Chapter Text
"For fuck's sake, Wic," Nate snaps, and Billy feels a dual sense of annoyance; at the needless profanity in such dangerous proximity to his mom, and at the casually shortened 'Wic' that's been insidiously creeping in over voice chat recently. Nate might be happy enough losing his online moniker - not that ‘Iron Lad’ was particularly inspired - but Billy chose Wiccan, and he likes it just the way it is, thank you very much.
Oh, and also -
“That wasn’t entirely my fault!” Billy points an ineffective finger at his screen. “It freaks me out when your health does that whole disappearing thing. Warn a guy!”
Nate’s drawn-out sign crackles over the speakers.
“Wic-”
“Wiccan.” Billy hisses, for all the good it does (he doesn’t quite have the courage to activate his microphone) and braces himself for the tirade that is sure to follow. As usual. Nate’s reliable like that, which is why he: a.) drives everyone completely insane, and b.) makes an outstanding raid leader. God knows Billy appreciates it more often than not, but after the tenth text today politely requesting that Billy please remember to only use his cooldowns in phase two, he is less than appreciative.
He doesn’t even know how Nate got his number. Should that worry him?
His bedroom door handle creaks and Billy starts fumbling desperately for his headphones.
“Mom, I swear, I’m just-”
Tommy’s face, complete with grin, pokes around the door. “What’s up, Wic?” His twin - Billy’s mirror image if it weren’t for the white hair and carefully cultivated air of chaos - considers closed doors to be mere suggestions.
Billy groans. “Don’t, just - don’t.”
Tommy snorts, casually draping himself across Billy's bed. The wall between their bedrooms - erected haphazardly by a sweating, swearing Jeff Kaplan - is comically thin, hence his brother being privy to his online failings. The once temporary solution to their sharing a room has become permanent, and the paper thin plasterboard has never been replaced. Honestly, for all its faults, Billy finds it weirdly comforting. Tommy and he avoid at all costs any 'creepy twin stuff', but apparently their morse code-esque tapped conversations don't count.
The downside is that Tommy basically considers Billy's room an extension of his own, outside of quaint conventions like 'knocking' or 'privacy'.
“What’s this asshole’s problem this time?” Tommy says, rearranging Billy's pillows to his satisfaction.
“He’s not an asshole,” Billy says dutifully, “he was just a bit over vigorous with life tap, and I popped all my cooldowns.”
“Warlocks,” Tommy says sagely, as if he does anything other than hang around in stealth mode by the respawn area in battlegrounds. (That’s pretty much his brother all over - there’s nothing technically wrong with it, but it’s enough of a dick move he really shouldn’t do it. But he does. Go figure.)
They sit quietly, listening to Nate’s increasingly ridiculous rant in contemplative silence.
“He always outdoes himself,” Billy says thoughtfully, “I think they get longer each time.”
“He’s such a tool.” Tommy stretches out languidly on Billy’s bed. “Why do you bother?”
Well, that’s complicated. Or - not that complicated at all. Billy elects to ignore the question. It’s probably rhetorical anyway.
“You should join.”
“What, and have that asshole rip me a new one every time I don’t do everything exactly right?” Tommy raises his eyebrows. “Er, yeah, I don’t think so.”
“Ok, so Nate’s a bit intense,” Billy says, “But everyone else is great, and we could seriously use you-” Is he about to do this? Is he actually about to say this? Billy is an awful, awful person. “-and I think you and Hawkeye would really get along."
If Kate knew he was doing this, she would rip his intestines out and wear them as a scarf. Maybe display his head on the walls as a warning to others.
“Uhuh?” Tommy says, and his expression is unreadable. “What is it you’re calling yourself, anyway, what was that lame name-”
“The Young Avengers,” Billy sniffs, because he likes it, and it sounds awesome, and screw Tommy and his awful taste and his uninvited opinions.
His brother laughs. "And what do they think of that?"
Billy clears his throat. "Er, well-"
“They don’t know?" Tommy sits up with undisguised glee. “So that’s why you ditched your Asgardian alt.”
“Not entirely.” Billy wrote an extremely long blog post on his newfound class allegiance, and he would be more than willing to recite it verbatim, if Tommy gave him half a chance. He suspects that might make him quite tedious. (He doesn’t care.)
Tommy is staring dreamily at the ceiling, looking beyond delighted at the smallest opportunity to raise hell.
"Count me in, this is going to be good."
*
[Guild] [Wiccan] : I may have found us an extra DPS
[Guild] [Iron Lad] : yeah?
[Guild] [Stature] : oooooh do tell?
[Guild] [Wiccan] : my brother said he’d give it a go
[Guild] [Iron Lad] : we’re raiding tomorrow, bring him along
*
It’s Thursday. Billy fucking hates Thursdays.
He also hates that everyone knows he hates Thursdays, and he hates his mom hovering behind him nervously while he eats his cereal, and he hates Tommy watching him shrewdly on the bus, and he hates the way everyone clears a three meter radius around him in the changing room, but most of all - he hates the feel of the air vents on his locker as they scrape down his cheek. If he’s going to facetious about it - and let’s face it, it’s his primary coping mechanism - he has much better things to be doing with his time.
It’s not a big deal. It can’t be, because otherwise, his life would be biggest pile of shit in the entire world, and he really, really doesn’t want that.
Billy’s gotten pretty good at staying out of trouble over the past year, which makes it sound as if he went looking for it in the first place, which he definitely didn’t. Besides, ‘trouble’ sounds kind of fun and roguish and not at all like having your head held in the toilet, which - apparently - isn’t a myth. It’s an actual thing that actual kids do to each other. (To Billy. Whatever.)
He flew mostly under the radar before high school, which was exactly where he always wanted to be. He doesn't know what happened, or how he could have stopped it, but it just… started. He must have missed the memo about how to be a proper teenager. It’s actually not as bad as it used to be, although his face tells a different story. It is definitely less frequent, and he’s better at disappearing. It’s a big school, there are plenty of ways to blend in. Gym class, however, is another story.
It’s not that he’s terrible at sport, it’s just become self-fulfilling at this point. He could do track and field with Tommy were it not for his incredibly noble (and incredibly stupid) efforts to avoid dragging his brother into his sinkhole of uncoolness. There must have been a first time - the first time he messed up, the first time the ball smacked him in the face and everyone started laughing. So then, he started dreading the ball smacking him in the face again, he got nervous and messed up, and so the ball ended up smacking him in the face. It just escalated from there, to the point where he’s sweating like crazy before he’s even walked into the changing room. It’s stopped becoming about the ball smacking him in the face, but he tries not to think about that. I mean, missing the ball is pretty stupid. There’s some kind of fucked up justification there. It’s not like the complete immutability of being born a certain way. He doesn’t even want to try and catch it, these days, because what if he managed? They’d probably still slam him up against the wall, and that is too depressing to even contemplate.
He washes his face in the sink and tries not to think about what a stupid loser he is. His face looks even paler than usual, his dark hair stuck to his forehead. He dries his hair with some paper towels and inspects the damage. Could be worse. Definitely, could be worse.
He stares moodily at his reflection and pulls his hood up. Much better, much less obvious. Plus, it matches the current headgear on his druid. He almost smiles at that, because that was the thought of a stupid loser, but the kind of stupid loser he is more than happy to be.
*
If being beaten to a pulp has an upside, it’s that it makes you hungry. Of course, so do a lot of other things that don’t involve pain and humiliation, but Billy’s trying to look on the bright side. He scans the room for the familiar shock of white hair complete with tray full of fries, and sure enough, Tommy is in his usual seat, fries already gone. Billy crosses the room with relief, only to tense up again on seeing Lisa sat opposite his twin, shooting daggers at Billy.
Lisa was sort of Tommy's girlfriend at one point, but now... Billy has no idea. He doesn't really like her. She’s not a bad person as such, she’s just - chaotic neutral, basically, which is the last thing Tommy needs. If there was a Lisa-equivalent in Billy’s life - well, that’s the thing - there wouldn’t be. Not because Billy has learned to stay away from toxic people, but because Tommy wouldn’t dream of letting Billy delude himself like that. It kind of breaks his heart that his brother’s standards for himself are so much lower.
"Hi Lisa," Billy says, sitting down tentatively in the seat next to Tommy. She ignores him completely. She's been ignoring him ever since her sixteenth birthday party, when Billy offended her friend through - he feels - no fault of his own. Parties are, strictly speaking, outside his comfort zone, and when Tommy and Lisa mysteriously disappeared he was left in the horrific position of actually having to talk to people. For once, his reputation didn't precede him and one of Lisa's friends - rather foolishly, he feels - misinterpreted his nervous babbling about Norse mythology as an inept form of flirting. He's not exactly a master of seduction, but he's pretty sure that's not how it usually goes.
Long story short, she ended up sulking all evening and Billy and Tommy were unceremoniously thrown out by her parents - Billy for making a girl cry and Tommy for trying to climb out Lisa's bedroom window with no pants on.
Tommy seems to have been forgiven for his transgression, but Billy clearly hasn't.
He rolls his eyes at Tommy, which is apparently entirely the wrong thing to do, because it draws attention to his face. Tommy leans over and yanks his hood back, narrowing his eyes.
Billy swats him away. “Leave it!”
“You’re bleeding, you idiot.”
“Not much,” Billy says, and he almost wants to laugh at that pathetic little sentence. He stares determinedly at his food and tries to look like there’s nothing more he’d like to do than eat it. It had been true, just a second ago.
“Why are you bleeding?” Lisa says, without much interest. At least he knows what it takes to get her to talk to him again - nothing less than the sacrificial spilling of blood. He shouldn’t be so surprised.
“Your mom’s going to freak out,” Tommy says, and he sounds angry, which is fucking ridiculous. If anyone should be angry, it should be Billy, and he’s fine. Gym is over for another week, he’s raiding tonight, and it looks like he’s going to avoid having a black eye. Peachy.
“I know!” Billy snaps, and turns to glare at his brother. “I don’t do it to annoy her!”
Tommy makes an irritated sound in his throat. “You should go to the nurse.”
“I’m not going to the nurse.”
“You’re bleeding. Go to the fucking nurse.”
“It’s just a flesh wound,” Billy says, and shoots him a sideways glance. Tommy wrestles unsuccessfully with stifling his grin, and his instinct to join in.
“‘Tis but a scratch.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“Urgh,” Lisa says, and stands up abruptly, seemingly unimpressed. To Billy’s delight, Tommy completely ignores her, and she stalks off.
“Raid tonight,” Billy says, still grinning.
Tommy’s eyes flick back to his cheek, but he takes the bait. Billy could hug him.
They spent the rest of lunch arguing over whether gathering professions are the most efficient way to make money.
*
Billy hates Thursdays, so his mom makes cookies. He really does appreciate the effort - she’s not really a cookies-kind-of-mom - which is why a.) they’re not great, and b.) he feels doubly awful. The guilt hits him with the buttery smell as he walks through the door and he seriously debates legging it up the stairs and locking himself in his room all night.
But that really isn’t an option.
“Brilliant.” He mutters. “She made cookies.”
“God, yeah, what a pain in the ass.” Tommy scoffs, “Having a mom who cares about you and bakes you stuff. Awful.”
Billy could not feel like more of an asshole if he tried.
He pulls the door shut behind them. “You obviously haven’t tasted them.”
“Yeah, and I’m not going to.” Tommy drops his bag and throws his coat inaccurately at the rack. It slides down the wall, and lands in a crumpled heap. “Because that, little bro, is the sugary smell of you having a mother-son heart to heart.”
“Tommy.” Billy lunges for him, but his twin is already halfway up the stairs.
“Just tell her, you idiot.”
“Tell her what?” Billy hisses. “Tommy, you can’t-”
“Billy?” His mom pokes her head around the kitchen door. “Hi, Tommy. How was school?”
Tommy leans over the bannister. “Peachy, Mrs. K,” He says, the slightest of slight smirks directed towards Billy. “I’ve got this crazy long history assignment to do tonight, though. I'd better get started."
"Very responsible." Rebecca says dryly, raising an eyebrow. "I'm impressed."
Or more likely, not fooled in the slightest.
"Cookie?" She says, and Billy notes that she doesn't ask him how his day was. Has she already registered the bruise, or had his careful head positioning in the half light of the hallway worked?
He follows her into the kitchen and opens the fridge immediately, a cool barrier between his face and her shrewd gaze.
"The boys not home yet?" He asks, pouring himself a drink with feigned concentration. These days, Alex and Michael are always 'the boys', whereas Billy and Tommy are 'the twins'. He used to be part of ‘the boys’. He doesn’t really know how that makes him feel.
"They're at practice tonight."
"Right, yeah." Billy can't really extend his stay in the fridge much longer, so grasping his glass of milk hard enough to turn his nails white, he turns around.
The reaction is immediate.
"Oh, Billy." Rebecca gestures for him to sit down, and immediately reaches for the medicine cupboard.
"Huh?" He says, unconvincingly, "Oh, that. Basketball to the face. It's fine." He tries his hand at an airy laugh.
Rebecca doesn't call bullshit, or point out that basketballs aren't sharp, or say anything at all. She just wordlessly dabs at his face with an antiseptic wipe.
Tommy’s got it all wrong, because there is absolutely nothing that needs to be said. She knows, and he knows she knows, and she knows he know she knows.
So he gives her a lively blow-by-blow replay of his chemistry practical, because they’ve got to keep up the charade, and she smiles tightly and laughs in all the right places. He forces a cookie down, and tells her they’re amazing. She squeezes his shoulder and tells him that she’s always here if he wants to talk, and he lets her pull him in for a hug. If there was a textbook for Perfect Motherhood, she’d be following it to the letter, and he’s still letting her down.
He dashes upstairs, bellowing a cursory “hi” at his dad, and shuts his door carefully, because he doesn’t want to risk overhearing a single word of the conversation they’re about to have about him.
*
[Guild] [Wiccan] : hey guys
[Guild] [Wiccan] : I come bearing gifts!
Speed has come online.
[Guild] [Wiccan] : well, gift singular
[Guild] [Wiccan] : ladies and gentlemen - my brother
[Guild] [Stature] : hi :)
[Guild] [Hulkling] : hello!
[Guild] [Hawkeye] : hi
[Guild] [Patriot] : hi
[Guild] [Speed] : twin, actually
[Guild] [Stature] : omg wic you have a twin??
[Guild] [Wiccan] : unfortunately
[Guild] [Wiccan] : I like to think I’m still special and unique
[Guild] [Stature] : that’s so cool!!
[Guild] [Hulkling] : you’re still a very special snowflake, Wiccan
[Guild] [Hulkling] : /pats head
[Guild] [Stature] : are you identical?
[Guild] [Speed] : nah
[Guild] [Speed] : I'm better looking
[Guild] [Wiccan] : he's also the modest one, as you may have noticed
[Guild] [Speed] : don't forget witty
[Guild] [Hawkeye] : class?
[Guild] [Speed] : rogue
[Guild] [Hawkeye] : of course
[Guild] [Stature] : yay that's ace!!
[Guild] [Wiccan] : so who's on for tonight?
[Guild] [Hawkeye] : everyone I think
[Guild] [Patriot] : cant
[Guild] [Patriot] : family dinner thing
[Guild] [Hawkeye] : boooooooo
[Guild] [Patriot] : if you want to take that up with my terrifying grandma, feel free
[Guild] [Hulkling] : so who’s our other tank then?
[Guild] [Patriot] : chavez said she'd off spec it
[Guild] [Hawkeye] : oh crap
[Guild] [Hulkling] : ohh
[Guild] [Wiccan] : shotgun not healing her
[Guild] [Stature] : me neither!!!
[Guild] [Wiccan] : too late
[Guild] [Wiccan] : I have invoked the ancient law of shotgun
[Guild] [Stature] : :(
[Guild] [Wiccan] : you're stuck with me, Hulkling
[Guild] [Hulkling] : great!
[Guild] [Hulking] : druids 5eva
[Guild] [Speed] : whos chavez?
[Guild] [Hawkeye] : dps monk usually
[Guild] [Hawkeye] : she's great
[Guild] [Wiccan] : she can't tank for shit though
[Guild] [Patriot] : well shes getting better
[Guild] [Hawkeye] : hmmm
[Guild] [Stature] : she's just a bit unpredictable
[Guild] [Stature] : thats all
[Guild] [Wiccan] : she's insane
[Guild] [Wiccan] : please don't tell her I said that
[Guild] [Wiccan] : I'm too young to die
[Guild] [Stature] : lol
[Guild] [Hawkeye] : where's our illustrious gm?
[Guild] [Stature] : nate just texted to say hes nearly done with tea :)
[Guild] [Stature] : so start at 8?
[Guild] [Speed] : sounds good
[Guild] [Patriot] : ill be off then
[Guild] [Hawkeye] : you suck!!
[Guild] [Stature] : seeya patriot
[Guild] [Patriot] : laters
Patriot has gone offline.
[Guild] [Wiccan] : ok, last minute snack and\or pee time!
[Guild] [Stature] : i'll round up loki and vision
[Guild] [Hulking] : ...I know way too much about your peeing habits
[Guild] [Wiccan] : ahhh the beauty of internet friendships
[Guild] [Hulkling] : your bladder has been the bane of many a raid
[Guild] [Speed] : sounds about right
[Guild] [Wiccan] : you're just jealous I'm so well hydrated
[Guild] [Wiccan] : brb
*
"Alright," Billy says, "I'm getting popcorn, want anything?"
Tommy has set up camp with his laptop on Billy's floor. "Coke? Chips?"
"Done and done."
Billy dashes down to the kitchen, sticks the popcorn in the microwave and starts piling his arms full with wholesome saturated fats.
"Billy."
He jumps at his mom's voice, nearly dropping everything.
"Um, hi mom! Tommy and I were just, er, stocking up on raid sustenance." He flashes her a winning smile, face carefully angled as to hide his left cheek behind the cola bottle.
"You don't need the whole packet, surely." Rebecca frowns. "Wouldn't you like some apples, or maybe-"
"Mom." Billy says, exasperated. "We can't heroically defend Azeroth from the Scourge if we’re eating fruit. Be reasonable."
That earns him a smile, and a resigned shrug. “Ok, well - just don’t stay up too late.”
“Do I ever?” The microwave beeps, and Billy is forced to turn his face fully towards her as he grabs the popcorn. He can’t bear her expression. It’s not that she’s angry, or pitying, or despairing - but that she’s not, and she ought to be, because she has two fully biological sons that will never cause her half the trouble or disappointment that Billy does. She should be... something.
It’s that lack of something that makes him burst out: “Tommy just joined my guild, and it’s his first raid with us.”
A small spark of interest, just as he’d expected. “Mmhm?”
“We’re a local guild,” Billy hears himself say, “Nate recruited people from around here who are our age, he thought it’d be cool to have stuff in common.”
“Oh,” Rebecca says, as if she can’t quite decide whether she’s alarmed he’s meeting people online, or pleased he’s making friends. The fear instilled in his parent’s generation of internet predators - that he and Tommy are constantly rolling their eyes at - is well-meant, so he grins reassuringly.
“Anyway, the forces of evil call...”
“Well, of course.” Rebecca ruffles his hair - which he accepts dutifully - and half-smiles. “Don’t let me keep you.”
Once back upstairs, he throws the cola in Tommy’s vague direction, props up the popcorn in an easily accessible place, and settles down in front of his keyboard. Tommy is already on voice chat, having apparently bonded with his guildmates more in an hour than Billy managed in a month. He’d be jealous if it was anyone else.
“Sorry, parental interlude,” Billy says, adjusting his microphone. “She took issue with our snacking habits.”
“Which are?” Kate asks, and he can hear the crunch of something she’s biting into, which sounds suspiciously like an apple. Freak.
“Perfect raiding food!” Billy says, indignantly. “Lots of salt, sugar, saturated fats-”
“Ok, guys,” Nate says, and it is his I-mean-business voice. Tommy raises his eyebrows and smirks. “Did you all read the tactics?”
Tommy rolls his eyes, because of course he didn’t read the tactics. He never reads the tactics. He is ideologically averse to reading the tactics. Everyone else gives a vague chorus of assent, and Billy resigns himself to hissing instructions at Tommy under his breath for the next few hours.
(Billy did read the tactics. And a few blog posts. And watched some youtube videos. And had several prolonged discussions on various forums.)
“Buffs, potions, yada yada,” Nate says, “then let’s get started.”
*
All in all, it’s not a total disaster. America manages to make things incredibly difficult, which annoys Nate, but sends Billy and Hulkling into hysterics. Which, of course, annoys Nate even more. They don’t clear it before 10pm rolls around, at which point they decide to call it a night.
“Ok,” Nate says, with the air of someone keeping their cool through intense self-control, “that wasn’t too bad, well done everyone.”
“Well, we are a social guild,” Cassie says, sounding slightly harassed. “We’re not like, super serious, or anything.”
They’re sort-of-maybe dating, Billy mouths at Tommy, who pulls a face. We think.
He’s an asshole.
He’s not -
“Sure,” Tommy says out loud, “because sitting in front of your computer alone for hours is sociable.”
“Which is exactly why I’ve been saying we should meet up!” Cassie says brightly. “Wouldn’t that be awesome?”
“Yeah, totally.”
“Sounds fun!”
“Why not?
Tommy glances at him, but Billy stays resolutely silent.
“How about you, Wiccan? Speed?”
“Sure,” Tommy says slowly, “Why not?”
Billy makes an uncertain sound, and Tommy shoots him a quizzical look.
“Billy’s allergic to sunlight,” Tommy jokes, “we’ll need to meet at night.”
“AHAH!” Kate shouts, and Billy jumps as his headphones crackle with the volume.
“So his name is Billy?” Hulking says with interest, and Billy, to his utter disgust, turns violently pink. Luckily, there is only Tommy to witness his shame. Or unluckily, whichever.
He covers his microphone. “Tommy, no. Please.”
“You didn’t tell them your name? Interesting.”
“He’s been very mysterious,” Cassie says, “We weren’t going to ask or anything, but…”
“I like him.” Kate declares. “I say we keep the spare; he clearly has his uses.”
Tommy beams blissfully for a moment, before his brain suddenly snaps into gear. “Hang on, the spare-”
“I suppose you know his name?” Billy says, a little resigned.
“I didn’t know we were a state secret,” Tommy says, and he looks almost apologetic. “Sorry, bro.”
“We’re not, I guess,” Billy rubs his eyes and sighs. He’s going to have to come up with something convincing. “I dunno, I just liked the idea of being known as Wiccan, you know?” It’s total nonsense, but Hulkling hums understandingly anyway, because he’s a nice person. Tommy, somewhat inexplicably, rolls his eyes.
“We should meet though, don’t you think?” Cassie is saying, and Tommy shoots Billy an utterly terrifying grin.
Nate hums in vague agreement, but Tommy is pushing his microphone button and saying: “How’s next weekend? We could get milkshakes.”
“Milkshakes,” Billy splutters, as Tommy bats his eyelashes at him. “What the fuck-”
“Retro.” Kate says, “I like it."
“We should go to that place where they’ll blend anything,” Hulkling says excitedly, “like, you can bring anything at all and they’ll put it in.”
“You sound way too excited about that.”
“Like, even beef jerky?”
“God, don’t be disgusting-”
“I’m bringing popcorn!”
“Let’s get Patriot broccoli, that would be amazing-”
“No way, I don’t want to get sucker punched-”
Billy slides down in his chair and groans. “Tommy. Look what you’ve done.”
“I’m your social life co-ordinator, stop whining.” He reaches over to grab a handful of Billy’s popcorn. “You should be thanking me.”
“If by ‘thanking’ you mean ‘punching’, then sure.”
“So,” Kate is saying. “Twelve, milkshakes. Be there.”
“Sure,” Tommy says breezily, “sounds good. We’ll be there.”
Billy makes an unsure noise, wrinkles his nose. “Will we?”
“Yes,you will!”
“Well, only if you want to,” says Hulkling, and Billy feels a small rush of gratitude. “It’d be cool, though. If you came.”
“Um-”
“Like I said,” Tommy interrupts smoothly, “We’ll be there.”
Billy logs out of voice chat as Tommy snaps his laptop shut, rubbing a weary hand over his face. “What do you care if I have a social life?”
Tommy smirks. “Shut up, it’ll be fun.”
Billy lets his head fall into his desk with a very final thud. Oh, boy.
*
[Hulkling] whispers: sorry man, I feel bad for making such a big deal about the name thing
To [Hulkling]: honestly don’t worry about it
[Hulking] whispers: we didn’t mean to put you on the spot or make you uncomfortable
[Hulkling] whispers: that’s the last thing we want
To [Hulking]: haha seriously it’s fine
[Hulkling] whispers: having said that...
To [Hulkling]: yeeeeah?
[Hulkling] whispers: I am now crazy curious about the rest of the stuff you never told us
To [Hulkling]: haha well I promise you it is intensely dull
[Hulkling] whispers: I know a deflection when I see one, BILLY
To [Hulkling]: you got me
To [Hulkling]: the thing is
To [Hulkling]: what if turned out that we like
To [Hulkling]: went to the same school or something
[Hulkling] whispers: I’m not seeing how that would be a bad thing
To [Hulkling]: oh god no I didn’t mean that
To [Hulkling]: sorry!
To [Hulkling]: I just mean
To [Hulkling]: the world does not like me
To [Hulkling]: I just KNOW one of you guys is going to end up being at my school because that is my life
To [Hulkling]: and not that you aren’t all awesome it’s just that
To [Hulkling]: I’m like the lamest person ever
To [Hulkling]: urgh I can’t explain
[Hulkling] whispers: worried we’ll discover what a dork you are?
To [Hulkling]: no
To [Hulkling]: well
To [Hulkling]: basically yeah
[Hulkling] whispers: because we already know you’re a huge loser
To [Hulkling]: ...thanks
[Hulkling] whispers: so we won’t be surprised when, IRL, you turn out to be a huge loser
[Hulkling] whispers: just like the rest of us, I might add
To [Hulkling]: I never said you’d be surprised
To [Hulkling]: just obligated to pretend you liked me
[Hulkling] whispers: don’t be stupid
[Hulkling] whispers: we wouldn’t pretend ;)
[Hulkling] whispers: but seriously that is a really stupid thing to worry about
To [Hulkling]: probably
[Hulkling] whispers: so you’ll come to the meet up then
To [Hulkling]: I will?
[Hulkling] whispers: great! that’s sorted then
To [Hulkling]: I feel manipulated
[Hulkling] whispers: :)
[Hulkling] whispers: also, good healing, druid buddy!
To [Hulkling]: likewise, sir tankalot
[Hulkling] whispers: anyway, I gotta sleep
To [Hulkling]: sleep, yes, sleep is good
To [Hulkling]: catch you later
[Hulkling] whispers: night BILLY
To [Hulkling]: is my name doomed to capitalization now
[Hulkling] whispers: until the novelty wears off
[Hulkling] whispers: BILLY
[Hulkling] whispers: GOODNIGHT BILLY
To [Hulkling]: night
To [Hulkling]: creeper
[Hulkling] whispers: just wait til I get your surname
Hulkling has gone offline.
Billy grins at his screen.
It's a complex emotion. Billy's ok, really; he knows that. He can hold an intelligent and reasonably interesting conversation, he tries to be kind, and he's loyal to a fault.
Billy is, despite the shitty school situation, more or less at peace with himself. It's everything else he can't make sense of, and he can't bear the idea of bringing people into his stupid little mess of a life. Not people he likes, people who have met him without preconceptions.
He doesn't think they'll dislike him for his 'situation,' he's not afraid they'd take one look at his messed up eye and run in the other direction.
He doesn’t want their pity, that’s the thing.
*
They’re late. They’re late late late because Tommy was in the bathroom for an unholy amount of time, and then he insisted on eating like five slices of toast and a fucking grilled cheese sandwich even though they are going to eat once they get there and Billy is going to kill him, he is going to actually tear him limb from limb with his bare hands, and he is going to enjoy it.
He wanted to be early, and now they are late. They can’t sit and wait for everyone to arrive with some sort of inherent authority over the situation because they were there first, they have to arrive after everyone else and be simultaneously appraised and judged by everyone. Billy is going to actually, genuinely expire, and it is five thousand percent his brother’s fault.
Then - of course - the bus is late, and Billy spends the whole journey surreptitiously checking his reflection in the lock screen of his phone, just in case his cheek has suddenly stopped healing, in case the universe truly is conspiring against him and his body’s healing process is somehow reversed.
And then, the milkshake bar has enormous windows and he sees people laughing and talking through the giant straw logo on the glass, and he stops abruptly and decides maybe he’ll just go home after all. Yep, he’s just going to turn around, get on the bus, go home to hide under his covers and pretend he’s a different person. He can make up an excuse later, maybe say he was sick, or that he -
“Oh for chrissake,” Tommy says, and he grabs his arm and bodily hauls Billy through the doorway. “You are such an infant.”
Do he hate his brother? He thinks he might hate his brother. His brother is a stupid asshole.
“That’s got to be them!” A voice says, excitedly, and before Billy can really register that this is actually happening, he’s being steered into a booth and a milkshake is being thrust at him.
“Billy, right?” A dark-haired girl says, shuffling along to let him in, “And Tommy?”
Billy nods, dumbfounded, and Tommy grins, sliding in on the opposite side next to a blonde girl.
“We got you strawberry,” someone says, “because you can’t go wrong with strawberry, right?”
“Strawberry’s great,” Billy manages, and he takes a huge sip in hope of precluding the necessity of him needing to talk for the next few seconds. Thankfully, Tommy takes over.
“So, Kate?” He says, pointing at the girl next to Billy. She takes a mock bow. “Which makes you... Stature?”
“Call me Cassie,” the blonde girl corrects him with a smile. “And this is Nate,” - she points at an intense looking boy next to her- “ that’s his brother, Jonas,” - she nods towards a less intense and seemingly shyer boy next to him - “and they’re our two tanks next to Kate, Eli and Teddy.”
Eli gives a polite “hey” - Billy is perversely pleased to see he looks slightly awkward, too - and Teddy leans over the table to give Billy an enthusiastic grin. Billy turns his head towards him, curiosity trumping nerves. Fellow huge loser Billy’s intellect hood -er, hat. Teddy is a picture of effortless cool, blonde and nonchalant in a green shirt and a row or piercings down his ear. Wow, ok. And to think they’re friends. Billy needs to up his game. He focuses super hard on not dribbling milkshake everywhere. At least he wiped the toothpaste off his face from this morning, so that’s one less piece of evidence towards his status as human disaster.
“You came!”
“I was coerced.” Billy says, and Teddy laughs. “Despite my reservations.”
Tommy opens his mouth with gleeful intent, and Billy kicks him in the shins, hard. He is reasonably certain his refusal on the street is about to be made common knowledge, and that is definitely not how he wants this to go. Tommy mouths obscenities at him and take a sullen swig of his milkshake.
“No America or Loki,” Kate says, “but I feel like it’s probably for the best, in case they tear each other’s throats out, or something.”
“Probably best to avoid that,” Eli agrees, and Kate sniggers.
“I dunno, I think it could be fun.”
“As Guild Leader, I’m going to have to veto murder,” Nate says, dry as sand. Billy grins uncertainly, and Nate meets his gaze with a slight nod. He’s sitting just a little bit too angled towards Cassie, and if this wasn’t real life and everything, he would totally be whispering Hawkeye: ‘I knew it!!!!’ They’ll have to compare notes later. He meets her eyes and she looks delighted. They are definitely comparing notes.
There’s a slightly uncomfortable silence as everyone simultaneously takes a sip of their drink.
“So,” Cassie says, tucking her hair behind her ears and beaming around the table. “Did anyone read Scarlet’s blog post about the patch?”
Cassie is magic, she really is. Billy wants to hug her.
“Oh my god, don’t get me started-”
“I had an argument with this stupid troll in the comments-”
“Stop feeding them, Teddy, they’re just idiots.”
“I had to defend my class!”
As Teddy leans across the table for a high five, Billy feels himself starting to grin without the undercurrent of nervousness, and realises he’s actually having fun.
Achieved unlocked, or something. It’s pretty cool.
*
As several of them slide out the booth for a second round of calcite goodness, Billy finds himself next to Teddy. Who is, by the way, probably the most likeable person Billy has ever met. It’s incredibly disorienting, because he looks like he should be drinking beer and playing Call of Duty, not explaining to Billy with an incredible earnestness just how much loves Vanessa Vancleef. His Pavlovian reaction to cool-looking people is very telling, and probably a really awful habit. Wow, he is a terrible person.
“So,” Teddy says, “I have a confession.”
“Huh?” Billy whips his head round. “That sounds ominous.”
“It’s a bit creepy,” Teddy says, and gives him a sheepish smile. “But I had to know.”
“Go on.” Billy folds his straw nervously. “Put me out my misery.”
“Ok, so, I remembered that you said your brother liked running, and then when I found out he was called Tommy, I asked if there was anyone on the running team with a twin called Billy at my school.”
Billy holds his breath.
“There isn’t, apparently, but there is a Tommy who does track and field with this ‘super weird hair’.”
At this, they both glance across the table to Tommy, who is has his arm draped way too casually over the back of the seat, inches from Kate’s shoulders. If they were still opposite each other, Billy would kick him.
“It’s pretty distinctive, right?” Teddy says. “What are the chances?”
Is this happening? Is this actually happening? He could just deny everything, invent a new surname and then grab Tommy and run out of the restaurant, and that is still a slightly appealing idea. On the other hand, he likes Teddy, and he’s feeling kind of brave, and maybe… maybe it could be nice. Maybe this isn’t the world taking a giant dump on his head, for once.
“Lots of people don’t realise we’re twins.” Billy says, focusing intently on making a mobius strip with his straw. “The hair, and stuff. Different surnames.”
“Right,” Teddy says, and his voice is so eager and warm Billy looks up from his straw despite himself. “So, do you think…?”
His last chance to back out. Teddy smiles like he means it and Billy doesn’t want it to stop. “Do you have Pym for Chem too?”
“No way.” Teddy sounds so delighted, it’s pretty much worth it. They grin at each other in disbelief.
“That’s crazy.” It’s more than crazy. His favourite guildie, at school! They could eat lunch together, walk home together - or, you know, he could watch Billy hide underneath the stairwell, get the crap kicked out of him during gym. Oh, god. This was all a terrible, terrible idea. He should have denied everything.
Deep breaths. This isn’t the time for an emotional meltdown.
“How come I’ve never seen you?” Billy pokes Teddy in the shoulder. “I don’t recognise you at all.”
“I’m pretty new.” Teddy shrugs a little awkwardly. “It’s - I moved and didn’t switch schools, and it was getting kind of time consuming travelling all that way, so -” He pulls a face. “It’s a long story.”
Billy has never been more burningly curious in his life, but he nods and says: “Sure, cool.”
“How come you have different surnames?” Teddy says, almost apologetically. “Sorry to ask.”
“Oh, it’s fine.” Billy waves a hand dismissively. “It’s - it’s actually kind of a long story, too.”
“Oh, ok.”
“I’m not just saying that,” Billy laughs, “I know it’s the ultimate cop out, but it’s the truth.”
“I believe you,” Teddy says brightly, “I’m just insufferably nosy.”
“I’ll tell you sometime.” Billy says, and he doesn’t quite know why or what he’s promising. “The epic saga of, uh, our super boring lives.”
“Deal!” Teddy holds out a hand. “There’s this great coffee place round the corner, we should go after school sometime!”
“Wow, how sophisticated.” Billy takes his hand and gives it a tentatively shake. Handshakes have always eluded him. As an effective hermit, all actual human contact is a mystery to him. “I’m clearly not on your level of socialising.”
“Tertiary profession,” Teddy grins, and then winces. “Oh, god- “
“Aha! The nerd surfaces! I knew he was in there somewhere.”
“That was terrible, I apologise.”
Billy is still giggling when Cassie nudges him and slides in beside him. He turns politely back to the main conversation, his elbows bumping awkwardly against Teddy’s.
He probably shouldn’t be registering this level of human contact. It’s pretty pathetic, and he should definitely get out more.
*
As they disperse at the bus stop, Teddy gives Billy and Tommy an enthusiastic: “see you at school!”, with an added “don’t forget coffee!” at Billy, and disappears round the corner.
Billy feels slightly light-headed.
“That was cool, wasn’t it?” He feels very benevolent towards the world. “Everyone was so nice, and awesome, and-”
“Coffee?” Tommy prods him in the side.
“Huh?”
“You’re getting coffee?”
“Oh, yeah, after school sometime. Because he goes to the same-”
“Yeah, yeah, I heard. So, coffee?”
“Coffee.” Billy repeats, confused. “Yes?”
“Like… a date?”
Billy yelps. “No! Not like a date! It couldn’t possibly - no way! Definitely not a date.”
“Ooo-k.” Tommy flags the bus down, grabbing Billy by the collar and tugging him towards the door.
“That would be weird, it can’t be a date. I mean - it can’t be. That’s so ridiculous, it -”
“Billy.”
“- wouldn’t even make sense - what?”
“Get on the bus.”
“Oh, right. Bus, bus is good.”
“Jesus christ.”
*
[Guild] [America] : so how were your milkshakes?
[Guild] [Stature] : awesome!!
[Guild] [Hawkeye] : you shouldve come
[Guild] [America] : had stuff to do
[Guild] [Hawkeye] : so mysterious
[Guild] [Stature] : you must come next time!!
[Guild] [Patriot] : they really do make milkshakes any flavour
[Guild] [Hulking] : so awesome, right??
[Guild] [Patriot] : not convinced
[Guild] [Hulking] : boooooo
[Guild] [Wiccan] : I don’t feel I fully took advantage of their extensive menu
[Guild] [Wiccan] : my drinking choices were so mundane
[Guild] [Hulkling] : ahah!
[Guild] [Hulking] : an excuse for another guild outing
[Guild] [Iron Lad] : it was nice to meet everyone
[Guild] [Iron Lad] : put a face to a name
[Guild] [Wiccan] : likewise
[Guild] [Vision] : :)
[Guild] [Stature] : totally!
[Guild] [Stature] : we should def do it again sometime
*
Billy’s tentative optimism as to the Teddy-at-his-school situation soon turns to abject horror. He lies awake on the Sunday night chewing his cuticles, and finally decides on a plan of action.
Teddy must not, under any circumstance, see him at school. Billy must pull out all his disappearing stops and make sure he is never anywhere long enough for Teddy to recognise him.
It’s a big school; it’s not unfeasible, and they’ve managed it thus far. It’s mostly lunchtime that bothers him - he can skulk down the corridors easily enough between class, and he already knows Teddy doesn’t have any lessons with him. It’s the cafeteria that poses the biggest challenge.
So, he skips lunch. Hides in the library reading Snorri Sturluson and snacking on smuggled lunchables between the stacks. The librarian, Ms Foster, pretends not to notice. She even grabs him and brushes crumbs off his collar as he leaves on the second day, and mutters something that sounds an awful lot like: “Please just not over the Faulkes translation; it’s new.”
His new technique means that he inevitably ends up avoiding Tommy, too, however unintended.
He’s returning from his lunchtime hideout on the Wednesday when he finds Tommy leaning against his locker.
“What’s the deal with you missing lunch this week?” He demands.
“I’m studying,” Billy mutters, “I’m really behind.”
“But lunch.” Tommy says insistently. Lunch is somewhat sacred to his brother, who can barely go an hour without some food craving or another. “You missed macaroni cheese.”
“I had some dubious cheese, actually.” Billy waves his empty lunchable packet. “It’s, uh, nutritious.”
He nudges Tommy to the left so he can get in his locker, suddenly remembering his usual need for speed on Wednesday afternoons. Kessler has math in this corridor after lunch, and if Billy doesn’t get his books quickly -
Oh, fuck.
“What are you doing here, Shepherd?” Kessler demands, pointing a finger at Tommy in confused venom.
“Talking to my twin brother.” Tommy says coolly, leaning against the lockers in a sterling impression of nonchalance. After Tommy showed up at the beginning of last year, it’s fairly common knowledge that they’re related, though the complexity of their relationship seems to elude most. Billy, for one, is tired of explaining, but Tommy likes to drop the ‘t’ word wherever he can. It’s oddly reassuring, which just about sums up Tommy’s entire presence in Billy’s life.
“Your twin?” Kessler says, and barks a short laugh. “Wow.”
Billy tugs at Tommy’s sleeve, come on, we need to go, like, right now -
“Yes?” Tommy raises an eyebrow. He’s wearing what Billy recognises as his deadliest expression.
“So it is, like, genetic?”
“Is what genetic?” Tommy’s eyes narrow. Oh, god. Please don’t let this be going there -
“You know...” Kessler grins, and make an obscene gesture.
“Tommy, let’s just-” Billy begins, but his brother waves him off frostily.
“Excuse me?”
“Is it like some messed up Game of Thrones incest thing, or what?”
Kessler looks pretty pleased with himself. To be fair, it was kind of witty, compared to his usual repertoire. Billy rolls his eyes and tugs at Tommy again, but his twin has an absolutely terrifying expression.
“Ha ha,” Billy says bleakly, “dazzling wit, as always. Tommy, let’s go-”
“Right,” Tommy says, and curls his hands into fists. “Right-”
“Tommy, no-”
His brother hurls himself at Kessler, and it would be satisfying, it would be amazing - if only Billy could just let Tommy beat him to a bloody pulp, but he can’t, he really can’t. He hesitates for a brief moment, savouring the brief sound of Tommy’s fist making contact with Kessler’s nose (god, what a sound) and then flings himself after them both with a hopeless desperation.
What even is his life? The main source of all his misery is getting mercilessly pummeled and he is trying to prise his brother off, pawing ineffectively at his sweater and trying to haul him away. If Tommy gets caught doing this, he is in huge trouble. He’s not exactly got a clean record. Billy has to stop him, even if there is nothing he wants more than to see Kessler’s face swell up like a balloon. Which is an awful thing to want, and Billy’s mom would definitely tell him he should be ashamed, but - no, fuck him.
So he grabs Tommy by the waistband of his jeans, and hauls with all his might, bringing them both flying back into the lockers. Kessler lies on the ground and moans pathetically, which is definitely overkill, because he’s barely even bleeding. (Billy knows about these things, you see.) Tommy wrenches himself out of Billy’s grasp and lunges at him again, which is - of course - when Dr. Pym decides to venture out from his lab and witness the entire debacle.
*
They sit wordlessly in the hard plastic seats outside the principal’s office. Kessler isn’t there, he’s lying groaning in the nurse's room, whining pitifully about all the bones Tommy didn’t have time to break. Tommy has a nosebleed, but he’s the bad kid, so he doesn’t get to go to the nurse. He just bleeds sullenly into his sleeve.
Billy searches through his pockets, produces a tissue and offers it. It’s not exactly fresh.
“Did you blow your nose on that?” Tommy eyes it with distaste.
“Something like that.”
“Don’t tell me you used it to-”
“Tommy. I think I spat some gum out in it, or something.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
Tommy sighs, and takes the tissue with a put-upon expression. “Better be.”
“Sorry,” Billy blurts out. He’s not talking about the gum.
“What the hell for?” Tommy says, his voice muffled through the tissue. “Not your fault he’s a dick.”
“I tried -”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy mutters, scuffing his shoes on the floor. “Appreciated. It doesn’t matter, though.”
Billy bites his lip. “What did he say?”
“He called Rebecca, she’s on her way.”
“Oh, crap.”
“Yeah.”
A short silence.
“We’ll tell her about Kessler, it wasn’t your fault.” Billy picks at the threads of his sleeve.
“Sure.” Tommy snorts. “Because it works like that.”
“But - he - he said -” Billy splutters. “He called us Lannisters!”
Tommy looks at him incredulously, and they burst into laughter. It’s not even that funny, it’s just a relief from the incredible tension of the entire situation. They latch onto it with enthusiasm and end up clutching their sides helplessly.
Unluckily, they are still laughing when Rebecca arrives, which puts a damper on any sympathy she may have had with them, somewhat.
*
They drive home in the silence of disgrace. Billy tried to explain the situation, but failed miserably for three reasons: firstly, that he hasn’t really felt like talking to his parents about his sexuality and isn’t about to start now, secondly, he didn’t really feel like getting into the entire, tedious Kessler backstory, and thirdly, his mom has never watched Game of Thrones. (She always walks in during the wrong scenes, and as a result, calls it “that awful show.”)
It could be worse, and at least Kessler will be gone for a few days. Billy, painted by Dr Pym as a heroic intervener, is not in trouble with the school, although his mom is furious. Mostly for the helpless laughter they couldn’t seem to shake off. Tommy is suspended, which is better than they could have hoped for, all things considered. His next ‘episode’ was supposed to mean expulsion, but a combination of Rebecca’s measured objections and Billy’s desperate babbling seemed to save the day.
Tommy said nothing. He’s still saying nothing, and it’s only because Billy knows him better than anyone that he can make a wild stab at why. Their bizarre childhood has given them brotherly familiarity, but also the fresh perspective of an outsider. You need both to even attempt unravelling the mysteries of Thomas Shepherd.
Rebecca won’t actually say anything to him, even though she’s visibly furious, gripping the steering wheel far too firmly. She’s always been averse to telling Tommy off. She thinks she’s making it better, but really, she’s just making it worse. Billy has the feeling Tommy would love to be ripped a new one, for once. They’ve never really reached a space comfortable enough for her to feel able to criticise him.
He can’t just let him sit there, staring determinedly out the window, so he leans over and taps him on the shoulder. Tommy gives him a questioning look.
“A Lannister,” Billy mouths silently, “always pays his debts.”
He doesn’t know whether he’s thanking Tommy or threatening Kessler, but it makes his brother smile.