Written for Scaramouche for the 2009 xmas_rocks exchange
| This story is a work of fiction and therefore completely untrue. No harm or libel is meant or implied about any of the individuals named within this work and it was written without their involvement or permission. No profit is being made. |
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He was creeping alongside the building, almost mating with the grey-bricks, hands splayed as he peered down the sidewalk. There was a figure, too far away to tell who it was, but apparently it was the cause of the creeping, because there was no one else upon the street.
Smoothing his lips together he pitched his voice, low and amused. "Steven?" Whirling around, hands still flat as they faced the open air, Steven muttered something under his breath, not so much words, even if he was certain he heard 'goddamn idiot' cursed somewhere between the sounds. "What are you doing?" Steven asked, lowering his arms. The corner of his mouth twitched up. "I was about to ask you the same thing." "What I'm doing doesn't involve two people, so shoo." Flicking his fingers impatiently, Steven gestured away, already moving in the direction he had been creeping. "I would tend to think otherwise, since it looks like you're following someone," he mentioned, curling his arms together in front of his chest. "One plus one does equal two." Steven straightened, spine like steel as he slowly twisted towards him, gaze haughty but hard. "Glad to see all those math classes did you some good Joe. But in this equation there is no third person, so you can say 'So long, see you back at the apartment.' After saying that, you will leave. Then I'll wave, and proceed on my way." The other corner of his mouth turned up, smirk changing to a smug smile. "What if I don't want to say that?" Sighing heavily, and looking far too much a hard-pressed mother dealing with an unruly child, Steven pressed his knuckles to his nose. "Fine, don't say it; it will be an unspoken statement. Now just go and leave me be." "I'm not doing that either." Knowing that Steven had been following this mysterious other person, dressed in such dark, sombre clothes that they couldn't possibly be his own, was too much of a curiosity to ignore. There was a story that he was missing out on; the words, and Steven's posture, told him that he would never divulge the tale on his own, so there was no other option. Joe started forward, long strides carrying him past Steven and towards the stranger. "Joe!" Sharply hissed name, Joe chuckled, envisioning the livid expression on the singer's face. The man up ahead was unaware of the two men behind him, walking along at a leisurely pace, making it easy for Joe to make up ground. Another hiss and hurried steps padded towards him, surprisingly soft on the pavement. Steven really had gone all out to ensure a stealthy approach. A keystone cop scene turned backwards, bumbling crooks pursuing the oblivious innocent, Joe quickened his pace, putting some distance between him and Steven, drawing himself nearer to the man, now not so much in the distance; the figure was actually taller than he had thought it was, and fair hair fell to around its - wait, his shoulders, shoulders that bared a familiar looking jacket. A name fell from his lips, confusion softening the volume. Joe tried again, raising his voice. "Tom!" Except his face smashed against the bricks and mortar of a different building; hands cupped the back of his head, holding him immobile while a lanky body had somehow wrapped itself around him. He could already feel the abrasions on his cheeks, taste something metallic coating his lips, when a wash of heat over his ear was added to the mix. "Thank God, he didn't hear you." It didn't take much to throw Steven off him; a step and an elbow back, Steven twisted away, shaking his hair back over his shoulders. Straightening himself, thrusting his chin up, Joe glared at him. "What was that for?" Cocking his head, keeping his gaze serious, Steven explained. "The whole purpose of following a person-" Fingers jabbed forwards, emphatic. "- is to not let them know you're following them." Joe pushed the scolding hand to the side and gave Steven a look of his own. "Following can be done with noise. When you're being quiet, and trying not to be seen, that's considered stalking," Shoulders shrugged. "Fine, we're stalking Tom." "And why are we stalking Tom?" The authority Steven had been carrying seeped out of his body, limbs and shoulders relaxing. "I overheard him on the phone earlier. I wanted to make a call but the phone wasn't where we keep it; he had it in the hallway outside the apartment. What warrants such sneakiness? Why kidnap the phone?" He took in the information quietly, nodding slightly until a realisation pushed its way from mind to mouth. "Why didn't you just ask him?" "If someone does something sneaky, do you think they would tell you the truth? Of course not!" Steven gestured out with his arms, nearly hitting what was once a streetlamp; now it was just a scrapbook of club fliers, lost and found posters, and odd-job advertisements. "The necessity to lie is injected into their head, it's a defence mechanism. The only way to find the truth is to find it yourself." Another thought made its way into Joe's head, loud despite Steven's ravings. "Are you suffering from illusions of grandeur again?" "Am I - again?" An exasperated choke of a sigh, Steven looked away, only to jump in alarm. "He's getting away! Stop distracting me, or work with me, I'm not going to lose that brat!" Uncertain whether the term brat could really be used to describe a twenty year old man, Joe was mulling over the question while Steven was running ahead. It wasn't until several seconds of silence had settled over him that he realised he was alone. He hurried after Steven hurrying after Tom, the two of them slipping through shadow to shadow, avoiding the streetlights. Now he was definitely in a movie, a parody. "I can't believe I'm doing this," Joe muttered to himself as they followed, no, stalked their friend. Shushing him with his fingers Steven towed him along, hand on his elbow. Silence was crucial, having shortened the lead Tom had on them. He was twenty feet away at the corner of an intersection, he could possibly hear them. The street was quiet enough, the sound of music playing in a club a block away. Tom turned right, the building hiding him from view. "Come on!" Gripping his arm harder, Steven pulled him into a run. "We don't want to lose him now!" "It would be hard to lose him when he's wearing that jacket," Joe pointed out, nevertheless hurrying to keep up pace with Steven. Even though he felt bad for sneaking after his friend, this was too much fun to not get caught up in the excitement. "Thank God for that." They came up to the corner, slowing their steps out of precaution; it didn't do them any good, Tom glancing over his shoulder as they passed the edge. The smile fell from Joe's face, words of apology about to spill, but his voice was swallowed by Steven's mouth on his, the rest of his body backing him against the wall. His eyes widened, the corner revealing Tom facing them fully. Aside from his own wide eyes, Tom didn't seem to recognise them; not surprising, seeing not too many people would expect to see their friends sucking face. Tom stared for a few seconds longer, before turning back around, walking off with a bewildered but amused shake of his head. The threat was gone, but Steven's lips stayed, new but oddly familiar. "Steven?" "Yeah? Hesitating, his lips parting, Steven's tongue sliding into his mouth was all the persuasion Joe needed to stay quiet. He would tell him later about the concert Tom was going to, if they weren't too busy.
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