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“Sire, why do we like Ragh?”
Fabian startles, hands tightening on the Hangman’s handlebars and jerking them ever so slightly towards the other lane. The Hangman corrects them automatically. “I’m sorry, what? Who said I like Ragh? He’s- I’m- That’s just ridiculous, frankly.”
There's a beat as Fabian's heart hammers and the Hangman drives on before the Hangman says, “I was merely asking why he is now included in your crew.”
“Oh. Of course! Obviously that’s what you meant,” Fabian says and chuckles brightly, firmly shoving his nerves back down where they belong. He runs a hand through his hair. “Ragh's not a part of my crew, really, the Bad Kids are different. He's just…”
Fabian sighs, stuck. Ragh isn’t his friend the way the Bad Kids are, but he’s also not just a teammate the way that the other Owlbears are.
“He’s just Ragh,” Fabian settles on. “He’s just, you know, my guy.”
The Hangman hums as they drive on but doesn’t ask any more questions. Fabian relaxes his hands, settles into his riding. They have practice today, and the bus wouldn’t have gotten Ragh to school in time, so Fabian had volunteered to go get him. He has a motorcycle, after all, and he’s Ragh’s guy; it only makes sense that he’d be the one to bring him to practice, right? Nothing weird about two bros going to bloodrush together. When Fabian gets to Ragh’s, he hops off the Hangman and stands in front of the door for a moment, fist hovering up to knock.
“Are you not going to knock on the door?”
“I am, obviously, I’m just,” Fabian flounders for a second, waving his hands vaguely. “Waiting for the right moment.”
The Hangman’s engine rumbles, somehow managing to sound disbelieving. Fabian scoffs.
“Who even taught you how to do that? Nevermind, don’t answer, I know it was Fig,” Fabian huffs and knocks on the door. There’s a clattering from inside, and Fabian hears Ragh yell “Mom, I’m leaving! I’ll be back tonight, alright?” from inside before the door is opened and Rag stands there, in his letterman jacket and a pair of basketball shorts with a bag under his shoulder. His undercut is newly re-done and his jaw looks sharp as Solace’s morning sun hits his dark skin. He grins at Fabian.
“Hey, dude, you ready to go?”
Fabian blinks, half-stunned for a moment before he laughs and follows Ragh out to the street. “Of course. You’ve met the Hangman, right?”
“Uh,” Ragh rubs a hand against the back of his neck, looking at the ground. “Yeah, briefly. At the bloodrush field and at prom but, uh, I wasn’t exactly at my best.”
The Hangman growls at the reminder of the bloodrush battle until Fabian puts a placating hand on its skull. “You’re different now, Ragh, we all understand that.”
In Fabian’s head, the Hangman hisses, He’s not one of your crew, are you sure we can trust him, sire? Are you certain?
As Fabian swings his leg over the Hangman’s seat and gestures Ragh to get on behind him, he thinks back This is Ragh, he’s safe! He’s my... He's my- he's mine. He’s fine and we can trust him because he’s mine. Internally, Fabian is shocked by the sharpness of his thoughts, flustered by how well the idea of Ragh being his settled into his chest, but externally he tries to stay casual as Ragh slides onto the Hangman. The Hangman rumbles though he doesn’t speak and Fabian kicks off.
“Hold on,” He says, though he still jumps a bit when Ragh wraps his arms around Fabian.
“This cool, bro?” Ragh asks, breath ghosting over Fabian’s ear to heard over the whipping wind as they rush from Ragh’s house. His arms are solid and sturdy around Fabian’s waist, and Fabian’s heartbeat is loud in his ears. Fabian ha-hah!s, less measured and more panicked than he may have wanted it to sound.
“Obviously! This is how you ride on a motorcycle, Ragh,” Fabian says, and Ragh’s grip tightens and the Hangman banks tight and fast around a corner. Ragh laughs over Fabian’s shoulder and Fabian laughs too, grinning at nothing and everything. When they finally squeal into the Aguefort parking lot, Ragh smiles at him, bright and sincere.
“That was sick! Your motorcycle is cool as hell.”
Fabian rubs the Hangman’s handlebars and the Hangman purrs accordingly. “Hell yeah he is.”
“I’ll see you inside, dude,” Ragh says, squeezing Fabian’s shoulder. Fabian’s heart kicks up in time with that gentle, kind touch. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Any time,” Fabian says. Deep in his thoughts, the Hangman hums in interest but doesn’t voice any dissent. Ragh walks into the locker room and Fabian watches him go, waiting for the door the close before he parks the Hangman and makes his own way to practice. He has to go support his guy, after all