Chapter Text
Crutchie leaned against the counter as the tea kettle slowly heated up. Crutchie loved mornings, he did, there was nothing like watching the sun rise over the buildings as the city woke up, but if he was going to keep this up, he’d have to stop pulling late nights. He snorted under his breath as the kettle finally let out a whistle and he could pour himself a mug. As if that was going to happen.
He tilted his head in interest as he added a tea bag to the water, dunking it in a futile attempt to make it steep faster, the water slowly turning dark. His shoulders sagged a little as he realized what he was picking up on. Oh, poor Jack. He hadn’t felt that much panic from his brother in a while. Not since the first time Race got high and became convinced his “luck” meant if he jumped off a roof, he’d be able to fly. They’d tried to tell him that that wasn’t how drugs or powers worked, but he was insistent. The fact that Finch was floating just below the ceiling, bobbing up and down and giggling at the ceiling lamp hadn’t helped. That hadn’t been a fun night for anyone involved. Well, except Finch really.
It must have been a bad one, then.
But…no. Not too bad, Crutchie thought as the telltale sounds of stirring came from the direction of Jack’s room. Crutchie flicked on the coffee maker, filled up last night, and left a mug on the counter before carefully making his way from the kitchen to the chairs by the windows. He’d had plenty of practice walking with a drink in his hand while using his crutch, but every now and again something happened, and he’d spill the whole thing. His morning tea was too precious to risk that with.
The sun had made its way above the furthest rooftops and Crutchie was halfway through his tea when Jack settled into the other chair to his left, coffee mug clutched in his hand.
“Thanks, Crutch,” he said, voice still hoarse from sleep.
“Don’t mention it,” Crutchie replied, not turning away from the window. He knew Jack well enough by now to know he didn’t want to talk about it. Living together for nearly fifteen years would do that. Crutchie counted it as a win that Jack came out to sit with him at all. Back when they’d been younger, before they knew each other, before they knew they could trust each other, and why they could trust each other, it wasn’t like this. Jack used to climb out onto the fire escape outside his room and stare at the city, pretending he wasn’t crying.
He might not have come to Crutchie back then, but Crutchie hadn’t yet learned to block other people’s emotions out and couldn’t help knowing what was going on with his brothers’, especially when they went wild. He was still tuned into the emotions of the people he cared about, but now it was on purpose.
They drank their respective drinks in silence as the sun continued to rise, painting the city gold in the brief moments when it was neither really night or day. Crutchie’s favorite time. He wasn’t surprised when Jack leaned back in his chair after only one cup of coffee. His nightmares were always worse when he hadn’t gone out the night before, wearing himself out with patrols and fights and adrenaline. It worried Crutchie, it always did. But then, he was always at least a little worried about his brother. Both of them, actually, though for very different reasons.
It wasn’t surprising that Crutchie was the most emotionally mature of the three of them, but it really was frustrating for him. Medda always said they would catch up as they got older, that Crutchie was just a little ahead, but Crutchie thought she had wildly underestimated how stubborn Jack and Spot could be.
“I should paint that, someday.” Jack surprised Crutchie out of his reflections, gesturing widely at the city before them, waking up for the new day.
“Yeah, you should,” Crutchie agreed, “give yourself a break from all those mountains.”
“Hey!” Jack cried indignantly, lowering his voice at Crutchie’s reprimanding look. Romeo was still asleep. “I happen to like those mountains, ya know.”
“Yeah, you sure made enough backdrops with ‘em. I think half’a New York knows.”
“Ah shaddup,” Jack groused, but there was a smile on his face, and it was small but not fake, so Crutchie counted it as a win.
They sat in silence for a bit longer, the noises of the city finally starting to pick up. Crutchie tossed back the rest of his tea, before pushing out of his chair. “Come on, gotta get a move on.”
Jack groaned, sprawling out in his chair dramatically to follow Crutchie’s progress back to the kitchen. “Do we gotta though?”
Crutchie shook his head. “Go wake up Romeo, Jack. Quiet time’s over.”
“Why can’t you ever wake up Romeo, huh?”
Crutchie shook his head, examining what they had in the fridge. “He’s your roommate. Sides, I make breakfast.” Toast and bacon, it was, then. They’d need to get some actual fruit and vegetables soon.
“I could make breakfast,” Jack grumbled, but he got up and walked back to his and Romeo’s room anyway, still clutching his coffee mug. Crutchie bet he’d forgotten it was empty.
“When we want to eat burned pancakes, you can make breakfast and I’ll wake Romeo up.” Crutchie called from the kitchen, knowing Jack heard him by the spike of annoyance that followed his words. Romeo was still unconscious.
“It was one time!” Jack yelled back from the other side of the apartment.
Well. He wasn’t unconscious anymore.
Crutchie laughed under his breath, heating up the skillet for the bacon as his roommates grumbled at each other in the background. Pretty soon, Romeo and Jack would be arguing over the shower, an argument Jack would win, because Romeo hated using his powers on his friends. Romeo would stumble blindly into the kitchen for coffee, his hair still a mess without any styling gel. Crutchie would put him to work making the toast and make sure he got bacon before Jack in return for his help. Jack would complain, but only a little, and they would ultimately leave the apartment five to ten minutes later than they had actually meant to.
Just an ordinary morning.
****
Katherine turned to look where the young protester was pointing and nodded in thanks to the woman when she spotted the two apparent leaders of the protest. If she wanted to write this article right, she would need to talk to them. The volunteer she had been talking to didn’t waste another moment, going back to attempting to collect signatures from the arriving student body of the college where the protests had set up shop today.
The crowd was still small, it was very early, after all. It was steadily growing, though, as students made their way into the campus for their morning classes and got caught up in conversation by one of the many people wandering around with clipboards asking for signatures and support. Katherine made her way through the crowd to where the heads of the protests were directing volunteers, twin heads of dark hair all she could really see through the crowd.
“Are you the Jacobs siblings?” She asked when she was a few feet away from the pair, causing both heads to spin to face her, revealing two cautiously open faces.
The boy cleared his throat awkwardly, “Yes. Yes, that would be us. I’m David, this is my sister Sarah. How can we help you?” Despite his initial surprise, David regained his composure quickly, extending his hand to shake hers, which she reciprocated briskly.
“You can tell me about what you’re doing here. I’d like to interview you both for an article I’m writing about the protests.” David’s face tensed, though he didn’t immediately refuse. She counted that as a win.
His sister, on the other hand, had closed off completely and was still staring at Katherine through narrowed eyes, sizing her up.
“Why do you want to do that, Ms….?” Sarah let her sentence trail off, raising an eyebrow at Katherine, and pointedly not offering her hand to shake. David seemed content to let her take the lead.
“P-plumber. I’m Katherine Plumber, I work for the New York Sun.” Katherine tried not to wince at how her voice stuttered over the pseudonym. Going by the increased height of Sarah Jacobs’ left eyebrow, she’d noticed. She’d taken Darcy’s advice about the value of distancing herself as a reporter from her father, but sometimes she wondered if it was worth it. She had never quite gotten used to using the penname.
“And what does the Sun want you to write about the protests?” Sarah asked, looking at Katherine with distrust, but under that, Katherine thought she could see just the slightest hint of curiosity. Or maybe she just hoped she did.
“They don’t. No one told me to write anything.” Now that got a reaction. Both Jacobs siblings stood up straighter. Sarah turned to her brother, tilting her head in question. His mouth twisted thoughtfully, and he tilted his head from side to side. Sarah nodded, agreeing. Katherine tried not to look like she was waiting with bated breath when the siblings turned back to her, identical determined looks on their faces. They didn’t know it, but their answer could make or break her career.
“David, can you take over with the volunteers? I think Ms. Plumber and I have a lot to talk about.” Sarah finally said, looking Katherine over once more, her gaze decidedly less cold this time. Katherine hoped whatever the other woman was looking for, Katherine measured up.
David nodded, shooting a quick, amused look at his sister before making a beeline for a group of people surrounding a young man holding a clipboard and looking overwhelmed. Katherine looked around her, surprised to see so many people now milling about in front of the college. How had she not noticed how large the crowd had grown?
Katherine startled at a hand on her arm, “We should probably move this conversation somewhere a little…quieter,” Sarah said, suddenly standing a lot closer to Katherine. Katherine nodded, hoping the other woman couldn’t tell just how fast her heart was racing at the surprise of seeing her so close.
Judging by Sarah’s smirk, she wasn’t as lucky as she’d hoped.
****
“Hey, you guys get a load of this?” Race asked them as they walked up to him outside the school. Jack didn’t know why Racer was here so early, he didn’t have a class until two. But then again, sometimes Race just did odd things. Normally he would just shrug and say, “It felt right.” It tended to piss off people who didn’t know that was just how Race worked. And sometimes also the people who did know. Because he couldn’t be vaguer than that if he tried, and he knew it, and Jack knew that Race was, at his heart, an asshole.
Jack looked behind him at the large group of people he was talking about. There was no chanting or protest signs, but it was clearly that. A protest, that is. The protest, most likely, though why they’d shown up at the college now was beyond Jack.
“Do you know what they’re here for?” Romeo asked eagerly, practically vibrating in excitement next to Jack. Jack sighed internally. The kid was far too invested in those protests for his own good. Not that it didn’t make sense, given their cause, but it wasn’t good for Romeo to want so badly to get involved. It was just going to leave him disappointed. Or worse, found out.
Race shrugged as he pushed off the wall to walk with them, falling easily into step next to Crutchie, bumping shoulders with the other boy in greeting. Jack brought up the rear, keeping an eye on his people. Whatever the protests were here for, they would have to walk through them to get onto campus, and he’d rather not lose any of the boys in the crowd. Romeo, who was already trying to rush ahead, would find a way to get into trouble in a crowd like this. He had no idea where Race’s luck was falling today, and Crutchie, though he’d say differently, still had trouble with large, excited crowds. No, it would be better if he could keep them all together.
He was so focused on keeping an eye on them that he almost missed Race’s reply. “I think they were getting signatures for somethin’. Something ‘bout acceptance, I don’t know.”
“Course they are,” Jack grumbled under his breath. They were well into the crowd now and Jack groaned internally as they seemed to catch the attention of one of the many people wandering about with clip boards. He tried to hurry the others forward, not looking forward to having to deflect why he didn’t want to get involved, but Romeo was already smiling at the guy’s greeting, and then Crutchie was saying hello, and there was really no leaving then.
Jack settled in, staying in the back of the group, looking around at the rest of the crowd, not paying attention to what the others were talking about. It was busy, but seemed pretty calm, for the moment, anyway.
Don’t get Jack wrong, the protests had a worthy cause. He’d be a hypocrite if he said otherwise just because he was safe in his obscurity. There were plenty of people like him who couldn’t hide, who had their status as metas stamped out on everything from their medical records to their driver’s license. Jack knew he was lucky. He and his boys. But that didn’t mean they weren’t at risk of the exact same treatment if their powers were ever found out. Possibly worse, given that they’d managed to hide it for as long as they had. No one liked being defied, especially not people used to being in charge.
“And what about you?”
“Huh?” Jack turned back at the question directed at him, caught off guard. And then found himself caught off guard again as he looked at the person asking the question of him. Those were some pretty eyes. In an equally pretty face. Jack couldn’t even formulate a response to make up for his initial embarrassing answer, he was too busy imagining what it would be like to draw this boy. Charcoal? Yeah, he could do charcoal.
“What about you?” The boy repeated, sounding significantly more amused the second time. Jack forced himself out of his daydream about drawing elegant cheekbones and painting bright brown eyes. He could just feel Crutchie laughing at him, he could see Race smirking. He hated his friends. Romeo, of course, had managed to slip away in the few seconds of Jack’s distraction.
“I’d rather talk bout you,” He said, stepping closer and angling himself to effectively cut both Race and Crutchie out of the conversation. Or at least out of his, and hopefully this boy’s, line of sight. Maybe he’d luck out and he could flirt his way out of talking about the protests.
For about half a second, he thought his plan would work, despite the snort he heard behind him that said Race didn’t have as much faith in him. Jack would have smacked him, but he didn’t dare look away from the boy’s face, which had gone a light shade of pink in response to his words, and wasn’t that just a lovely image? If that was the kind of reaction he got just from what was honestly vague and untargeted flirting, he wondered what kind of reaction a direct compliment would get him.
He was stopped from going too far down that path when the boy seemed to recollect himself, shaking his head slightly and straightening up. When he met Jack’s eyes again, the beginnings of the blush had, sadly, disappeared, pushed down under the boy’s dedication to his cause.
“Can we count on your support in calling out the administration for their discriminatory acceptance policies?” The boy asked, clearly repeating what he’d said to Crutchie and Race while Jack had been paying attention elsewhere, but not seeming to mind. When Jack didn’t respond immediately, the boy’s eyes practically lit up and he kept talking, clearly building up to a longer rant about the injustice of the college and the way metas were treated, the way the protesters always did. “It’s absurd that they persist in having a student population without a single meta, and yet insist that they don’t discriminate in their acceptance, that it’s simply a result of the lack of meta applicants. They need to know they we aren’t fooled, and we won’t accept this continued injustice.”
Part of Jack wanted to laugh. If only the boy knew who he was talking to, just in this little group of them. The rest of Jack, though, had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes, because the problem was so much more than acceptance rates of marked metas. But this put-together, well-spoken, earnest boy who was so clearly not a meta, he couldn’t understand that, no matter how much he cared about fixing things. He was clearly waiting for a response, though, and Jack hated himself for what he had to do. Guess he wouldn’t get to draw those eyes after all.
“I’m sorry, pal. I ain’t interested in signing up for lost causes. I got folks of my own I gotta be lookin’ out for. Can’t go wasting my time fighting battles already decided.”
The boy’s expression shifted from earnest excitement to shocked surprise from one blink to the next. He opened his mouth like he was getting ready to argue and Jack couldn’t have that. He didn’t actually want to argue with the boy about this. He couldn’t bring himself to dim that light in those eyes, any more than he already had, that is. He just couldn’t be getting involved, he wouldn’t be the only one in trouble if he did. So, he did the only thing he could. He fled.
****
Sarah led her to the edge of the crowd, turning to her once they were out of the bustle of excited people. “Why are you writing this article, Ms. Plumber? If your editor hasn’t told you to, I mean.”
“It’s Katherine, please.” That suddenly felt very important, that Sarah call her by her first name.
Sarah’s smirk, which hadn’t quite faded from earlier, only grew wider at that. She nodded, “Katherine, then. You haven’t answered my question.”
Katherine took a breath, trying to steady herself in the face of this girl looking at her like that. She didn’t have time to lose her cool right now, not matter how pretty Sarah Jacobs looked with a grin on her face and amusement in her eyes. “I work for the Sun, like I said. I usually do entertainment pieces, show reviews. It’s not—it's not where I want to be.”
“Nothing wrong with that. Plenty of people love the entertainment section,” Sarah replied evenly when Katherine didn’t continue right away.
Katherine nodded, because she was right, but. “I want to write serious news. Something that matters. What’s going on in the world, not just what new show is running on Broadway.”
“And you think writing about our protests is the way to do that.” It wasn’t a question, but Katherine nodded in answer like it was anyway.
“Why?”
Katherine furrowed her brow, confused. “Because you’re doing something big. Something that shouldn’t be ignored. No matter what happens, these protests have changed the conversation. They’ve changed how we have to view our world and our actions.”
“And don’t forget about the metas we’re protesting on behalf of.”
“Of course not, and any of them who would talk to me I’d be glad to include—”
“I’m going to stop you, Katherine,” Sarah interrupted, holding a hand up. “You aren’t the first reporter to want to write about our protests so that they can make it big. We’ve seen how that goes. I hope you get to write the serious stories you want to. But if you’re going to write another article like the one that ran in the World last month, I’m sorry but you won’t be doing it about us.”
Katherine winced, thinking back to the scathing article in her father’s paper a few weeks back. The reporter had very obviously written his opinions into the article, calling the protests the “attention-seeking cries of privileged millennials playing the victims.” It hadn’t been a fun read.
“I’m not,” she rushed to assure Sarah, who looked like she was about to leave. Katherine took a chance and placed a hand on her arm to hopefully prevent that. “Please. The news shouldn’t be like that. I know plenty of people think what you’re doing here is just a way to get attention and that the problems you’re highlighting are just made up, but.” She took a breath. “Reporting should be non-partisan. Opinion pieces have their place, but not when those opinions are presented as fact. You haven’t had someone write about the facts, the real facts, about what you’re trying to do here. Let me.”
Sarah continued to stare at her, but she wasn’t actively moving away anymore. “I’m listening.”
“The news should tell people what’s happening, but not how to think about it. I think that’s all it’s been doing for far too long in regard to your efforts here. I want to give people the chance to make up their own minds.”
“Why?” Sarah asked quietly, her gaze not leaving Katherine’s.
“Because I want to be a reporter, not a politician. And the protests are getting a lot of focus right now, even if it’s not really a good focus, yet. If I want to break into serious reporting, this might be my best chance. And I should start how I intend to continue in my career.”
Katherine tried not to hold her breath as the other woman searched her face. She may have just shown her hand too early, revealing that, but something told her Sarah would have seen through Katherine right away if she’d said anything else. Eventually, Sarah nodded, apparently satisfied with what she’d found, and took a small step back, putting a more reasonable distance between them. Katherine’s hand fell back to her side.
“Neither David or I have any classes Thursday afternoon.” Katherine blinked, confused at the abrupt change in topic.
“Okay?”
“We can do your interview, then, if that works for you.”
“Oh! Oh, yes, that would be great.” Katherine scrambled to grab her planner and pen out of her bag, trying not to flush at Sarah obviously holding back laughter at her fumbling. “Does three work for the both of you?”
Sarah nodded, restrained laughter still hanging in her eyes. “Three is perfect. There’s a café around the block, it’s called Trinity, you can’t miss it. We’ll meet you there.”
Katherine didn’t think she could keep the smile off her face if she tried as she nodded back at Sarah. “That’s perfect. Thank you so much.” Sarah’s grin grew, and Katherine realized she’d just been standing there staring. “Right, I’ll just be,” she gestured awkwardly over her shoulder with her pen, “going then.”
“Katherine!” Sarah called out before she could get too far away. Katherine spun on her heel, stupidly pleased to have even a few more minutes to talk to this girl. “This article you’re writing. Be careful, okay?”
Katherine tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
“I just. Even being non-partisan, you’re going to be getting the word out there for us, and that’s more important for us than you probably realize.” Sarah sighed, looking back into the crowd. “There are a lot of rumors about us. About what we’re doing and why. And David and I will do our best to clear those up in our interview. But there are others. About meta involvement, both for us and against us. And we can’t confirm or deny any of those rumors. For a lot of reasons. One of them being that we don’t know for sure who involved in the protest has powers. For obvious reasons, those who aren’t marked don’t go around talking about it.”
“Against you?” Katherine asked, seizing on the phrase Sarah had tried so hard to gloss over.
“There are rumors—rumors that I can’t confirm or deny because I don’t know if they’re true or not—that there are people, most likely corporations, hiring metas to discredit the intentions of the protests. There’s no proof, though. And we can’t—the protests can’t handle unfounded speculation like that, it would shake our foundations if people thought, even for a moment, that the people we’re trying to help were against us. We’ve got enough problems right now, with the meta disappearences on top of everything else.” Sarah sighed, passing a hand over her face, clearly stressed. “Just please, I know you want this to be the start of your career, but please just report on what we’re doing, not what people think we’re doing.”
Sarah seemed really worried, and so Katherine nodded, “Of course. I should let you get back to your event. Thank you, Sarah, for taking the time to talk with me, and for not shutting me down.”
Sarah smiled, relief evident on her face. “You’re welcome, Katherine Plumber. I’m…I’m glad I met you today.”
Even as Katherine smiled back and watched Sarah turn back to the crowd before diving back in, her mind was racing with the possibilities of what Sarah had just told her. Metas hired to sabotage the protests claiming to be for their benefit. Now that was a story. She just had to find a way to prove it.
She’d always appreciated a challenge.
Now if only she could get an inside source. Someone who could tell her more about the meta presence in the protests than the Jacobs siblings.
****
Jack shouldered his way through the crowd with a mumbled excuse directed behind him. Race and Crutchie would move on at their own pace, and Romeo was already who knew where, the best thing he could do was just get out of the crowd. Most of what he’d been trying to avoid in that crowd had already happened anyway.
“Don’t mind him,” he heard Crutchie start saying as he walked away. Whatever else he said to make Jack’s excuses, Jack didn’t hear, finally managing to be swallowed by the crowd, away from the boy with the bright eyes and honest smile who Jack would probably never see again.
The crowd wasn’t exactly dense, but it was active, and difficult to move through. Jack kept an eye out for Romeo even as he slid through gaps between people, slowly but surely making his way towards the school buildings. He didn’t have much hope of finding the boy, he was small, and if he didn’t want Jack to find him, he wouldn’t. He was almost out of the crowd when he saw two women talking, space around them to squeeze through and get out of the damn crowd, though not enough to do so without stumbling into one of them. He was about to go for it, just to finally be out of this crowd and away from the protests when he noticed how intently they were talking, one of the women holding onto the other’s arm. Whatever they were talking about, they didn’t need him interrupting them by bumping into one of them. Squaring his shoulders, Jack turned away from the easy exit in search of another one.
It was another few minutes before he finally broke free of the crowd. Jack breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that the crowd was chaotic, or even particularly loud, it was just being somewhere he didn’t want to be that was overwhelming. Straightening his bag on his shoulder, Jack made to walk into the campus proper, only to be stopped by a hand on his arm.
Jack turned, ready to snap at whoever was grabbing him, when he saw his brother looking at him steadily.
“Spot,” Jack said, relief evident in his voice, “didn’t see ya there. What’re you doin here?” Spot didn’t go to college anymore. He’d finished up his associate’s last year, so he could officially work at the garage he’d basically been working at since high school.
“Elmer forgot his flash drive,” Spot replied, brow furrowing slightly as he looked over Jack’s shoulder to where Jack had just come from. “Was bringin’ it to him. Jack, you weren’t doing something stupid, like signing up for that shit show, were you?”
Jack sighed, rubbing a hand behind his head. He didn’t bother trying to free his arm from Spot’s grip. “No. Was just trying to get through.”
Spot nodded, finally letting go of Jack’s arm. “Good. Because you know we can’t risk—”
“I know, Spot,” Jack interrupted him. He didn’t need a lecture from his younger brother right now, especially not one that Spot didn’t want to have to give. Neither of them needed that. “Sides, we got our own way of helping.”
Looking at his brother, standing close so as not to be overheard, Jack finally noticed the dark bags under his eyes. Spot must have gone out without him last night. He’d have to ask Tommy Boy or Elmer later. Hopefully Spot hadn’t gone out alone.
“Yeah, we do. Does a hell of a lot more good than these’ve done, too,” Spot said, gesturing at the crowd still buzzing behind Jack. Jack nodded in agreement, the protests hadn’t had the best success rate over the years. Spot nodded decisively, evidently considering the matter settled. “Elmer told me ta wait for him out here, but I’m startin’ ta think I’ll just go find him. You know where his classes are?”
“Yeah, that building over there.” Jack pointed at the building on the far side of the small quad. “If he had a meeting with someone, he’s probably on the third floor.” Spot nodded his thanks and turned to leave. “Hey, Spot!” Jack called before he could leave, and idea coming to him. Spot looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at Jack. “It’s just. Crutchie and Racer stopped ta talk to one of the folks getting’ signatures. I gotta get to class early, got paints ta mix, you know. You think you could make sure they get out alright?”
Spot sighed but turned back around to face Jack fully. “Go on, Cowboy, I’ll keep an eye out for ‘em.”
Jack smiled. “Thanks, Spot, you’re a life-saver.” He’d gone a few steps past Spot towards his building when he remembered. He turned around and yelled at Spot, “Oh! Romeo was in there somewhere, too, if you want to keep an eye out for him.”
Spot rolled his eyes, “Just get to class, Kelly, before I change my mind.”
Jack shot Spot a mock salute and turned to push through the doors. As soon as they closed behind him, he snorted. Mixing paints. Honestly. At least something good had come out of this morning.
Racer’s luck must have been in his favor this morning after all.
****
“Don’t mind him,” Crutchie said, waving a hand after Jack’s retreating back as he turned back to David. “He gets like that sometimes, he don’t mean nothing by it.”
Race snorted, “Yeah. He just thinks he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders, is all.”
Tension still radiated off David in waves, but it lessened slightly, and he nodded anyway. “Well. I guess I should thank you two for signing this, then, shouldn’t I? If your friend is so against it.”
“Ah it’s nothing.” Crutchie waves his hand again. And the thing is, the petition really is nothing. They all know the college won’t consider it long enough to consider what it says, let alone examine who signed it. Sometimes, Jack could be too paranoid for his own good. “And Jack ain’t against it, ‘xactly. He’s just…”
“Preoccupied?” David asks, a smirk curling around the edge of his mouth.
Crutchie laughs, surprised. “Yeah, something like that.”
“You know,” Race started, his tone of voice catching Crutchie’s attention. That tone never meant anything but mischief. “I betcha you could convince him. Wear him down, ya know?”
Oh, Crutchie liked that plan. “Yeah, Jack’s not so bad when ya get to know ‘im. ‘Sides, plenty a those folks he says he’s gotta look out for would be happy to sign.”
David perked up, visibly and not so visibly. Crutchie almost wanted to laugh. Yeah, Race was onto something here. “Do you really think so?”
“Oh yeah.” Race shot Crutchie a conspiratorial smile. “We ain’t really got time to volunteer, but we’s definitely on your guys’ side in all a this.”
“Speaking of not having time,” Crutchie began, glancing down at his phone, “I gotta head to class if I don’t wanna be too late. David.” He pointed at the boy, who looked like he was about to nod goodbye and vanish back into the crowd without another word. “When we’re not in class or work, we’re usually at Jacobi’s, the restaurant on the other side of the park, or sometimes at Trinity round the corner.”
“I appreciate that, but I don’t have much free time, either, when I’m not organizing this kind of thing.” David gestured around them at the crowd. “And pretty much any time we do have, my sister and I are helping our parents and taking care of our little brother.”
“Bring her with you, we don’t bite. Your baby brother, too, Racer here’s a great babysitter.” Crutchie ignored Race’s indignant sputtering as he turned the other boy around and gave him a push to get him moving through the crowd. “We’d better see you later, David, I’ll be real offended if we don’t.”
Crutchie smiled when David laughed, looking surprised, before nodding and gesturing for Crutchie to get moving.
Crutchie walked in Race’s wake through the crowd, which was much larger than it had been when they’d gotten there, only to force himself to an abrupt stop to avoid crashing directly into Race.
“Racer, what the hell—” Crutchie started, moving around the other boy, only to cut himself off when he caught sight of his brother scanning the crowd. Typical. If Crutchie could connect the anxiety-excitement-thrill radiating off Race to its source, how come the man himself couldn’t? What had Crutchie done to deserve this? Crutchie took the three steps necessary to bring himself into Spot’s view. “Heya, Spot, fancy seeing you here.”
“There ya are. Took you two long enough,” Spot replied, not returning the pleasantry, as usual. Crutchie didn’t let it bother him. He knew Spot was happy to see them. Well, he knew he wasn’t annoyed, despite what his tone may imply.
Crutchie shrugged. “We got caught up talking to one of the volunteers. Cute guy, right, Race?” He called behind him, startling Race out of his stillness.
“Sure, if ya go for preppy,” Race scoffed, walking the few feet out of the crowd to join the other two.
“Jack sure seemed to,” Crutchie pointed out, directing a long-suffering glance at his brother. Really, the amount of emotional stunting between the two of them was ridiculous. They were more than happy to poke fun at each other for it though, even if they couldn’t recognize it in themselves.
Spot rolled his eyes at them both, not looking at Race. Crutchie thought he was being almost painfully obvious about it, though he had the advantage of knowing about the spike of panic followed by relief Spot had just felt. Race, lacking that, probably didn’t think anything of the way Spot was very determinedly staring to the left of him. “Cowboy said as much. Bout the talking, not the guy. Just hope you two was being smart, is all.”
“Spotty, I’m hurt,” Race said dramatically, placing a hand over his chest and leaning on Crutchie for support, who rolled his eyes at the theatrics but tolerated it. “I’m always smart.”
Spot raised a single eyebrow, finally looking at Race. Race squawked in offense.
Crutchie rolled his eyes at the two of them. Ridiculous. “You shouldn’t worry so much, Spot, everything’s under control.”
“Yeah, Spot, Lady Luck loves me!” Race insisted. Crutchie didn’t need to see him to know he was winking.
“No, she don’t, you lost $60 in poker to Hotshot last week.”
Race waved a careless hand, finally pushing away from Crutchie’s shoulder, “Semantics.”
“Sure it is, Racer.” Spot rolled his eyes, but the fondness in the gesture was obvious, even without the ability to sense it.
Honestly. These idiots were going to be the death of Crutchie.
“Okay,” he said, startling both of them out of their eye contact. “I’m gonna go to class. You two crazy kids have fun hanging out together at school when you don’t even gotta be here.” He was walking away before they could respond, not very interested in hearing them make up excuses. As if everybody didn’t already know, anyway.
Well, he amended, everyone but the oblivious idiots behind him.
Seriously, Crutchie deserved a medal for the amount of emotional stupidity he put up with on a daily basis.
****
Katherine started walking away from the crowd and the college, already writing down ideas in her planner, uncaring that she was writing over the calendar squares and some of her weekly appointments. Her mind was working too fast to wait for her to find her notebook.
She was thinking through how to convince a meta to help her expose the underhanded actions of the big companies, never mind that she didn’t yet know which big companies, or how to find a meta to help her, when she nearly ran headfirst into someone skirting the edge of the crowd.
“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” Katherine scrambled to apologize to the boy she had nearly bowled over. And it was a boy, a young one, too, either that or just very short. He was already brushing off her apologies as he bent down to pick up the planner she had dropped in her attempt not to knock him over.
“Don’t even worry about it, beautiful,” the boy laughed. “It was worth it, to get to talk to you.”
“No, really, I’m sorry, I should have been looking where I was going,” Katherine insisted, while the boy stood up, brushing the dirt off her planner. And then didn’t give it back to her. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked.
The boy shook himself, looking back up at her, and she realized he’d been reading her planner, the hell—
“Why’re you so interested in finding a meta, anyway?” He asked, finally handing the book back to her, unconcerned at being caught snooping.
Her internal tirade cut itself off in her shock. “Excuse me?”
“Your notes. Step 1 convince a meta to help me,” He repeated her words back at her, and she could hear, a bit, how that sounded. It wasn’t great. “What’re you plannin’ on doing?” There was an eagerness to this boy, and his smile had yet to leave his face.
Well, she considered, she was still in the protests. If there were any people who were likely to help her with this, they would be here. “Why? Do you know any?”
The boy’s smile widened. “Maybe,” he drawled, “depends. Why’re you lookin’ for one?”
“Because someone is hiring metas to sabotage the protests and I want to find them.”
If possible, the boy’s eyes lit up even more. “And you don’t want to be running into anything blind.”
“I’m not even sure where to be running into, yet. So, do you know someone who would help me?”
The boy stood straight and offered her his hand, “Name’s Romeo. At your service…” He trailed off with a raised eyebrow and a nod towards his still extended hand.
She shook off her surprise—that had been easier than she’d been expecting—and shook his hand. “Katherine.”
“Pleasure’s all mine, Katherine.” He dropped her hand slowly, not looking away from her gaze. “So, what’s the plan?”
“I have theories I need to run down, I won’t be ready to do anything until I have a better idea of who’s been hiring them. Unless you know where we should go now?”
“Nah, I got no idea. I’m not really supposed ta be getting mixed up in all that, but I got some friends who are. I’ll ask, see if they got any ideas.” She nodded, that was more than she was expecting. “Here, gimme your book again.”
Katherine raised her eyebrows but complied. “What are you doing?” She asked when he unclipped the pen from the spine and started writing, just under where she had finished her notes.
“Giving you my number, so you can let me know when we’re going out. Ta catch the bad guys, of course.” He winked at her, flipping her planner closed and handing it back to her, pen once again secured in the spine.
“Can I ask you a question?” She asked, considering him.
“You can ask me anythin’ you like, beautiful.”
“Wasn’t that risky of you, to just announce yourself like that? What if I’d decided to tell someone?”
Romeo smiled brightly at her, “Nah, you wouldn’t tell on me, would you, Katherine?”
And Katherine didn’t know why, maybe it was the smile, maybe it was how painfully young this boy was, but she found herself shaking her head, more resolved to keep his secret than before. “No, I wouldn’t.”