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Before joining the Fake AH Crew, Jeremy lived on the streets and off of whatever money he could find, taking any jobs he could get. He went by ‘Rimmy Tim’, a nickname he’d given himself when he started getting hired regularly by different clients. He never really did much to cover up his physical identity, didn’t wear a mask or change his features, but he didn’t give out who he was to just anyone. When Geoff had come to him with a job offer to be a part of the most well known crew in the area, he was wary. He’d never belonged to a crew properly before, and had been screwed over by the ones he had worked with in the past.
But when he met the others, he knew it was where he needed to be.
“‘Rimmy Tim’, eh? Sounds like you’re asking for anal jokes, dude.” Mogar had said the first time they’d met, shit-eating smirk plastered on his face. Next to him stood the crew’s infamous Golden Boy, staring at him through pink-tinted sunglasses.
Jeremy had just shrugged, smirking himself. The three talked for a bit before being interrupted by Geoff, who had previously stepped out to grab the other members of the main crew. Now he stood in front of two other men, both with their eyes on Jeremy.
“Nice to meet you, Rimmy Tim, Geoff has told us great things about your shooting and combat skills,” Pattillo, who Jeremy recognized as the crews fearless pilot and driver, smiled at him, arms crossed in front of him.
Jeremy nodded his head and greeted back before he locked eyes with the last member. The Vagabond, there was no doubting it was him. After all, there weren’t many people Jeremy knew who could wear a black skull mask, a leather jacket and jeans and make it look attractive.
“Can you throw knives?” Was all he asked Jeremy, pulling a small blade from God knows where.
Jeremy chuckled, holding his hand out, “It’s not my forte, but I’m sure I can.” He said as the man silently placed the knife in his hand. Jeremy checked to see if it was balanced enough to throw before looking to Geoff for approval.
“Go for it, I don’t give a shit.” Geoff muttered, running a hand through his hair and stepping away from the kid. Jeremy nodded before finding a target and launching it at the wall. The blade pierced through the wallpaper and stuck, wobbling from the strength of Jeremy’s throw.
“You see, Gavin, it can be thrown correctly, you just suck,” The Vagabond said after a moment, nodding approvingly at Jeremy, “You, on the other hand, are good. Welcome to the crew, Rim-job.”
He stared at him, wide-eyed, as the crew burst into laughter behind him. The Vagabond slipped out of the room before he could be pulled into the group hug Gavin initiated around Jeremy. Eventually he snapped out of his surprised haze and joined the other’s in the kitchen for drinks, but he couldn’t keep his mind off of the Vagabond and the feeling he got from the man’s praise.
And it might have just been because of his stubborn attitude, or general curiosity about what made the guy tick, but after a few missions with him, Jeremy had an intense urge to figure out who was really behind that black skull. To see if the rumors about him being a cold-blooded lonewolf were really true.
At some point between being dragged from a collapsing building by the Vagabond during a heist and watching the man lying unconscious in a hospital bed from a near fatal injury, his goal of getting close the man got more personal.
There were many nights that they were stuck up on rooftops alone, waiting for Jack to pick them up, where they had nothing better to do than play their own version of 20-questions. There was no real gain from learning anything about the Vagabond. He gained nothing from finding out that the Vagabond didn’t like to drink alcohol, or that he grew up in Georgia and did theatre in school. It didn’t help during heists or assignments, but there was something deep, deep down in Jeremy that made him want to know more.
He brought that up to Michael one night as they sat in a rundown bar outside the city limits, watching Gavin persuade guys into buying him free drinks. The lad had just laughed and took a big sip of his drink before answering.
“You’ve got a big gay crush on him, Lil’ J.”
Jeremy drank a lot that night.
It all spiraled out of his control a few weeks later when Geoff came to the two of them with a job outside the city.
“It’s not too difficult,” Geoff had said, handing them the burner phones that they’d use to call him if anything were to go wrong, “Just something that needs to be dealt with a few cities over -- information to be collected. I know that’s no problem for you, Vagabond, but I want to test Lil J’s limits, to see if I can make you two permanent partners for interrogations. I can’t do that if he’s too squeamish.”
Jeremy heard the Vagabond chuckle beside him. His posture straightened instinctively, “I’ll be fine,”
“I’ve never doubted you before, Jeremy, I’m not going to start now.” Geoff turned and gave the Vagabond a lazy, lopsided grin, “Not too much, though, alright? I don’t want to pay for drycleaning and therapy.”
“No promises, boss.” The man said, his voice full of amusement. He pocketed the phone and stood to leave, Jeremy saluting Geoff on the way out before following closely behind.
Once the doors to Geoff’s office closed and they were out of sight, the Vagabond stopped and faced Jeremy, the earlier mirth from his voice replaced by an urgent seriousness, “I know you said that you’ll be fine, but I don’t know how true that is. I’m not the best person when I need to get information out of someone. When the time comes, just tell me and you can leave, there’s no shame in that.”
Jeremy tried to stifle his laugh, he really did. The Vagabond, who was basically known in Los Santos as the devil reincarnated, was being serious and showing concern, and Jeremy shouldn’t laugh at that. But the statement was too ridiculous for Jeremy to control himself, “I guess you weren’t there when I told the lads about the time I cut this guy’s dick off and watched him bleed out in front of me because he kept calling me slurs for being at a gay bar.”
There was a lapse of silence after that. The Vagabond nodded slowly and said “Well, call me next time that happens so I can enjoy the show, too,” before hesitantly turning on his heels and walking off. Jeremy stayed there with a smirk the size of the sun on his face, watching the man’s retreating figure. He knew it was going to be a good week.
===
Infiltrating the rival crew’s base was way easier than the two had expected. Jeremy guessed it was because the crew was young and too ambitious, easily overlooking basic security measures. The Vagabond agreed, but took no shortcuts in making sure the area was secure before getting to business.
On the other hand, capturing and getting information out of their hostage was not as easy. Geoff hadn’t given them a specific target to take, but after the two had scoped the crew out before going in, they figured this guy was their best bet on capturing someone who actually knew information that they could use. However, the two regretted their decision as soon as they made it. The guy squirmed too much in the chair he was tied to, whined too loudly, and Jeremy could tell that it was grating on his partner’s every last nerve.
He watched him dump out his tools and weapons onto a table they’d dragged into the room while the guy was still unconscious. “Vaga’, can you just like, cut his tongue out or something to shut his up already?” Jeremy sighed, massaging his temples as he listened to the rival crew member plea for release.
The Vagabond turned to look at him, and Jeremy was just able to see the bewildered look in his eyes through the mask. Next to him the hostage whimpered pitifully at the suggestion.
“What? I told you this stuff doesn’t bother me,” Jeremy shrugged, waving at him to get back to work. And it didn’t bother him, he’d lived on the streets and worked in the business long enough to know what fucked up shit people were able to come up with. Sure, the things is partner did were a little over the top if the stories the crew told him were anything to go by, but after researching into the guy’s gang and seeing how they abused their power, he felt no pity for the man tied up next to the Vagabond.
A few hours later and the man cracked. Information spewed out of his mouth between ragged breaths-- Jeremy made note of dates and locations on a notepad he’d brought with him for this purpose, ignoring the captive’s final scream of pain as the Vagabond finished him off. They made quick work of cleaning the place up and disposing of the body after that, wanting nothing more than to go back to the shitty hotel they’d gotten and washing away the filth of that gang.
“I don’t know why Geoff was so worried, you took that spectacularly. I heard you laugh at one part.” The Vagabond muttered as they drove back to the hotel, glancing over at Jeremy in the passenger seat.
He laughed, “Yeah, sorry, I tried covering it up with a cough, I swear. The guy was just such a piece of shit I couldn’t not laugh at his whimpering.”
The Vagabond hummed, nodding in agreement, “What was it exactly that he was charged with? Murdering his wife, something like that?”
“That, and a lot pervish-things. Glad that’s one less scumbag on this earth,” Jeremy scoffed, stretching out his limbs to the best of his abilities while sitting in a car.
The Vagabond didn’t say anything other than a quiet “Ah, that's right,”. Jeremy didn’t push his luck. Once they were back to the small rundown hotel they’d paid for, he threw himself onto the bed next to the door, watching the Vagabond strip his jacket off and drape it over the desk chair.
“It’s freezing in here and you’re taking your jacket off?” Jeremy asked with a look of disgust, rubbing his hands together to warm them up for emphasis.
“It’s only 60 degrees and that’s because we can’t figure out how to turn the damn air conditioner off.” He huffed, and Jeremy swore he saw an eyeroll through the small eyeholes in the mask, “Plus, aren’t you from the north? You should be used to this temperature.”
“Don’t make fun of me,” Jeremy muttered, standing and grabbing the Vagabond’s blankets from his bed and laying them over his lap.
“I’m not making fun of you,” Vagabond defended himself, and tsked when Jeremy flipped him off, “You want to use my jacket since you’re so cold?”
When all Jeremy did was stare at him, the Vagabond sighed and threw it into his lap, “I’m going to go take a shower, I can feel that bastard’s blood on my skin still,” He said before walking into the bathroom and closing the door behind him.
As soon as Jeremy heard the shower turn on, he sat up and pulled the leather jacket around himself. It was a bit too big on him, and it had definitely seen better days, but he gave no shits in that moment. He slunk down in the bed, letting the zipped up jacket ride up over his chin. He took a deep breath and felt his brain fill with nothing but Vagabond, Vagabond, Vagabond.
He didn’t even notice how much time he’d laid there until he heard someone clear their throat. He opened his eyes to see a man in nothing more than a towel covering their waist and a skull mask covering their face peering down at him.
The Vagabond huffed in amusement at Jeremy’s startled attempts to make himself look awake, “Like the jacket?”
“Jesus Christ, put some clothes on besides the mask. Somehow you managed to make the mask weirder.” Jeremy groaned and covered his eyes in exasperation. He peeked between his fingers when he heard the Vagabond move away, watching as he slipped his mask off and put a clean t-shirt over his head.
“Didn’t know you were a brunette.”
The Vagabond whirled around, blue eyes piercing into Jeremy’s own. He still hadn’t put his mask back on.
“Didn’t know you watched guys while they changed.”
Jeremy burst out laughing, face bright red, “Touché.” The Vagabond held his gaze for a moment longer before his harsh expression melted into something more along the lines of anxious, his eyes darting to the mask on his bed.
“I’m not going to take a picture, or tell the others, you don’t need to put it back on if it’s more comfortable to keep it off,” Jeremy told him, looking at the black skull himself. He saw the Vagabond move out of the corner of his eye, and looked to see him grab underwear and sweats out of his bag.
He sighed, “Can you keep your eyes to yourself long enough for me to finish getting dressed?”
“Yes, sir.” Jeremy said mockingly, smirking to himself when he saw the Vagabond gulp and hastily turn away from him. He did as he was told, though, closing his eyes and resting his head on the wall.
“You can look now,” the Vagabond told him after a minute, and when Jeremy opened his eyes they went straight to his face, “Stop staring or I’ll put it back on,”
Jeremy started at that statement, pushing himself off the wall, “No, don’t. Please,” He cleared his throat and swung his legs off the bed to stand. He closed the distance between them quickly, giving the Vagabond’s face a close look over, “I just . . . you’re bleeding.”
The Vagabond moved his hand up to where it seemed Jeremy was looking at, feeling something wet, “Oh, that,” He grabbed the towel from behind Jeremy, wiping his bloody hand on it, “Sometime during the struggle on detaining that guy he was able to cut me, ‘must have opened back up. It’s no big deal.”
“An injury is an injury. What would happen if it got infected? What kind of battle buddy would I be if I didn’t keep you safe and healthy?” Jeremy huffed, pushing him on the bed before going to ramble through the first aid bag they brought with them just for this type of situation.
The Vagabond watched him with mild interest, “Did you just call yourself my ‘battle buddy’?”
“Uh, yeah. We’re battle buddies.” He said before making a quiet ‘aha!’ sound and holding up a bottle of antibiotic cream and some bandages, “You know how Gav and Michael call themselves ‘Team Nice Dynamite’? Let’s be ‘Team Battle Buddies’.”
“Rimmy Tim and Vagabond, Jeremy and Ryan, two unstoppable forces against the world.” Vagabond said dramatically as Jeremy returned to his bed with the medical supplies.
The Vagabond didn’t realize what he’d said until Jeremy dropped what was in his hands in utter shock. Both of them kept eye contact without saying anything for a minute straight before the Vagabond broke away with a loud and drawn out groan.
“Ryan, huh?” Jeremy said, still staring. Ryan knew there was no way he could backpedal his ass out of this one, and just sat back and let it happen like any rational adult would.
“Yep, Ryan. Name and the face to match it with. Guess it's your lucky day.” He reached down and grabbed what Jeremy had dropped, glancing at the label of the bottle, “It’s a small stab wound, don’t you think all this is a little unnecessary?”
Jeremy, having recovered from his initial shock, snatched the antibiotic from his hands and opened it, “No, because you might get an infection and get sick, and you can’t have a team with only one person.”
“So, the team is your only reason for healing me, Doctor Rimmy Tim?” Ryan asked innocently, which earned him a flick on the nose from Jeremy.
“Don’t go gettin’ cheeky on me, Vagabond, or I’ll leave you here to die,” and with that, Jeremy smeared the cream over the small gash.
Ryan closed his eyes as Jeremy covered the wound and applied the bandages, relaxed under Jeremy's quick, but gentle movements, “Use my real name,” He murmured as the other pulled away from his face, catching his eye.
“Sure thing, Ry-an.” He smiled, running his hand through Ryan’s hair without thinking about it. He stepped back, pushing up the sleeves of Ryan’s jacket, “I never thanked you, Ryan, for letting me borrow the jacket.”
And then it happened, the hallmark moment in Jeremy’s life. Ryan looked up at Jeremy from where he still sat on the edge of bed with a smile forming on his face. And it wasn’t just any smile; it wasn’t a cocky grin, the type of devious smirk Jeremy always imagined the Vagabond adorned under his mask during interrogations. It was genuine. Soft, even. He even had dimples.
If Jeremy had fallen for him before, he was at rock-fucking-bottom now.
“God damn, have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?” He asked, smiling now himself. Ryan whole-heartedly laughed at that.
Correction. He wasn’t at rock bottom.
He was in so deep he was in Hell at this point.
“Ryan, buddy, I think. I think I need to take some time to sleep and process all this,” Jeremy said with a tired smile.
Ryan’s smile turning mischievous, “Sweet dreams, then. Don’t think about me too much, Jeremy.”
“No promises, Ryan.” Jeremy murmured as he went to turn the lights off and climb into bed. He burrowed into the jacket. Gunpowder, metallic iron, and a faint touch of expensive cologne filled his senses.
He knew they’d have to deal with whatever that just was in the morning, but he didn’t care in the moment. All he could think about was the man in the mask who called himself Vagabond.