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"The name's Richards. Reed Richards." He'd barely gotten the words out before the cold, dismissive reply: "That's no concern of mine."
Hardly an ideal first impression for either of them, and Reed had replayed the event more times than he cared to count, had reviewed again and again just how the irritable tone had jarred him and how the expressive brown eyes lifting from their work had looked straight through him; he should have turned on his heel and left the room, he knew. It would have been the better--certainly the more dignified--response, it was just...
There was something compelling about Victor that made him want terribly to know what it might be like to have his full attention. For reasons he didn't fully understand, Reed wanted desperately to have those eyes focus fully on him.
Ben summarized the situation very simply, of course.
"Don't tell me you've got a crush on that jerk?"
Naturally, Reed had insisted it wasn't so--he found Victor fascinating, how could he not? But it was nothing so ordinary or juvenile as that.
From what he knew of Grimm, he hadn't been convinced but it was what Reed chose to tell himself and there was clearly no point in arguing.
For his part, Victor appeared completely unaware of the unrequited infatuation he'd inspired. In their classes together, he alternated between ignoring Reed completely and openly antagonizing him for no discernable reason. He took a certain vicious glee in tearing apart Richards' ideas whenever he dared to present them--which happened quite often, Reed wasn't particularly shy--but refused to discuss the point further once a lecture was over and the other students were gone.
Musing over the oddness of his behavior, Reed lingered in the lecture hall as everyone else gathered their things to leave. Today, he'd been uncharacteristically quiet; Victor had actually gone so far as to stare quizzically at him during the professor's lengthy (but somehow still woefully inadequate) coverage of quantum entanglement, but Reed had kept his mouth shut and refused the bait.
Von Doom wasn't the only one who'd found this odd, of course--other students had glanced his way expectantly during the past half-hour and the professor himself had paused at one point to look his way, leaving the floor open for interjection.
Reed just didn't have the heart for it, today.
The hall was nearly empty by the time he closed his book and dropped it into his bag, slinging it over one shoulder tiredly. Victor had already gone, not that he imagined it mattered particularly--what could he have said, after all?
'Hello, I realize my presence frankly annoys you, but I was wondering if you'd like to get to know each other better with an eye toward perhaps convincing you not to hate me quite so much?' Ludicrous. The whole situation was hopeless, and maybe Ben was right and it *was* just a crush--a silly, impossible thing that he'd outgrow in a few months.
"What game are you playing now, Richards?"
His heart lurched unpleasantly at the familiarity of the voice and Reed froze where he stood, wide-eyed and blushing up to his ears.
"Game?" The word came out in a strangled, anxious tone.
"Yes, game," Victor snapped, adjusting the bag strap across his own shoulder with a sharp tug, as if for emphasis. "You think that if you are silent and sullen... what, you might gain more attention than argument provided?"
Reed blinked up in confusion. What on earth was he being accused of, exactly? Why was Victor so determined to believe the absolute *worst* of his motives on every occasion--including this one?
"That wasn't--"
But Von Doom wasn't done yet, as the finger jabbed angrily in Reed's face proved.
"You will not succeed!" Victor declared triumphantly, prompting a startled sound from Richards.
"I don't--"
But Victor simply turned away and stormed out as though that ended the whole matter, leaving a thoroughly baffled Reed in his wake.
Ben's amusement over the retelling of this encounter did little to lift Reed's spirits, later that night.
"Tall, stubborn, willing to carry on both sides of an argument himself, I can see why you like him so much," he declared between wheezes of laughter.
"I never said that I liked Victor, you're putting words in my mouth."
Ben nodded soberly, expression straightening for a second.
"Right, right--and that's clearly Vic's territory, putting words in your mouth."
To his credit, Reed thought, at least he avoided the awkwardness of a double entendre stemming from that unfortunate choice of words.
"Argh!" The frustration of it all, the sheer impossibility of it, was overwhelming. Reed sank into a chair and angrily clutched a pillow to his face, muffling a yell before holding it weakly against his chest.
"I'm an idiot, Ben."
His roommate simply stared at him in the silence that followed.
"...Look, you're the one who said it, not me." Ben's contagious grin and playful shrug made it impossible to take offense--though Reed threw the pillow at him anyway just on principle.
"Alright, alright--" Ben laughed, catching the small cushion and dropping it on his own bed. "So, you're not an *idiot* ...you're just not, uh... experienced, with people. That's all. You have a crush on Vic, that's bad taste but alright, it happens, but let me ask: How many times have you even gone out, since you came to ESU? Maybe once, freshman year? For coffee?"
Reed shrugged; his attention was already wandering from the conversation at hand.
"About that, probably."
"Well, there you go--that's your problem. You caught this thing for Vic because, maybe, he's someone you see all the time. Ya gotta get out there, pal--meet some people who maybe aren't complete assholes."
"Mm," Reed said noncommittally. "And this is where you try to talk me into going to some kind of frat party--"
Ben rolled his computer chair closer with his feet, hands interlocked over his stomach, exuding confidence.
"Yeah, but this time is different, 'cause you're gonna say 'yes.'"
"Am I?" Reed asked, bemused. "And why am I doing that?"
Ben's grin broadened. "Because I know somebody who wants to meet you, and she's going, and I promise she's a lot friendlier than Victor 'Don't-call-me-'Vic', permanent-stick-up-his-ass' von Doom."
Unlike other social outings, which Reed had regretted embarking upon almost immediately, he was two hours and 1.5 beers into the party before deciding he regretted it.
That feeling was, of course, inspired by a familiar face, scowling at him from across the room.
Well, that and his 'date' hadn't really turned out; she was a year or two older than him and certainly more outgoing, but it had only taken a few minutes of smalltalk to establish that there was just no spark there at all. They'd settled into an enjoyable conversation about game theory and statistical probability when Victor had appeared over her shoulder like some kind of haunting spirit.
'I should ignore him,' Reed thought. 'Just carry on as if he'd never shown up. Why let him ruin my night?'
He could practically feel Victor's eyes boring into his skull, from the corner of the room he was currently inhabiting. The effort of not glancing in his direction was causing a thin sheen of sweat to gather on Reed's forehead, and his date, Ginny, was watching quizzically as he struggled to gather up the threads of their previous conversation.
She turned to glance around the room, stopping when her eyes rested on Von Doom with brows raised in sudden understanding.
"Hey," she said quietly, attention returning to him again. "I love talking shop and all, but I've got an early lab, so... I'm gonna go." Pausing long enough to pull the half-empty bottle from Reed's hand, she chanced a light kiss on his cheek before patting it. "You know, if it were me... I'd just go talk to the guy. Clear the air, see where you stand, stop dancing around it and just jump in, yeah? Worst case, he hates you and at least you'd know that."
Reed was mortified. Was it that obvious?
"Yeah," he said softly. "That's ah. That's good advice, Ginny. Thanks."
They said their goodbyes and Reed drew a deep, fortifying breath before finally turning to look in Victor's direction.
He was nowhere to be seen. As usual, Reed had missed his chance completely.
Facing limited options, and with just enough alcohol in his system to make a bad idea seem quite good, actually, Reed decided to take a detour on his way back to the dorms. Victor's room was in separate wing--as far from all other students as administration could arrange to keep him, of course--but it was in the same building and not terribly far from his typical path.
It just meant turning up there unannounced and letting Victor recognize that he'd obviously made a special trip.
Given that he intended to confront the strain between them at long last and admit to his feelings, well... what was one more thing to be humiliated about in the morning?
There was no response to his hesitant series of knocks and stranger still, Victor hadn't closed the door completely to engage the lock. Just the soft tap of Reed's knuckles sent it swinging inward on its battered hinges, revealing an empty room beyond. The only light was provided by a small, portable desk lamp; its faint yellow glow spread in a blurry semi-circle that encompassed several open books and stacks of scrawled paper--those immediate caught Reed's attention, though he lingered in the doorway for a half-second more, sternly reminding himself that Victor would not be happy if he found out... on the other hand, who said he had to know? A quick peek couldn't do any harm, and the room still carried a faint, familiar scent that Reed recognized as belonging to Von Doom; it was more than a little enticing, pulling his sneakered feet across the threshold as if he were guided on a string.
Guiltily, Reed pushed aside the drunken impulse to pull Victor's hoodie off the chair's back and bury his face in it--the numbers were more compelling, fortunately (if only just) and he soon forgot about the heady trace of pheromones as understanding gradually dawned.
He'd always known that Victor was brilliant--preternaturally so, to the intense dismay of ESU's entire teaching staff and the increasing interest of the US government--but seeing his work was like reading a lost, unfinished piece by Mozart. Like spying on DaVinci. Now his pulse was racing for reasons that had nothing to do with Victor's lingering scent and everything to do with seeing, finally, a mind as sharp as his own--busily at work, picking apart the seams that held reality itself together.
Reed understood two things simultaneously, as he lifted the second sheet with shaking hands: the first, that this was a uniquely dangerous work; deadly in a way and on a scale that would be impossible to express to anyone else (not least of all because one of the equation appeared to be slightly off, by just a little) ...but the second was a quieter understanding, almost buried by the roiling thoughts that accompanied it: he was hopelessly in love with the man who'd created those sprawling equations. He loved him intensely for being, among so many other things, someone who could create such a thing. Someone like himself who didn't draw back out of some silly sense of "reverence" for the natural laws.
"What are you DOING?" Victor's voice, dark with anger. Victor's lean form, blocking the open door.
Reed could only stand stupidly by the desk, papers still clutched in his hand.
"The door was open, I just--"
Von Doom stalked closer, yanking the notes from Reed's trembling hand.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry, but it's amazing work, Victor--astonishing, brilliant work! And dangerous. Aren't you afraid--"
"Doom? Afraid?" Victor snorted a laugh. "Hardly. Is this what you came here for? To insult me? To steal my work??"
Reed blinked, feeling suddenly quite sober. Steal his work? Was that what Victor thought? Truly?
"No! Victor, I haven't come here to steal anything! The door was open, I should have waited, I guess I wasn't thinking... but I'd never steal--"
'From you,' he'd wanted to say, though truthfully he'd never steal from anyone else, either.
Shaking his head to clear it as Victor launched into another tirade, Reed tried again.
"I just... God, Victor, it's so pointless now, it's positively silly, but I wanted to talk to you about something else, I'm not here to plagiarize you or sabotage your design or anything of the sort, I--"
But Victor heard none of it, caught up as he was in his paranoia.
"Go." Pointing angrily at the door, his brown eyes flecked strangely with red and barely-contained rage so intense that Reed could see his hand shook a little as he pointed to the door.
"Alright, Victor," he sighed. "Alright." A few trudging steps, hands buried in his coat pockets, and then a carefully-considered pause.
"But... be careful with that second equation, I think there's an error somewhere--it could come back to bite you, with something like this--"
The door slammed behind him, and Reed heard the bolt slam into place with considerable emphasis.
He turned a final look at the closed door, wishing for all the world that there was some way of reaching the person inside--the one who only ever seemed to be locking him out or pushing him away.
On the other side, Victor had leaned back to catch his breath, one hand resting on the knob, the other holding his papers.
Reed Richards. A perpetual thorn in his side that he couldn't seem to shake off no matter how hard he tried. ...The only person on earth capable of understanding his work.
He must never know how Victor truly felt about him, that much was obvious. Fortunately, the anger had provided a cover but when he'd seen who was in his room...
Victor let go of the doorknob and rubbed his eyes tiredly. After tomorrow. After he tested the machine and knew that it could work. He'd summon up the courage to talk to Richards then; see if there might be some chance for him.
Once the work was done, once his mother's spirit was free, he'd be free too--and he could put everything right somehow after that, surely.