatrics would have given him away for sure.
Seth heaved a sigh. "Morgan, you stupid dork. What are you doing in here?"
Silence answered him. He waited a beat, then sighed again before kicking himself free of the covers. He crawled to the foot of his big bed, flopped down on his stomach, and propped his cheek on his fist. Then he just stared down at his friend as the dork played dead.
At any other time, Seth probably would have beaten Morgan in their patience game. But it was the middle of the night, there was a crazy thunderstorm raging outside, and Seth found he kept nodding off. He had to wonder if the reason Morgan hadn't moved was because he had fallen asleep himself.
Seth would have been content to leave him there all night, but his curiosity was keeping him awake. So with a grumble, he reached behind him to grab another pillow and swung it around and down at his friend. The pillow hit Morgan square in the stomach, causing him to sit up suddenly with an "Oof!"
Seth snickered, but the sound cut off abruptly as Morgan suddenly grabbed his arm and yanked him head first off the bed. He landed half on Morgan, half on the floor. The floor hurt; Morgan let out a very satisfying yelp that was rightly deserved. Seth rolled off Morgan, grabbed a pillow, and whacked his friend once again.
This time, Morgan snatched his own pillow and hit him back, laughing. This started a pillow fight-slash-wrestling match that only ended when Seth finally rolled away, both pillows clutched to his chest. "Okay, okay!" he said breathlessly. "Stop that." He slapped Morgan's hand away when he tried to tickle Seth into a round two. "Quit being a weirdo and tell me what you're doing here."
Morgan bolted upright like a mummy popping out of his sarcophagus. "Oh, damn, I almost forgot!" He turned to Seth and adopted a serious expression. Seth mentally started his countdown. "I'm ready for our next adventure," he said gallantly. "A rescue mission of epic proportions."
Seth blinked once, slowly. When Morgan didn't elaborate, Seth said, "Ooookay. Who is she, and what have you done to her?"
Morgan looked affronted, bringing Seth's silent count to a stop at twenty-eight. Not Morgan's best time, but far from his worst. "Hey, we're not rescuing her for me. She's your lost love, stupid!"
Now Seth was really confused. The best response he could come up with was, "Heh?"
Morgan snickered. "Nice. Clearly you're not a morning person."
Seth glared. "I am too. Just not at freaking three o'clock in the morning. So talk straight, or I will hit you with my pillow again."
Morgan pretended to consider those options, until Seth brandished one of his pillows. Morgan ducked away with a low laugh, hands raised in surrender. "Alright, alright!" He chuckled again, and this time when he turned serious, Seth perked up and listened.
Morgan met Seth's gaze. "Your sketchbook, Seth. We're going after your sketchbook."
~ • ~ • ~
For a moment, Morgan wished he had Seth's skill with a pencil. Then he could capture forever on paper the look on Seth's face as he registered what Morgan had just told him.
Then the moment passed. Drawing took way too much time and effort. Morgan was always astonished when he found Seth, hours into a drawing and completely unaware of how long he had been at it. Seth was such a ball of energy, like Morgan himself, and yet when he sat down with his sketchbook and pencils… well. Morgan still to this day could not figure out where Seth stored all his energy when drawing. Morgan had certainly never been able to calm his own fidgety behaviour when forced to sit still.
Seth finally remembered how to speak. "Are you out of your mind?" He had dropped his voice to a harsh whisper, which Morgan found amusing considering they hadn't left the bedroom yet. "Genevieve has my sketchbook. We can't just —"
Morgan held up one hand. "Correction: she took your sketchbook. Quite unjustly, too."
Seth shook his head. "It was my fault. I shouldn't have been drawing in class."
"Oh, screw that logic! You were done! Completely and utterly done! What else were you expected to do while waiting for everyone else to finish? Sit there twiddling your thumbs? She seriously needs to stop harking on you to quit drawing. I mean, who else is she going to get to design all her fancy new armor?"
Seth was wearing that expression again, the one he got when Morgan went off on a tangent about Genevieve and her ill treatment of her only son. It was a strange combination of gratitude, confusion, and amusement, and it always managed to make Morgan feel self-conscious when little else could.
Finally, Seth shook his head, a smile fighting it's way onto his face. It made Morgan wonder, not for the first time, why Seth was always trying not to smile. He had a nice smile, when he let it out. As far as Morgan could gather, Seth avoided smiling because of his mother. Genevieve, not the woman called Cresseida he had heard so much about from Seth. Even after almost three years, Morgan still tripped up in his head and called Genevieve Seth's mother, even though Seth himself never referred to her as anything but "Genevieve." The title Mother was reserved for the woman who raised him.
"I take it you know where it is, then?" Seth asked, bringing Morgan's thoughts back to the task at hand. "My sketchbook?" he prompted when Morgan didn't immediately respond.
Morgan jerked upright and saluted. Seth gave him a look that said he really was a dork, but Morgan just grinned. "Aye, aye, Captain! The sketchbook is secured in the siren's office. Easy pickings, right, sir?"
Seth's blank expression was good. Very, very good. If Morgan didn't know him so well, he wouldn't have been able to see the amusement trying to light up his eyes, or the very faint twitching around his lips that hinted at a suppressed smile. Morgan's grin widened. He was very proud of his skill in making Seth laugh, even if it was only on the inside.
Seth's mask finally cracked and he let out a low chuckle. "Alright, fine." He got to his feet and tossed his pillows back onto his bed. Then he held out a hand and pulled Morgan to his feet. "Let's go get my fair lady."
Morgan raised both fists triumphantly. "HOORAH! That's what I'm talking about!"
Seth rolled his eyes at that. He unceremoniously shoved Morgan backward onto the mattress before disappearing into his closet to change. Morgan just tucked his hands behind his head and settled in to wait.
~ • ~ • ~
Seth emerged a short time later wearing all black. Morgan was already dressed similarly, with one bright exception: the vivid blue scarf Morgan wore on his wrist.
Seth had never seen Morgan without it. It was worn in a different fashion almost every day, but it was always present, even when you couldn't see it. Sometimes Morgan wore it as a bracelet, as he was now, with it twisted up tight so it looked more like a cloth cord than a scarf. Other times he wore it as a belt, or a headband, or a bandana; in colder weather he may actually use it like a scarf or, if he was feeling particularly peculiar, like a women's shawl.
Seth had never asked, but he assumed it had belonged to Morgan's mother. Morgan didn't talk about her much, and when he did it was to mention her in an off-hand way. It was weird. Seth didn't think Morgan wanted to keep his mother a secret, yet it always struck Seth as a delicate subject that Morgan would prefer to avoid. So Seth never asked, though he would sometimes bring up topics that often led to Morgan bringing her up himself.
"Alright, sleepyhead, I'm ready."
Morgan sat up too fast to suggest real sleep. "Excellent." He looked Seth over with a critical eye. "I finally have the Watson to my Holmes. The Bonnie to my Clyde. The Ying to my Yang. The —"
Seth crossed his arms. "Are you quite done? And what happened to me being your captain?"
Morgan waved that off. "Oh, that's old news. We're on to new things!" He hopped up off the bed as if there were loaded springs under his butt and slunk toward the door. "Let the adventure begin!" he said in his most dramatic stage whisper. Then he opened the door just enough, slid out like a snake, and shut it behind him.
Seth had counted up to seventeen before Morgan suddenly returned, eyes wide as he peered around the door at Seth. "Are you coming or what?"
Seth grinned. "Sure. I just wanted to see how long it took you to notice I wasn't behind you."
Morgan huffed. "No time for that. The witching hour is nigh. It's time to go." He ducked back out into the common room.
Seth paused in the doorway, brow furrowed. "The witching hour? What the heck does that have to do with anything? Morgan? Hey! Wait for me!" Morgan was already slinking out into the hall; Seth hurried to catch up, pausing only to shut his bedroom door behind him.
By the time he caught up, Morgan was already making his way stealthily down the hall. Seth fell in beside him. He made sure to silence his footsteps, but he didn't bother slinking along the walls like Morgan was. If they were caught, what Morgan was doing would instantly draw suspicions. Seth may receive curiosity, but a quick and convincing lie would let him off. Morgan knew this, of course, but his love for the dramatic would keep him against that wall for a good while yet, so Seth didn't try to dissuade him. Besides, watching him was hilarious.
Especially when he hit his head on one of the torch braziers lining the wall. For the third time.
The newest bong, followed by a muffled "ow" finally made Seth chuckle. As if that was what he had been waiting for, Morgan stepped away from the wall, rubbing his forehead.
"Ow," he said again. "Why do we have those things again?"
"Because Genevieve is sentimental and doesn't want to get rid of them?"
Morgan considered that. "Okay, I can agree with the second part. Obviously." He waved his hand at the next brazier they passed. "But I don't think sentimentality has anything to do with it."
Seth could only shrug in response. Genevieve may have been the woman who brought him into this world, but Seth was no closer now to understanding her or the reasons behind the things she did than he was five years ago. She was a puzzle, and if there was one thing Seth had learned about her, it was that she liked it that way.
Morgan said no more as they reached the stairs and started down, quickly and quietly. The storm still raging outside was louder here, the wall of windows on either side of the front door, and the vast skylight above, giving it more opportunity to make its presence known. Thunder boomed on the tail of bright flashes of lightning, and heavy rain lashed the windows.
Seth paused at the bottom of the stairs to look up at the skylight, and he wondered if Nick was out in this storm. His mentor had left that morning on a mission for Genevieve. He didn't get sent out much these days, his job as mentor and guardian to the nine kids who now made up the program too important for him to leave. But apparently there had been a matter of utmost importance only Nick was equipped to handle, so Genevieve had sent him off.
That was why she had been in the classroom that day, how she had caught Seth drawing in his sketchbook. Morgan was right: Genevieve's reasons for taking it were unjust. Seth always sketched in his book when he finished his class work early. Nick didn't mind, because it kept him from getting into trouble with Morgan. But Genevieve, of course, had taken offense and confiscated his sketchbook. Seth may not have minded so much, but that book was like his journal, only it depicted his thoughts through pictures instead of words. It was private, and he hated the idea that Genevieve may have looked through it.
With one last dark look at the raging storm, Seth turned away and quickened his pace to catch up with Morgan. He was suddenly glad Morgan had snuck into his room and convinced him to do this. He wanted his sketchbook back, and he wasn't going to let anything stop him from reclaiming it.
~ • ~ • ~
They reached Genevieve's office without incident. But then they spent a ridiculous amount of time staring at the door and arguing over whether or not it was locked. Morgan said duh, of course it was. No one as private as Genevieve would leave her office open to just anyone. Seth disagreed, claiming Genevieve was too confident in her power to bother. Who would dare enter her office, locked or not, and risk the consequences?
Finally, with a muttered curse, Seth crossed the hall and tried the handle. There was a moment of resistance and then —
A click. The door swung open, and Seth stepped back, startled. Despite his argument, he hadn't really been sure it would open.
"Well how about that," Morgan whispered. He crept up to stand beside Seth, eyeing the door as if it might catch fire. Slowly, cautiously, he reached out and pushed the door so it swung wide. Both boys went still, the seconds stretching out until…
Morgan let out a breath, part exhale, part breathless chuckle. "Gods in heaven, what is wrong with us? It's not like she's got booby traps."
Seth forced his own quiet laugh. "Right. So what are you waiting for? Age before beauty, old chap."
Morgan huffed another, more genuine, laugh. "Oh no, my friend. Your sketchbook. Your mother. You can go first."
The words were hardly out of his mouth before he started cursing himself. He'd done it again. He opened his mouth, but Seth had already turned away, all expression wiped from his face. But all he said was, "Fine."
And then he stepped into Genevieve's office.
~ • ~ • ~
The room was dark, shockingly so. Seth started to reach for the light, but dropped it again quickly, leaving it off. Rule number one when entering a room you weren't allowed in: don't do anything to attract attention.
Seth moved farther into the room slowly, drawing on his memory of the layout. He had only been called in a few times over the years, but Nick had taught him how to note details and memorize a place for future reference. Seth's artistic talents made him good at that sort of thing, and Nick always encouraged him to hone the skills he possessed naturally.
He could sense Morgan creeping in behind him, but he kept his attention forward. As he silently navigated his way around the desk, he searched his memory for somewhere that would make a good hiding place for his sketchbook. Then he asked himself: would Genevieve hide it? Or, like the unlocked door, would she assume no one would dare come looking for it, making hiding it pointless?
Suddenly hopeful, he stepped up to the desk and searched it with his gaze. Not an easy feat in the dark, but he knew he would recognize his sketchbook if he saw it, dark or not. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to be there.
Cautiously, he opened the top left-hand drawer. He heard Morgan, who was in the doorway, watching the hall, suck in a quiet breath as the drawer squeaked slightly. Seth went still, listening, then cursed himself and yanked the drawer open.
Neatly rowed files greeted him. He flipped through them briefly, but knew beforehand his sketchbook wasn't here. None of the labeled sections were thick enough to be holding his sketchbook. He closed the drawer and opened the second one, finding a similar sight. Still no sketchbook.
Seth switched to the right side drawers. He opened the top one: stapler, jar of pens, box of paperclips, and other similar paraphernalia. No sketchbook. He closed the drawer.
He held his breath as he reached for the last drawer. If his sketchbook wasn't here then there was no telling where Genevieve may have stashed it. She had several filing cabinets, even a well stocked bookshelf that could be hiding it. Searching it all would take more time than he was willing to risk. Genevieve was an early riser. What was to say she wouldn't decide to get up a little extra early today?
"Have you found it?" Morgan asked anxiously from the doorway.
Seth shook his head, only to remember that Morgan couldn't see him. "No," he whispered.
"Well, hurry up. I think I heard the front door open."
If Seth's heart hadn't been racing before, it was now. He sent up a quick prayer to gods he wasn't even sure he believed in and opened the drawer.
His breath left him in a rush, even as a smile lit his face. His sketchbook sat in an otherwise empty drawer, intact and unharmed. Seth hadn't even realized he had been afraid Genevieve had destroyed it until he saw it sitting there, untouched. Thank the gods for small mercies.
He quickly snatched it up and tucked it under his jacket. Then he shut the drawer and hurried around the desk to Morgan's side. "Got it," he said breathlessly. "Let's get out of here."
"Don't need to tell me twice." They stepped out into the hall after looking both ways, and Morgan carefully shut the door so it didn't make a sound. Then they hurried down the hall with their prize, success mere minutes away.
They made it down the corridor unhindered, turned the corner to the foyer —
And ran smack into a tall shadowy figure.
The boys stumbled back, barely managing to keep their feet under them. But by staying on his feet, Seth's sketchbook slid to the ground. It landed with an audible slap that was very loud in the otherwise quiet hallway. Seth flinched and went to pick it up, but a voice stopped him in his tracks.
"And just what do you think you're doing?"
With the light provided by the next flash of lightning, the boys exchanged a startled look before turning their attention to the shadow — who was, they saw now, Nick, returned from his mission and soaking wet from the downpour. His face was still nothing but shadow, but they could both feel the force of his glare regardless.
Seth swallowed and opened his mouth to reply, but Morgan beat him to it. "We were rescuing Seth's sketchbook, sir." He bent suddenly and scooped up said sketchbook, holding it up as proof. "See?"
"I see," Nick replied, his tone giving nothing away. "Rescuing it from what, exactly?"
The boys exchanged another look. "Um," Seth said hesitantly. "From… from Genevieve's office, sir." He looked down and waited for Nick to take the sketchbook and put it back where they'd found it.
Nick didn't take the book, nor did he say anything for a nerve-wrackingly long time. Finally, he held out his hand in silent demand.
Morgan hesitated. He glanced from Nick's hand to Seth, and looked like he was ready to fight Nick then and there if it meant getting the book back to Seth. Seth saw the intention in his friend's eyes, and loved the guy for it.
Which was why he shook his head and told Morgan with his eyes to just hand over the book.
With obvious reluctance, Morgan handed it over.
Nick accepted the book with a barely discernible nod. "Why did Genevieve take your sketchbook, Seth?"
Seth looked up at him, startled. He'd been expecting to be sent back to his room, not be given a chance to tell his side of the story. "Because she caught me drawing in it. In class. I'd finished my work, so I… pulled it out. I didn't think…" He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
Nick nodded again and tapped one corner of the book on his free hand. "I see." There was a pause. "You did your work? Everything Genevieve gave you, and what I assigned you?"
Seth nodded. "Yes, Nick. I wouldn't have pulled my sketchbook out otherwise."
Nick muttered something too quiet for Seth to hear. Then he held up the book. "I'm going to put this back in Genevieve's office." Seth's shoulders slumped against his will. Nick continued: "You boys should know better than to go snooping around in there, no matter how justified."
That comment startled both boys into looking up at him with wide eyes.
A shadowy smile seemed to appear fleetingly before vanishing again. "But I'll make sure you get it back before class is over tomorrow, Seth. Wouldn't want you heading a mutiny against me."
Seth laughed quietly while Morgan snickered. "Oh, I would never lead a mutiny against you, Nick," he promised innocently.
Nick, smart man that he was, was not fooled. "Right," he said dryly, earning chuckles from the boys. Nick gave them about ten seconds of merriment before stepping aside and waving them toward the stairs. "Alright, off with you. Back to bed, no detours. If either of you are late tomorrow, I'll make you both run laps until you can't feel your legs."
Six steps toward the stairs, and then Morgan spun around. "Wait. If one of us is late, we both have to run laps?"
"Yep."
Morgan gaped at him. "What kind of justice is that?"
"Fair justice," Nick replied simply. He pointed from boy to boy. "I know how you two operate. One of you thinks up a scheme, and you both commit to it wholeheartedly. Well, now you can both share punishment for it. I'm letting you off easy this time, if you can avoid being late. Capiche?"
Seth grabbed Morgan's arm before he could offer any more arguments. "Yes, sir. Thank you. We'll be on time."
Nick actually chuckled, much to their surprise. "Oh, I know you will be, Seth. But I suspect you'll need to drag that one out of bed." And with that, he turned away and headed off toward Genevieve's office.
Seth watched him go, then turned to Morgan, who had remained suspiciously quiet after Nick's prediction. The expression on Morgan's face made him sigh. "Damn it," he muttered.
He was so going to end up with jelly legs tomorrow.
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