Chapter Text
“Are you going to tell me what’s got you so secretive this last week, or am I going to have to threaten it out of you?” Ex stares at Zed from overtop their book, their eyes narrowed with far more intensity than they should be allowed to channel at nine forty-seven in the morning. Zed ducks his head further into his breakfast, pretending like he can’t feel the heat of their gaze practically burning him. Because it’s famously never gone wrong when he’s ignored Ex in the past (just don’t ask Ex that same question), so surely it’ll go just as well now.
Ex gives him the mercy of getting to finish his tea before they stand up abruptly, grab Zed by the back of his jumper, and drag the two of them to the couch. Zed blinks up at their stony face with as much faux-innocence as he can muster, his lips wobbling in an attempt not to break into a smile. Ex sits down a second later, their words clipped. “Threaten it is! Okay, fine. Tell me what’s got you so giddy or I’ll hide your favorite mug.” Despite their cold tone and rigid demeanor there’s a split second where Ex softens, eyes flicking up and down Zed’s body in what Zed’s come to learn as their own way of checking his comfortability. It’s a constant with them, something Zed will always appreciate (but never bring attention to, because Ex is remarkably cat-like at times and will try to fight him if he does).
And because he knows Ex will never admit they’re bluffing, Zed can’t help but double down.
“Now I don’t know what you’re talking about Ex! I’ve been just as normal as always, in fact I would say my ‘giddy’ levels might even be starting to ebb!” Zed slips into his “serious scientific inquiry” voice on instinct– then immediately balks when he catches sight of the very unamused glare currently being directed at him. “I uh- now if you were going to ask me about my creativity levels, why I’d tell you they’re through the roof! Astronomically, abnormally, amazingly so!” It’s almost comical how quickly Ex’s eyes widen, if only for a second. Because if there’s one thing that Zed knows better than anyone else about Ex, it’s their love of gossip. Gossip they’re involved in, not involved in, celebrity drama, lore drops in a random comment thread, if there’s information to be learned, Ex is there to learn it (and then share with Zed over dinner, with a level of excitement typically reserved for clips of Tektonic, Vortex, or Shockvolt failing embarrassingly).
Right on cue Ex leans forward as casually as they can (which, given how much they’re attempting not to look interested, only serves to make the movement clunky and awkward), raising a single eyebrow. “Oh? You’ve been in a rut for a few weeks now, what’s got you drawing again?” Zed grins again, leaning to match Ex’s new position. Perhaps if he’d been more awake (or less distracted, something that’s almost impossible for him), he would’ve thought through this whole cat-and-mouse game for more than the two seconds it took to come out of his mouth.
Because the reason he’s drawing again is Tektonic, someone Ex hates so vehemently they took to throwing darts at his picture one very fired-up evening not long back. Someone Zed is supposed to hate too (and to be honest, he wouldn’t even say he likes Tektonic right now, more so dislikes him marginally less than before. Maybe ten percent? Twenty, max).
But now he’s set the bait, and if he doesn’t see it through in the next few minutes Ex might actually tackle him and wrestle the information out of him. And Ex grew up with siblings, so they’ve got a distinct advantage. He’s trapped in a prison of his own making for the second time in nearly as many weeks, his life slowly becoming a textbook example of the dangers of ironic timing and shortsightedness.
Which, admittedly, is a rather dramatic way to sum things up, but the situation is practically begging for it!
Zed sighs dramatically, a grin breaking onto his face without warning. “I met a muse. An honest to Aeor muse, I didn’t think those were things real people experienced!” A muse. It sounds so formal when he puts it that way, like Tektonic applied for the position and just barely made the cut, or he descended from the skies in a golden light, or really anything other than “he showed up at my job and scared me for thirty minutes straight.” But it’s impossible to deny the effect he’s had on Zed’s work, mostly because there’s now work to be affected. A lot of it, in an even more surprising turn of events.
He’s barely been able to put his pencil down over the last week, sketching between meals, during his shift, before his shift, after his shift, he’d even started sketching during his and Ex’s nightly trashy television binge, much to Ex’s chagrin (which, really, it’s not Zed’s fault that Kayliegh and Kylie had similar names and similar problems, anyone could’ve mixed them up!) It’s almost– no it is embarrassing to admit that all of it has been of Tektonic too, moments Zed remembered from their conversation and the fight with Alkaline, and any footage he can find on social media or news outlets. Zed’s probably drawn Tektonic’s face no less than fifty times by now, he can practically do it from memory.
“Now you already know I’m going to ask you who it is, so out with it!” Ex swats his shoulder playfully, their eyes sparking to life with an idea. “Or if you don’t want to, I could just get your sketchbook and see if I can guess who it is!” Zed’s face pales immediately in spite of how small the stakes actually are. Ex going through his sketchbook is a semi-frequent occurrence, given that Zed almost never has anything to hide, especially not from them, but something about these sketches feel more personal, in a way.
Whatever that means.
Ex notices his change in demeanor almost instantly, immediately leaning back to give him some space without making it too obvious that they’re readjusting their approach. The smile that makes its way to their face is slightly more strained than before, though not enough to make Zed feel too bad about potentially suffocating the mood with his shroud of mystery. Zed shifts closer to the end of the couch (which “just so happens” to be closer to the door to his room, for a quick exit if needed to avoid a pillow to the face) before finally letting out a long breath, unable to completely stop a hint of excitement from creeping into his voice. “Okay so don’t kill me, but in some crazy turn of events, Tektonic became my muse?” He shrugs sheepishly, halfway bracing himself for whatever Ex might say. What he hadn’t expected was complete and total silence, neither of them moving so much as an inch for nearly an entire minute. Every nerve in Zed’s body is antsy, practically screaming for him to move, or laugh, or do anything to break the silence and lighten the mood (not that the mood is necessarily heavy, but silence is something he’s been incapable of tolerating for a long time now).
After what feels like an eternity, Ex finally sighs, pinching the bridge of their nose in resignation. “I can’t- only you would make your muse one of the three guys you can’t stand most.” A quiet laugh slips through their stony facade, so faint that Zed has to strain to hear it. As soon as he does, all the remaining bits of tension in his body melt away, his next words stolen by the cascade of nervous giggles he’d been holding back. Ex watches him laugh for a few moments before lightly tossing a pillow at him, Zed falling backwards dramatically and accidentally winding himself (which was probably Ex’s goal, given he’s now too out of breath to keep laughing). “Well, I suppose as long as you’re having fun, it’s not the worst thing. If we have to see him all over the news anyway, you might as well get something out of it.”
Zed shakes his head at Ex with a large grin, throwing the pillow back at them with slightly more force. “Only you could find a way to make this sound like a business transaction, did they teach you that at paramedic school?” Ex flips him off silently as they slowly stand up, Zed taking that as his cue to scramble off the couch and towards his room, just barely dodging Ex’s lunge at him. “Ack! Don’t kill me, you need my rent money!” For about three whole seconds, Zed’s almost convinced he’ll be able to make it to his room without injury.
And then Ex’s hand wraps around his ankle, dragging him to the floor, and he’s quickly reminded of how much faster Ex is than him.
By the time the two of them are done wrestling (despite their many protests, Ex definitely took it easy on him this time) Zed’s completely and utterly exhausted. Ex won’t give him the decency of looking even half as winded as he feels, but they’re still noticeably tired by the end of it, lying on the floor next to him, hair completely loose from its ponytail (Zed tried to blind them with their hair as a surprise attack. Instead, they took the opportunity to pin him and try to smother him with a pillow. Again).
“You- you’re more slippery than you look, Zedaph.” Ex glares halfheartedly in his direction, Zed (maturely, like the mature adult he is) sticking his tongue out in response to hearing his full name. Ex only does that when they’re too stubborn to admit Zed’s bested them at something. At least that means he can take satisfaction in making them have to earn their win at least a little.
Zed slowly gathers himself to his feet, helping Ex up instinctively before shambling to his door. “And you fight quite dirty, Exsuma. I’ll see you in the morning, assuming I don’t die of my injuries overnight.” They roll their eyes again, waving him off. Zed shuts his door dramatically, falling into bed immediately after. He really should change into his pajamas, but his jumper is more than comfortable enough, and his bed’s already lulled him halfway to sleep. Trying to get up now might as well be the same as asking him to climb a mountain– insane and absolutely not happening. All he manages to accomplish is shimmying out of his belt before exhaustion wins out and he slips into sleep.
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The day of the art market, Zed very nearly forgets it’s happening.
Once a month the artists of the city get together in Aqua Park and put together an absolutely stunning display of stands, some with work for sale, some just to gain exposure, and others still actively looking for future job opportunities. No matter the reason, it’s one of the most lively events the city hosts (even if it’s very much an unofficial event), and absolutely way too stressful for Zed to ever consider showing at. He likes his art, sure, but selling it? No matter how many times Ex’s tried to convince him, the mere thought of putting himself out there like that makes him nauseous.
But Pearl? Pearl’s work is breathtaking, intricate paintings spanning massive canvases, each one taking her months of detailed work to make. And because that isn’t cool enough on its own, she even puts on a live painting demonstration at her booth (Zed’s starstruck every time he sees it, and he sees it every month). Due to her live paintings, however, she needs help keeping an eye on her money, handling sales, and generally keeping things running smoothly.
And that’s where Zed comes in.
Or at least it would be, if he hadn’t overslept and nearly missed the bus he needed to get there on time. Pearl’s counting on him to help her set up some of the larger paintings, the idea of being late was so distressing that Zed accidentally managed to throw on his oldest sweater, a pink and yellow checkerboard pattern that’s been worn so many times the yellow is practically gray and there’s more holes in the sleeves than actual sleeve. By the time he’d realized he was already running into the park, cramming the last bite of an untoasted bagel into his mouth.
“I’m here! I’m here, don’t worry!” Zed runs up to Pearl’s booth, choking slightly on the bagel for a brief moment before he manages to get himself under control. “I’m so sorry, I was fighting with Ex last night and they really tired me out, I completely forgot to set my alarm and then I almost missed the bus and-”
Pearl slings an arm around his shoulders good-naturedly, one hand tousling his hair with enough strength to knock his brain silly. “Don’t even worry about it! You’re just in time to help me get the paintings up, I’ve got a few smaller ones this month.” Zed tosses his satchel (still covered in dried blood, unfortunately, a tumble through his washer only served to soak his bag for several days straight) into the extra chair before joining Pearl in front of the table. He automatically starts to set up the easel for the live demonstration, taking extra care to ensure the it's anchored to the table with as much sticky putty as he’s able to comfortably fit (he’d taken to doing that after the first and last time he’d put the easel too close to the edge and one brush from an unassuming customer had sent it crashing to the ground).
Even though Pearl hadn’t been mad at him (she hadn’t even flinched at the hours of work that’d just been ruined), Zed had nearly died of embarrassment. Ever since then, he’s been sure to take a little extra time making sure everything’s completely steady.
By the time the first patrons actually start to arrive, Zed’s already properly tired, all but collapsing into his chair before pulling out his sketchbook and starting to idly draw. Like every other session over the last few weeks he starts to doodle Tektonic again, this time focusing on the split second of pure intensity that overcame his face when he finally confronted Zed about his healing. As terrifying as it’d been in the moment, there’s something equally as captivating about it, in the way his entire body seemed to come to life in an instant. Other than a few usual customers stopping by to admire Pearl’s work (which means Zed has to stop drawing long enough to keep an eye on things) he barely looks up from his sketchbook, each iteration bringing him closer to capturing the moment as vividly as he remembers it.
“Woah, how long have you been working on that? That’s insane!” An animated, close voice suddenly appears in front of Zed, causing him to practically jump out of his seat in surprise, dropping his pencil on the ground from fright. He ducks down to grab it quickly (and if it also happens to hide his flushed cheeks from the embarrassment of the voice laughing at him, it’s an added bonus), carefully wiping it off and placing it back inside his sketchbook before turning to look at who’s standing in front of him. The second he does, the flush in his cheeks doubles.
The man standing in front of him is pretty. Curious red eyes stare at him in slight confusion, his flaming hair drifting slightly in the breeze. He’s wearing a casual red ribcage hoodie and black ripped jeans, contrasting his starkly pale skin beautifully. Zed is distantly aware of the fact that he’s staring, certainly, yet he can’t find it in himself to pull his eyes away. Not when the stranger’s face splits into a grin, revealing slight fangs and a level of excitement that Zed didn’t know was possible.
His hands are itching to sketch him before he walks away, but given how weird that would be, he refrains.
Zed smiles back at the patron, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I lost track of time honestly, maybe thirty minutes? Forty-five? I’m trying to capture something specific, I haven’t quite gotten it yet.” The man takes a step closer (to stop blocking the pathway, Zed has to remind himself, not for any other reasons), looking down at him with fascination. Zed swallows hard, hesitating for just a moment before reopening his sketchbook to the page and turning it to face his observer. Despite the hustle and bustle of the market everything goes quiet as he watches the man’s eyes move from one page to the next, carefully flipping the page to reveal even more sketches of Tektonic.
After a few moments of looking the man slides Zed’s sketchbook back to him, a confusing look on his face that Zed can’t quite decipher. “I’m in awe, genuinely. Do you sell any of your work?” He pauses abruptly, an awkward chuckle coming out of his mouth. “Sorry, I should introduce myself- I’m Tango. If I’m disturbing you please let me know, I just got drawn in by your work and completely forgot my manners.” Tango. The name fits him, somehow, something about his energy. Zed grins again, holding his hand out.
“I’m Zed, and you’re not bothering me at all! I don’t sell, I’m just here to support Pearl.” Zed nods over to the other side of the table, where Pearl’s currently painting someone’s dog. Tango barely glances in her direction, the full intensity of his gaze staying on Zed’s face (which still hasn’t managed to lose its flush, and probably won’t if Tango keeps looking at him like that). Zed lets out a short breath before leaning forward slightly. “If you’re willing though, I’d love to draw you.” It’s bold, far more bold than he’s ever allowed himself to be, but Tango is gorgeous, and interested in his work, and it’s a good way to talk to him longer. Worst case scenario, he says no and walks away (at least that’s what he’s hoping the worst case scenario is, for all he knows he might get judo-flipped at any moment).
To his immense delight, Tango nods enthusiastically, his gaze immediately sliding to the chair next to Zed. “Can I sit there?” Zed nods mutely, suddenly coming to terms with the fact that his gamble paid off. He’s never drawn a live model before, what if he makes him look ugly? It’d be hard, nearly impossible, given how attractive he already is, but if there’s anything Zed’s good at, it’s the impossible (and accidents). Tango sits down in a blur of motion, red eyes staring back into Zed’s a moment later. “Do you need me to pose or anything?”
Zed grabs his sketchbook and flips to a fresh page, already starting to loosely block out some of Tango’s facial features. “You can move however you want, I’ll adjust to you.” Drawing Tango feels familiar, his face quickly starting to take shape in the rough marks. Zed sketches a quick sheep on the next page just to get the last of his nerves out, taking the opportunity to stare at Tango more closely as he does. He never seems to stop moving (at least not fully) similar to how Tektonic had fidgeted, similar to how Zed fidgets. His ears are slightly pointed at the tip, his pupils are less circular than he’d initially realized, and there’s a light smattering of freckles across his cheeks and nose, so faint they nearly fade away in the light.
Tango’s voice snaps him out of his daze for the second time, one hand carefully gesturing at his sketchbook. “How did you- you weren’t even looking and you just drew a sheep! How do you do that?” Zed’s struck by how genuine Tango sounds in his surprise, not even a hint of judgement at the fact that his drawing of choice was a sheep, or at Zed’s general awkwardness for their entire interaction.
“I just really like sheep. I have a ton of plushies, each with a different pun. My funniest have to be either Shearlock Holmes or Wooliam, and they’re easy to draw so it’s a good warm-up!” Zed laughs to himself as he goes back to sketching Tango, already more at ease now that he’s talking about something familiar. Tango shifts forward, eyes darting down to the sketchbook briefly. Zed glances up at him, catching his gaze for another quick second. “What do you think so far, am I doing you justice?”
Tango snorts, waving his hand. “Please, I think you’ve made me look far better than I do. If you’re trying to flatter me, it’s working.” He winks at the end of sentence, the simple action nearly sending Zed’s heart into overdrive. “I couldn’t possibly ask you to harm your sketchbook for me, but if you’re willing to give me your number, would you text it to me?” He- Tango wants his number? Zed’s mind starts to race with possibilities, with hopes, because how could he not? Tango wants his number.
For the art piece. He has to remember that (not that it stops his traitorous heart from fluttering anyway, setting himself up for a much greater disappointment later).
Zed mentally shakes himself back into focus, already nodding in agreement. “Yeah of course! I’m glad you found it acceptable, you’re actually my first live model!” Tango’s fingers pause for a brief second at the statement, the gears in his head seemingly freezing up for one long moment. The next he’s back to writing down his number, now pointedly avoiding Zed’s eyes. A small spike of anxiety hits Zed, his brain quickly replaying the last few minutes to figure out where he could’ve gone wrong so abruptly. Nothing sticks out as wrong, but it’s impossible to pretend that Tango isn’t acting differently now.
While Zed’s trying to figure out what he can say to potentially salvage the situation, Tango gently slides the piece of paper with his number over, his voice somewhat tight. “Does that mean you don’t draw your partner often?” His- partner? Is he- Tango’s trying to figure out if he’s seeing someone. People only do that when they’re interested in someone, at least that’s the only reason Zed could see someone doing that. It might explain why Tango’s demeanor had changed so quickly too, if he’d gotten nervous.
Unless Zed’s misinterpreting all of this, and he’s about to make the biggest fool of himself that he ever has (and he’s been foolish many times in his life, more than the average person for sure).
“I’m not seeing anyone, actually! So no, you’re definitely my first live model.” Zed can’t bring himself to meet the gaze he can feel pressing into him, instead ducking his head to type Tango’s number into his phone, sending off a simple “Hey, this is Zed from the market!” text. When he finally gets the courage to look up again, he nearly melts on the spot from how giddy Tango looks at his response, his grin spreading across his entire face, and his hair popping and crackling more frequently.
Tango opens his mouth as if he’s about to speak before suddenly clamping it shut, scrambling back to the other side of the table. “I’m glad I could have that honor.” His smile doesn’t fade for a moment as he glances down at his phone, Zed’s text lighting up his screen. “I unfortunately am running late for something, but hopefully I’ll hear from you soon?” Before Zed can respond Tango’s already run off into the crowd, leaving Zed staring dumbfounded after him. His phone buzzes lightly a second later, Tango hearting his initial text and responding with “This is Tango, your very first live model ;)”
Holy shit.
Pearl glides over next to him, whistling lightly. “Woah there, seems like things were getting heated over here!” Zed’s face manages to flush even brighter (which he didn’t even think was possible at this point) at the teasing, his hands clumsily locking his phone. “He’s a good-looking one, good for you man!” Pearl laughs as she drifts back towards her easel, Zed muttering something incomprehensible back in response.
The rest of the market passes by in a blur of exchanged texts with Tango, the two of them immediately bonding over their love of science and bad television. Zed’s face hurts from how much he’s been smiling and laughing, finally reluctantly ending the conversation when his phone chirps out a warning for its final ten percent. As soon as he gets back to his apartment the conversation continues well into the early hours of the morning before they both have to turn in for the night (because sleeping before work is pretty crucial), a promise to chat later brightening Zed’s day even as he trudges back to the Permit Office.
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Zed wishes he could explain how he ended up dangling off the edge of the very tall roof of Gigacorp, he really does. But he can’t. No, all he can do at the moment is desperately cling onto the ledge and try not to look down.
Ideally somewhere in there he also figures out how to not die, but this seems like a beneficial moment to practice taking things one step at a time.
Things were meant to be simple– hand-deliver some Permit Office mumbo jumbo to the secretary at Gigacorp, and then go back to work. And everything started out that way, sure, but then there was a supervillain attack, and one thing led to another, and now Zed’s about ten seconds away from falling a considerably far distance to his imminent demise.
Painfully, the unhelpful voice in his head supplies.
Somewhere above him a door slams open, the noise shaking the roof enough that Zed’s tired grip slips from the stones, sending him plummeting. Zed shuts his eyes as soon as he realizes what’s happening, too afraid to look down and see what’s awaiting him. Falling doesn’t feel quite as terrifying as he’d expected– it doesn’t feel like anything at all, surprisingly enough.
“Zedaph! Holy shit that actually- Zedaph can you open your eyes for me? You’re okay, I promise.” Is that– Tektonic’s voice floats down from the top of the roof, the undercurrent of fear beneath his words unsettling enough to pull Zed’s eyes open. Half of Tektonic’s body is leaning over the ledge, one of his arms outstretched in control of– Zed looks down quickly. Part of the building had grown outwards to catch him, sloping gently so he would’ve rolled slightly before stopping. If he hadn’t been entirely convinced he was going to die he might’ve been confused on how he didn’t realize he wasn’t falling, but it’s not like he would know what plummeting from a skyscraper should feel like either. He’d imagine that most people who do know probably didn’t survive to share their experiences.
Zed waves stupidly up at Tektonic, his brain struggling to name what he’s feeling. On the one hand, he’s not dead! That’s significantly better than his situation was shaping up to be just thirty seconds ago, so maybe he should be happy? On the other hand, he’s still sitting over certain death, the only thing keeping him steady Tektonic’s ability to concentrate (something Zed has absolutely zero faith in, given how many of Tektonic’s interviews he’s seen), so maybe he should be panicked? He did almost just die after all, panic doesn’t seem like a bad choice in this context. But somehow he feels too numb for that, as if this is just a normal Tuesday at the office. “Hi! Did you have to run up all those stairs? Cause if so, props to you for not being completely winded.” Ah. Out of all his possible options, it seems like he settles on shock. Great.
One moment Zed’s sitting on the tenuous, rocky platform, staring blankly above him with his head completely empty of thoughts. The next his feet are back on solid ground, the avalanche of terror he expected to feel while falling suddenly crashing over him. His knees buckle almost immediately, sending him pitching forward. Tektonic grabs him before Zed fully realizes he’s falling, carefully lowering both of them to the ground. Zed should put some distance between the two of them, just for comfortability’s sake, but instead his hands (which are now terribly shaky, probably a delayed reaction to how long he was dangling) clutch tightly at Tektonic’s arms, his mind unable to process that he’s no longer in the air.
Tektonic, to his credit, doesn’t comment on what has to be the uncomfortable grip Zed’s got on him, instead shifting slightly to wrap his arms loosely around Zed. “Hey you’re okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you, I won't let you fall.” His voice is low, somewhat apprehensive as Zed adjusts his grip to essentially wrap Tektonic in a tight hug, his shaking traveling from his hands to his entire body. With anyone else, in any other situation, Zed would be completely mortified by his reaction here, let alone would never let anyone get close enough to hug him relatively unprompted. Right now though, Tektonic’s gentle touches and soft words are the only thing helping him calm down as his brain very slowly starts to understand what’s happening.
It’s only a little while later (Zed would like to think it wasn’t longer than a minute or two, but he’s almost certain it was at least double that) that he starts to get control of himself again, his shaking gradually fading out until he’s no longer dizzy and frantic. Zed shifts his arms slightly, not fully pulling them away from Tektonic, but also no longer squeezing him half to death (the fact that he put up with that for that long is probably the truest testament to him being a hero that Zed’s seen so far. Saving him notwithstanding).
Neither of them speak for a moment, instead just staring at each other. Zed’s eyes travel Tektonic’s face leisurely, taking advantage of their closeness to study his facial features more thoroughly. Soft freckles peek out from the bottom of his mask, Zed making a mental note to update his sketches as soon as he’s back home. Tektonic smiles down at him, Zed’s face burning red with the embarrassment of being caught staring. “Sorry, I just-” Zed cuts himself off before he can say something stupid, something else pulling his attention away instead.
There’s a buzzing under his skin that’s only growing louder the longer he stops to listen to it.
The same type of buzzing he’d felt when watching the fight with Alkaline, the same buzzing he spent most of his life training himself to hear. Tektonic is injured. Zed pulls back abruptly, Tektonic’s arms falling away to let him move easily. A small part of him mourns the contact as soon as it’s gone, but he shoves that deep inside to focus on what’s important– his senses. There’s nothing immediately visible, now that Zed’s able to get a full look at him, but it only takes a few seconds with his eyes closed to determine the source. “You’ve got a cut on your side, let me heal you.” The words slip out of his mouth before his brain even gets done thinking the thought, not a hint of his usual anxiety about healing anywhere to be seen.
Tektonic’s eyes shoot up in surprise as his mouth falls slightly open. “I- are you-” He chuckles awkwardly, carefully tugging up his shirt so Zed can get a look at the wound. “First of all, how did you know that? Second, are you sure? You don’t have to heal me just because I saved you, that’s literally my job.” He’s right. He’s right, really, Zed has no real reason to offer, especially not when every time he does, he puts himself at risk of being discovered. But– he can’t not offer. Tektonic did save him, whether or not it’s his job doesn’t change that in the slightest. Not only that, he let Zed treat him like a glorified stuffed animal after the fact, not complaining even as Zed must’ve been inadvertently pressing into his injured side.
And besides all of that, something about it just feels right.
Zed smiles lightly at him, shrugging his shoulders. “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t, the wound doesn’t seem too bad.” Tektonic only stares as Zed moves next to him again, watching as he examines the cut more closely. “As for how, I couldn’t tell you! Just part of how my powers work, it’s like an itch under my skin that gets worse the more severe the injuries are. I probably would’ve noticed it sooner if I wasn’t freaking out.” The cut is a few inches long, and luckily not too deep. Tektonic’s suit seems to have kept most of the dirt out, which should make the process even easier. “Thanks for that, by the way- letting me freak out, I mean.”
A gentle hand touches his shoulder, Zed just barely managing to stop himself from flinching at the unexpected contact. “Yeah, of course. I’ll never push you away.” Zed’s cheeks start to burn again at the same time that Tektonic starts to choke on air, sputtering his way into his next sentence. “I- I mean- anyone. It’s uh- it’s part of our training, at Evo, about different responses people have to near-death situations.” Tektonic won’t look him in the eyes, his hair twisting rampantly and disrupting the otherwise complete silence.
For a moment Zed completely forgets that he’s still sitting there for a reason, before remembering and glancing back at Tektonic. “Are you okay if I touch you? Just to heal you, it requires contact.” Tektonic nods and Zed lightly touches his knee, letting his healing wash over him in slow waves. Once he’s fairly confident in his concentration he lets his eyes slip shut, his head tilting slightly. “I didn’t hear any quips out of you today, finally realize you aren’t as funny as you think you are?” Now that Zed’s heart is back to operating at a healthy speed, it’s all too easy to slip back into his familiar distaste for Tektonic’s general demeanor, to slip back into something normal and safe (it doesn’t hurt that starting to feel the pain makes it easier for him to be irritable). And if it just so happens to also alleviate some of the awkwardness of healing someone, then that’s just an added bonus.
Tektonic scoffs, and Zed’s startled to find that he can picture the expression on Tektonic’s face even with his eyes closed. It’s been a month since Tektonic came to the Permit Office and he’s already drawn him enough to match expressions to inflections, he might have a problem. Not that he’s much better with Tango either, he’s only known him half as long and drawn him nearly as many times as he has Tektonic, fueled by their hours of text chains. “I’m hilarious, I’ll have you know. And I had plenty of quips earlier on, but somewhere around flight seventeen of the stairs I got a little over it.” He laughs to himself, the sound trailing off into a pained hiss as he jostles his side. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten your suggestion though, I’m just waiting for the perfect moment.”
The amount of smugness in Tektonic’s voice forces Zed to open his eyes just so he can roll them. “Oh, there hasn’t been the right supervillain attack in the last month, is that it? And here I thought your memory was just as bad as your ability to catch villains.” This time he’s not able to stop himself from laughing at the shock on Tektonic’s face, biting back a wince as his own side twinges in mirrored discomfort.
“That was a low blow Zedaph, a low blow! One of these days I’ll figure out the real reason you dislike me, mark my words. We both know it isn’t the puns, but I’ll get to the bottom of it eventually.” Tektonic crosses his arms dramatically, Zed’s hand nearly slipping off his knee with how abruptly he moves. “Oops uh- sorry! Didn’t mean to make your job harder.”
Zed pulls back after a final moment of concentration, satisfied with the look of Tektonic’s skin, newly free of its unwelcome wound. “Well now, that would imply that we’re going to keep running into each other. For both our sakes, we better hope that’s not the case.” Despite the cold nature of his words it’s impossible for Zed to not crack a smile as he speaks, offering a hand to Tektonic to help him up. “Especially if it means I have to keep dangling off buildings, you can count me all the way out.” Tektonic openly laughs at that, holding open the door to the stairwell.
The two of them start the long descent down the stairs, their footsteps echoing down the many, many floors. “How about this?” Tektonic breaks the comfortable silence suddenly, his entire face alight with what Zed would guess is mischief. “I’m going to make it my mission to save you at least once every time I’m working. Whether it’s from falling off a building or getting splashed by a puddle, I’m going to save you from something whenever I see you.” It’s a ridiculous premise, one that means they’ll have to keep running into each other. Zed should refuse, tell him to focus on doing his actual job.
But the concept is interesting, and it’d give him more drawing material.
Zed holds his hand out with a sparkle in his eye. “Consider it a deal.”
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Tango’s an idiot.
That in and of itself is nothing new, of course, but this might be his biggest display of idiocy in all his years of life.
“Wait, so let me get this straight. He was clearly into you at the art market? And you two text all the time? But when he sees you as Tektonic?” Skizz can’t stop himself from snickering halfway through his “question,” all but kicking his feet as he crosses from the kitchen to the couch to get a better look at Tango’s face.
Tango sighs, dropping his head into his hands. “He can barely stand me. We banter and all, sure, but he’s constantly closing himself off. Not to mention he barely likes any of us, I think he thinks we’re completely incompetent.” How did he manage to get himself into this situation? Only he would manage to fall for someone that can’t stand his alter ego, and only he would then proceed to flirt with them out of costume and end up in the situation he’s in now. Where Zed is clearly into him—at least if him reciprocating Tango’s flirts is anything to go off of—but also can’t stand him at the same time.
And doesn’t know they’re the same person.
Tango’s an idiot.
Impulse pats his shoulder placatingly, staring off at their dark television in thought. “But you said he’s drawn you no less than a dozen times?” The sketchbook. The other part of this that doesn’t make any sense. Zed clearly doesn’t like Tektonic, it doesn’t take a genius to figure that out, but he draws him frequently? Accurate sketches too, the type that take time. Granted Tango’s not an artist, sure, but he can’t imagine dedicating that much time to constantly drawing someone he couldn’t stand.
And then there’s the stupid deal, the one he posed without thinking it through longer than it took for him to say the words out of his mouth. Zed agreed to that without hesitating, hasn’t brought it up once in the last six days of Tango “saving” him from an untied shoe, getting mugged, his phone dying, almost getting hit by a car, being hungry, and getting locked in a building.
It’s almost impressive how much danger one person can get into without meaning to.
The whole thing is enough to give him a headache the more he tries to make sense of it. “Yeah, there were pages of drawings. Pages.” Skizz giggles at Tango’s exasperation, forcing Tango to lightly swat at him. “Oh quiet, you. Can’t you see I’m lament-ificating over here?” Skizz does not, in fact, stop giggling, instead redoubling his efforts into a full body laugh. Tango grumbles as he flips Skizz off, leaning into Impulse dramatically. “Impy, Skizz is being so mean to me! My feelings are so wounded, only a kiss will make me feel better.” He bats his eyes at Impulse with a slight pout, grinning when he's rewarded with the kiss he was after.
Skizz pulls both of them against him on the couch abruptly, wrapping his wings around them and letting out a soft chirp. Impulse's grin turns sharp, flicking Skizz’s head. “Looks like bird brain here was jealous. What are you going to do when Tango gets his new boyfriend?” Tango laughs as Skizz smacks Impulse with his wing and the two of them start to fight. As silly as they're being, it's still bizarre to think about.
At the end of this all—at least at the end of how he’d like it to go—he and Zed will be dating. Meaning things are going to change. Not massively, at least not as far as he’s aware, but it’s just been him, Impulse, and Skizz for more years than any of them like to count at this point. Assuming, of course, that Zed will actually want to go out with him once Tango reveals his “secret” identity. And assuming that he’s going to be okay dating someone poly, especially if he’s not interested in Impulse or Skizz. And assuming that Impulse and Skizz will be okay with him dating someone that might not be interested in them– the more he thinks this through the more things there are to be anxious about, each possibility spawning a dozen other questions with their own possibilities.
A wing batters against his forehead softly, both Impulse and Skizz staring at him with mild concern. They exchange quick glances before Impulse tugs him to sit in the middle, both of them leaning their heads on his shoulders. “What’s bothering you Tangs? And don’t say nothing, because that was your worried face.” Impulse smirks good-naturedly, his gaze flicking up to just above Tango’s head. “Not to mention your hair nearly burned Skizz’s feathers off.” Curse his stupid traitorous hair for being stupid and– well, traitorous.
Tango huffs even as he relaxes into their gentle touches, scowling at the bookshelf across the room. “You both suck.” At the sound of half-stifled giggles he points his finger aggressively at Skizz’s chest, deepening his scowl to prevent himself from laughing. “Not a word out of you.” Skizz mimes zipping his lips shut, tossing the “key” behind him. Tango watches the display with fond amusement, sinking further into his and Impulse’s arms. “Just thinkin’ ‘bout what happens next. If things work out with him. Are you guys okay with this? Like really?” Tango hates how vulnerable he sounds, even if he’s never been afraid to be open with them before and still isn’t now.
Skizz presses a soft kiss to his forehead. “Of course we are, dude. Have you seen yourself? You’re smiling at your phone like a lovesick teenager, Aeor knows we just want you to be happy.” Somehow, despite Tango already knowing that, just hearing it from Skizz’s voice automatically melts away some of his lingering doubts. They would’ve said something by now if they weren’t comfortable with what was happening, they would’ve said something nearly three weeks ago when he first got Zed’s number at the market. Still, Tango turns to face Impulse with a healthy dose of anxiety buzzing under his skin, trying—and failing—not to look terrified for his response.
A warm hand intertwines with his as Impulse squeezes gently, the same pattern he always does to reassure Tango when he starts to spiral too quickly. “If you don’t ask him out, I might kick you out myself.” The bluntness of the statement gets Tango to break almost instantly, a choked wheeze escaping his mouth. Skizz cracks next, his body shaking with enough laughter to keep Tango from catching his breath easily. As revenge Tango lightly taps Impulse’s tail with his foot, cackling even harder at the full-body jump Impulse makes from the unexpected touch. Within thirty seconds all three of them are desperately gasping for air, halfway collapsed on top of each other. By the time they even get close to pulling themselves together Tango’s already feeling a hundred times better, a familiar buzz in his pocket only adding to his chipper mood.
He pulls his phone out as carefully as he can manage—in hopes of not alerting either of his overly-attentive boyfriends, which he should’ve known was a futile effort—quickly checking the notification. Zed’s name stares back at him, the text sending a flight of butterflies right through his stomach. “Would you want to get coffee today? I need a way to kill the first forty-five of my shift and Ex is off paramedic-ing and abandoning me :( “ Tango rereads the message in rapid succession, an uncontrollable grin spreading to his face. This is the closest setting to a “date” that Zed’s posed yet, is it reading into things too much to be excited? A pointless question, honestly, because he is excited, no way around it.
He’s so excited, in fact, that he completely forgets to keep his cool, calm, and collected poker face up.
Skizz yanks the phone out of his hands just as Tango’s finishing the text for the fourth time, his own eyes scanning over it briefly. “Oooh, Top! He’s basically asking you on a dateeeee.” Just as quickly as Skizz snatched his phone he hands it back over, his grin shifting to one that always means trouble. “You should let us meet him! We only want the best for you, of course, which we can’t be sure of until we get to vet him ourselves!” Oh boy. As much as Tango wants to immediately shut the idea down for a dozen different reasons, it’s not a bad one. After all, he wants Impulse and Skizz to meet Zed, and it might even make the poly part of their conversation a little easier.
Plus it has the added bonus of shifting the focus away from this being a date. Because as much as he wants to go on a date with Zed, his conscience won’t even let him consider it until he comes clean about being Tektonic– something he’s not quite ready to do yet. It’d be completely disingenuous to date him without revealing the truth, but just telling Zed he doesn’t want to go on a date with him isn’t at all the message he wants to get across. The text left just enough ambiguity for Tango to invite Impulse and Skizz along without it being weird, it’s practically a golden opportunity.
And if Zed really does want to date him, there’s a chance he comes right out and says it when Tango suggests bringing the other two along. The downside to all of this, of course, is the same as the upside– Impulse and Skizz will be there. And there's nothing they love more than laughing at him.
Nevermind the fact that he would do the same, if he was in their position.
“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this, but fine. You have to be on your best behavior though, both of you.” Tango glares at both of them as intensely as he can manage—which isn’t much, given his still-flushed cheeks—before opening his phone to type out a response. “Sounds like a plan! Mind if I bring along-” Tango pauses for a moment, his fingers tapping against the screen mindlessly. He’s mentioned Impulse and Skizz to Zed before—no less than a hundred times at least—but introducing them as friends feels like a lie, and introducing them as his boyfriends might make Zed think he’s a scumbag for flirting while being in a relationship. That’s a conversation best saved for when they’re face-to-face, where he can visually see if he’s putting his foot in his mouth– Zed’s “lying” face is pitifully easy to read. “-Impulse and Skizz?” There. Simple, to the point, and not misrepresenting their relationship in any way.
Impulse pops to his feet, his tail lightly smacking Tango’s thigh. “When have we ever not been on our best behavior?” He grins angelically at the words, causing Tango to raise a single unamused eyebrow. Some of the chaos bleeds out of Impulse’s gaze as he smiles again, running a hand through his hair. “I’m excited to meet him, really! It’s not every day someone loves and hates the same person so passionately without realizing it, this is better than half the reality shows we watch!”
Tango’s phone buzzes again, a short text sealing the deal. “The more the merrier! See you soon!”
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Tango’s fingers tap against the worn wooden table anxiously, his leg bouncing in time to the noise. They’d gotten to the cafe early—mainly thanks to Impulse’s insistence—and now Tango’s stomach is trying to digest itself from the inside out as they wait. His chocolate croissant sits untouched next to him, though Tango can’t help but notice Skizz’s hand creeping towards it.
“If you even think about touching my food, I’ll bite you.” Tango doesn’t bother trying to tear his eyes away from the door as he warns Skizz, too worried about missing Zed approaching. The last thing he needs is to be scared out of his skin while he’s already on-edge, causing an earthquake in the middle of the cafe might be a dead giveaway of who he is. Skizz scoffs in exaggerated disbelief, Tango biting back a small laugh as he finally turns to take in the performance he knows is about to happen.
Skizz crosses his arms in a pout, sipping his coffee sullenly. “I can’t believe you’d think so lowly of me Top, I’m actually offended I’ll have you know!” Impulse pats his arm with a patronizing look on his face, snickering when Skizz turns his scowl onto him. “And you’re not exactly helping, Dippledop. Can’t a man get any support around here?”
Just as Tango opens his mouth—to be supportive, of course, like he’s known for being—a familiarly curious voice startles him, tentative amusement peaking out behind the words. “Depends, are you willing to split that croissant with me?” Tango turns around quickly to see Zed standing just short of the table, his hair somewhat tousled by the wind and his hands repeatedly twisting the strap of his messenger bag. Tango blinks stupidly in his direction, a soft smile slowly sliding onto his face.
Impulse gestures at the empty space, sitting up a little straighter in his chair. “Since Tango here doesn’t seem to remember his manners, I suppose I’ll offer you a seat?” Zed sits down a second later, carefully looping his bag around the back of the chair. His sketchbook is peeking out from the open corner, a small part of Tango itching to see what new sketches Zed’s added to it since the last time they’d met up. “I’m Impulse, by the way. That big dramatic lump over there is Skizz, pleasure to meet you.”
Zed’s eyes flick between the two of them quickly as his hands drop to the bottom of his sweater, worrying the fabric between them. “Zed, it’s nice to meet you both.” He turns back to Skizz quickly, his shoulders set in a familiar look of determination. “Serious offer, by the way. I’ll back you up against Tango if you give me half of the reward.” Tango laughs under his breath at the intensity of the negotiations even as he slides his croissant slightly closer to himself, one arm blocking it off from the rest of the table protectively. He wouldn’t put it past the three of them to suddenly gang up on him if they thought it'd be funniest, and his snack is not going to become the newest victim of their cruel jokes and alliances. A small bit of tension releases from his shoulders as he watches them continue to bargain and scam each other. Nothing’s gone terribly wrong yet, fortunately, which takes away a lot of pressure in his mind making it feel as if he has to monitor every stray glance between them.
Skizz and Zed shake hands resolutely, both of them turning back to Tango in unison. Zed halves the distance between them, Tango’s face traitorously close to flushing dramatically. “It’s just- well I was in such a rush to get here on time that I completely forgot to eat, I wanted to make a good impression on Impulse and Skizz.” Zed’s voice wobbles in a surprisingly good imitation of his actual worried voice, his face the picture-perfect image of innocence. Tango swears softly under his breath as his cheeks start to burn, his resolve already wavering. It’s a trick, clearly, even if he hadn’t seen Zed and Skizz scheming just a few seconds before, but a much larger part of himself than he’s willing to admit is weak to Zed’s act regardless.
Tango tears his eyes away to glare at Skizz instead, who’s leaning back in his chair with an overly smug look on his face. “That’s a low blow Skizzle, real low.” Impulse laughs behind his hand, his eyes jumping between the three of them with unrestrained amusement at the situation. Tango keeps his gaze away from Zed’s face because he knows the second he looks back the last of his willpower will crumble, and then he’ll be out a croissant and some dignity.
“Have to seize my advantages where I get them dude! You certainly don’t fold to Impy or I’s attempts like this, that’s for sure, it’s like boyfriend privileges don’t mean anything to you!” Skizz throws his hands up in mock-frustration before taking another sip of his coffee. Zed leans back into his seat properly without a word, Tango’s eyes jumping back to him just in time to see him cycle through a flurry of emotions in no more than a second before plastering the same smile Tango got at the Permit Office onto his face. The familiar feeling of Impulse’s tail smacking his leg follows just after, Impulse practically glaring daggers at him before not-so-subtly jerking his head back at Zed.
Who glances down at his lap for one second before looking up again with a much brighter grin—that doesn’t reach his eyes, which glisten slightly in the light—and tilting his head. “How long have- how long have you guys been together?” His voice breaks slightly, and all at once everything clicks in Tango’s head. He’s so used to hearing Skizz talk about them—about any of them talking about them dating, really—that he didn’t register it at the moment, more focused on Skizz’s weak defense.
But Zed did. Zed definitely noticed.
Impulse waves his hand noncommittally, his smile radiatingly warm. “Long enough that it makes us sound old, let’s just say that.” He leans forward casually, his gaze drifting up towards the ceiling. “We haven’t had a fourth since right after we first got together, but Skizz had another boyfriend for a bit, I had another boyfriend for a bit, and I’m sure the more I list the older it makes us sound.” Impulse laughs at the same time Skizz does, the two of them idly holding hands on top of the table.
If Tango wasn’t quite so tense, he’d probably find it hysterical how clearly he can see Zed sorting through all the new information in his head, at the way his eyes dart back and forth slightly as if reading something and his hands are nearly writing on the table. Zed tilts his head towards Tango, still looking at Impulse. “And what about him?”
Tango opens his mouth to respond but Skizz beats him to the punch, leaning in to loudly “whisper” in Zed’s direction. “Tango’s notoriously picky about who he dates, I’m not even sure how we made the cut.” Zed laughs at that, Tango nearly letting out a sigh of relief. Somehow, against all odds, Impulse and Skizz might’ve found a way to smooth all this over without making it awkward. Or at least any more awkward than it already got, which seems like a miracle in and of itself.
“It’s just because I was young, trust me. Nowadays you’d be a low maybe.” The jab rolls off his tongue easily, Tango shooting a tight-lipped grin in Skizz’s direction alongside it. Now would be the moment to make his move. The set-up is there, all he has to do is turn to Zed and rattle off something about how he’s at the top of the list. It’s as close to the “perfect moment” as he’ll probably ever get, all he has to do is take it.
But he still hasn’t come clean about his alter ego.
Tango opens his mouth…and closes it again as the moment passes, Zed, Impulse, and Skizz trading quips back and forth as if they’d known each other for years. It’s everything Tango could’ve hoped for for this meeting, yet he’s still kicking himself for not saying something. But the same part of him that was anxious about this hang-out is still anxious about how Zed might react to the news, even if he’s relatively confident in his chances by this point. Skizz catches his eye briefly and Tango just smiles, not wanting to ruin the steady conversation the three of them have going. There’s nothing to do about it now, and it’s probably not a good idea to share information that sensitive in such a public place anyway. Really, it’s for the best that he didn’t say anything.
No matter how much he regrets letting it slip away.
He leans back in his chair as he continues to watch the three of them bicker, only joining back into the fray himself once his own honor comes back under attack– because Impulse shouldn’t be allowed to get away with calling him lazy in the mornings, even if he prefers not to get out of bed before eleven. By the time Zed has to leave for work Tango’s almost entirely forgotten the small pit sitting in his stomach as he turns back to Impulse and Skizz with flushed cheeks.
Next time. He’ll say something next time.