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Brendon’s used to sitting alone at lunch. Sometimes it’s the cafeteria, the edge of a table if he can. No matter where he sits there’s a backpack on the side of his plate, a canvas and plastic barrier to keep him from spying on others. He understands it, especially when it’s at a more formal table. It’s less lonely on the edge of the table, only cut off from one group instead of two. Usually though, he goes to the library. Technically you’re not supposed to eat or drink inside, but as long as you sweep up crumbs and stay quiet, Mr. Steineckert doesn’t seem to notice. Heck, he doesn’t seem to notice people at all, at least until they seek him out for something specific.
Today’s the first day in years he’s going to the caf with the intent of sitting with people. Maybe. If this isn’t some joke, meant to get someone with an inflicting-humiliation slant off. He pauses at the line of propped open doors, then forges on. The room doesn’t look any different from the way it did a week ago, and he guesses it shouldn’t. Just because this could be the biggest thing in his life doesn’t mean it affects anyone or anything else.
Jon’s group takes up almost an entire table, the space on the edge only big enough for one or two people that won’t notice or don’t care that they’re crashing a obvious clique. Even last week that wouldn’t have been him; he tries his best to not intrude on people. If nothing else Jon’s right about one thing, they’re an informal group. Of the dozen plus gathered only one is using a kneeling pad, and all the rest are on chairs. Statistically it’s unlikely that all of them are doms, and as he gets closer he sees Nate and Sisky, both of whom he knows for a fact are owned subs. An asteroid would fall to the earth before Jared Leto let his sub sit beside him.
“Hi. I’m Brendon?” He doesn’t know why it comes out as a question, it’s not like he’s not.
“Trust me, we know.” That comes from a shaggy blond sitting next to Jon.
“Fuck off Conrad,” Spencer answers before Brendon has the chance to say anything.
A boy with shoulder length black hair grins at him almost manically for a second, before toning it down to less disturbing levels. “If you wanna know about the A.N.A.A I’ve got a mock up for the flier somewhere here.”
He smiles again, and pulls his backpack from his feet onto his lap. As much as Brendon can see of it, it’s covered in non-active slogans like stay out of my bedroom and my dungeon is a home office and n-a is a-okay. Brendon doesn’t think he’s non-active though, not the way the teen beside him has his fingers lightly hooked into the collar of his shirt. When he finally finds a folded piece of green printer paper Brendon takes it. A.N.A.A apparently stands for Active Non-Active Alliance.
“I’m not non-active,” he replies automatically.
The guy doesn’t take that well. He frowns and his arms start to gesture as he says “It’s nothing to be ashamed of!”
“Oh for Christ’s sake.” Brendon doesn’t know that speaker either, but he can tell he’s a sub. He’s wearing a low v-neck shirt -low enough that Brendon’s surprised the principal didn’t tag him for dress code violations- and it shows off a handful of healing scars.
The advocate guy turns his full glare on the scarred sub. “What, are you saying it is?”
“No, I’m saying I’d rather let Chiz buy me a teddy bear and fuck me on a bed covered in rose petals than listen to this again. I don’t see why you even care, you’re active.”
“Right, because minorities are so good at pleading their case that everyone just falls head over heels in their hurry to be good to them. Majorities have to change, Butcher, not the minority.”
“I agree and stuff-” and even if he didn’t Brendon wouldn’t say that to this guy- “but I’m really not an n-a.”
“That’s good,” Spencer says.
“That’s good,” Ryan mocks. The girl beside him smacks him on the back of the head.
“Jon just said-” In a matter of seconds his confidence fades away. “Uh. Never mind. Have a nice lunch.”
Jon smacks his Pepsi down and burps. “Jon said Spencer wants to jump your bones. Brendon seemed agreeable.”
Brendon just looks at Jon’s straw, slowly spinning around the circumference of the opening. He doesn’t want to see anyone getting mad at him for Jon’s possible mistake. Still, he needs to clarify it. “But not if you’re with him, Ryan. I know the relationship is sacred and stuff.”
“Nope,” the girl who hit him replies, “this bitch is all mine.”
A guy with marker scrawled up his arms gestures to Spencer. Maybe not as dramatically as Advocate Guy, but enough. “Go on, go strike up a deal.”
Spencer glares. “It’s not that easy, Pete.”
Pete makes the table rattle as he bends over and bashes his head on the plastic covered particle board. He’s got a rhythm to it; Brendon can hear the timing like he hears in any normal music. When he stops Sisky leans over, chainlink collar rattling, and presses a cool can of soda against Pete’s reddened forehead. Pete allows it for about thirty seconds before he pushes it away.
“Here’s now this works, Spencer Smith.” A tall guy is speaking and Brendon’s almost positive that his name is Gabe. Brendon doesn’t have any classes with him, in fact he thinks Gabe is a senior, but for a week last March Nate wore dog tags of a guy and a girl before he switched to a spike collar. He never got up close and personal with Nate- you don’t do that to someone else’s sub, not even as a sub yourself- but the tags were pretty big, and Brendon thinks he recognizes the face. “You go negotiate with Brendon and pay Jimmy for use of his basement. You do this so you can finally shut the fuck up about him. Dom or put the whip down, dude.”
Spencer’s glaring daggers, and Brendon really didn’t mean for him to fight with his friends. Gabe ignores the look entirely and continues. “If hooking up will make you shut up we’re all for it. Now, if only hooking up with a n-a would make GWay shut up. No offense, Mike.”
The guy with his fingers in Gerard’s collar only says “No worries,” but it somehow sounds much louder than Gerard’s “That goes against their whole thing, Gabe!”
Pete pitches in again, helpfully adding “You know, if you’re scared to say something because you’re secretly a sub, Spence, I don’t think Brendon will have a problem with it. I bet he could take you down hard.”
Brendon’s not sure who’s more horrified by the suggestion, himself or Spencer. But at least he’s just sort of grossed out and uncomfortable. Spencer looks like he’s about to go on a shooting rampage. Which is Brendon’s cue to leave, because regardless of Jon’s opinions all that Brendon can see happening in the near future is Spencer fighting with his friends, and he doesn’t want to be the cause.
“So, uh, okay, see you later.” Brendon turns around and skitters away, trying to not hear Gabe’s for fucksakes, and Pete’s come on, man. It’s none of his business, and if he’s not there then the confrontation isn’t his fault.
And then there’s a hand on his back. “Look, that group of assholes are right. I like you. I’m not sure what you’re into, and I’m not an exhibitionist so I don’t want to have a negotiation talk right now. But we could have one later. If you’re interested.”
“Of course! My brain is like, exploding at the possibility of saying no.” Who the heck would?
“That’s good to know.” Spencer smiles and already Brendon feels it, the urge to be the reason Spencer is smiling, to do whatever it takes to make Spencer smile. He can only hope his slant isn’t very exotic.