PG-13 - language
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The hallway was fairly crowded as Jack and Falcon head for the locker rooms for a shower. Neither were breathing heavy, although the rest of the crowd was winded, sluggish, and some were clutching at their sides. Jack had been chattering since they had left the field, and took a moment to catch her breath. Falcon seized her chance to ask a question.
“So what do you think about –“
Her question was cut short as someone larger and taller pushed by, bumping both Jack and Falcon out of the way.
“Jerk!” Jack muttered.
“Yeah,” Falcon answered, “what a –“
“Hey Fag!”
The sudden call had come from somewhere near the back of the hallway. Jack and Falcon, along with the rest of the crowd seemed to freeze.
“Hey!”
With the second call, there was a collective shift backwards, towards the walls. Jack grabbed Falcon’s forearm and dragged her backwards, fighting against Falcon’s instincts to stay and fight. Heads scanned the hallway, searching for the culprit. He emerged from between Bat and Bengal.
“Mule?” Jack murmured in disbelief.
“Are your panties on too tight? Are they affecting your hearing?”
All eyes traveled to the last person standing in the middle of the hallway. It was the same guy who had pushed past Jack and Falcon moments before. He wasn’t facing Mule, but he had stopped walking, his hands and arms hanging loose at his sides. His left hand balled briefly into a fist, making the snake tattooed on his arm look like it was moving.
“Viper?” Falcon breathed.
Jack shot her an inquisitive look.
Finally, as if he had been considering his options, Viper turned around to face Mule. A chill swept down the hallway. The hairs on the back of Falcon’s neck stood on end and she suppressed a shiver that crept down her spine. Viper’s almond eyes were narrowed and hard as stone.
“Is there a problem?” His voice was soft and measured, though Falcon could sense the weight behind it.
“Yeah,” Mule snapped. “There is. It’s you.”
The crowd edged a little further back, leaving an empty corridor surrounding the two boys and a no-man’s land between them.
“Me?” Viper’s response held a note of sarcasm in it. “Seems like you’re the one with the problem.”
Mule’s face was twisted. The normally calm exterior was gone, leaving behind a collection of emotions; anger, disgust…and was that fear? Falcon wondered.
“I can’t believe they’d let a pansy ass faggot into a program for real men.”
Viper had winced minutely at the slur, which Falcon caught, but nobody else probably had.
“Funny,” Viper said. “I haven’t seen a real man in your class yet. Closest I’ve found is a girl who recently handed you your ass on a platter.” The words were soft, but as cold as ice. Viper’s eyes slid to where Falcon stood. He gazed at her a moment, blinked, and then returned his attention to Mule.
Mule’s face had begun to turn a deep shade of brick red and his hands were clenched into fists at his side. This obviously wasn’t the response he had been hoping for. “Yeah? Well that was –“
As if anticipating what he was going to say, Viper interrupted him easily. “Real men don’t make excuses. They take their beatings and accept defeat with grace. Only ignorant homophobes –“
Mule lost it. He cried out and launched himself at Viper, fists swinging. Falcon’s natural response kicked in. She started forward, intent on breaking up the fight, but Jack still had her arm.
“Let go,” she hissed.
Jack shook her head once. “Let them fight it out. Stay out of it.”
“But –“
“Shh!”
Jack’s grip tightened, and Falcon knew that she wasn’t going to win. Her leg bounced uneasily as she watched the two fight. After a few grunts, a couple yelps, and an angry snarl, it was over. Viper had Mule’s face pressed to the tile and Mule’s arm twisted into an unnatural position, giving him leverage over his attacker.
“Are we done?” Viper quipped, exasperation coloring the question.
Mule kicked a couple times uselessly and finally let out a resigned grunt.
Viper dropped Mule’s arm and stepped away. Blood was starting to run from Viper’s nose, but he hadn’t seemed to notice it. Mule let out a string of profanities, interspersed with homophobic slurs, before turning away and stomping down the hall to his dorm room. A couple moments later, a door slammed. A corner of Viper’s mouth turned upward. He touched his fingers to his lips, where the blood was running into his mouth and then turned, heading for the locker room. As the door swung closed behind him, the tension broke. Everybody straightened up off the walls and returned to their activities.
Jack’s hand fell from Falcon’s arm and Falcon let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“That was strange,” Jack murmured as they entered the locker room.
“No kidding,” Falcon answered, spinning the combination to her locker.
She changed quickly, grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste and then headed for the sinks. Viper was standing at one of the sinks, holding a paper towel to his nose in an attempt to staunch the bleeding.
Falcon set her toiletries down. “Did he break your nose?” she paused. “I didn’t think he hit you.”
Viper pulled the paper towel away from his face, eyed it, and then replaced it. His dark eyes flickered up to meet hers in the mirror.
“It’s not broken. And it was an accident. Swung his arm and caught me with his elbow.”
Viper tipped his head back as Falcon wet her toothbrush.
“You’re supposed to tip your head forward.”
She didn’t look up as she squeezed her toothpaste onto the brush, but she could feel his stare.
“Personal experience,” she mumbled, attempting to fill the slightly awkward silence.
When Falcon finally put her toothbrush in her mouth, she found Viper with one hand braced on the sink, while his head was tilted forward like she’d told him. She watched as he continued to mop up the blood oozing from his nose as she brushed her teeth. After a couple minutes, she spit, rinsed, and asked:
“Are you okay? I’ve never seen a nose bleed that much.”
Viper checked the paper towel again, rolled his eyes, tossed it in the garbage can, and grabbed another.
“My nose bleeds more than an operating room. I’m fine.”
She nodded slowly, still watching. He seemed to ignore her for the time being. After another couple minutes, the bleeding stopped. Viper straightened up. He flashed her a dark look.
“Go ahead.”
“What?”
“Ask. I know you’re itching to. And someone should have the facts, right?”
Falcon pressed her lips together and nodded. “Okay,” she started. “What are you doing down here?”
Viper’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Apparently he hadn’t been expecting that.
“What?” he asked.
She shrugged. “The Elite never converse with the lower life forms. You have your own floor, and I assume your own bathrooms, so what are you doing here? On our floor?”
Viper studied her for a moment as if trying to decide whether she was serious, and then he laughed.
“Really? After what you just witnessed, you want to know what I’m doing down here?”
“Look,” she told him, crossing her arms and leaning back against the sink. “I’m just trying to get a feel for how things work around here. Somehow, I think your sexual orientation has less to do with what I’m looking for than your answer to my question.”
A smirk worked its way across his face. “Fine,” he conceded. “Truth is, I can’t tell you.”
“Figures.” She pushed off the sink and grabbed her things.
“Falcon,” Viper said as she reached the doorway.
“Yes?”
“You’re okay.”
Falcon wasn’t quite sure what to do with that. “Thank,” she answered lamely.
“No problem.”
Viper turned back to the mirror and Falcon continued toward her locker. As she spun her combination a few seconds later, she realized that maybe not everyone in the program was a complete jackass.
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