Work Text:
Percy hears the door creak and looks up just in time to see Felicity exit the conference room alone. He waves to her, but Monty, curled up in his lap with his face hidden against his shoulder, doesn’t move at all. He’s stroking Monty's hair, and Monty is so still it’s uncertain whether he’s awake or not. He doesn't move, doesn't notice her or acknowledge her presence at all, but Percy’s paying enough attention for both of them.
"Did it go well?"
She grimaces. "It's not over yet. My mother is being difficult--, well, it’s more that she’s set in her ways. She’s too invested in the sunk costs of being married to my father that she’s not believing Monty. I believe him, obviously."
Percy’s not surprised Felicity believed what Monty told her. Who else could have hurt him, after all? If it'd been another boy, like she might have guessed for one innocent moment, Monty wouldn't have run away from home. No schoolboy's shame could crush his spirit so badly.
Monty still isn't looking at her, and Felicity watches Percy’s hand in her brother’s hair inquisitively. "I think he’s asleep," Percy says, with an apologetic smile. "He's had a hard time."
"I know. All we can do now is just try not to let it get any worse. Mitigate the damage, you know?"
"What are you suggesting?"
"My mother isn't agreeing yet. I think she'll come around someday. I'm persuasive. Right now, though, we need to get my brother out of here. A neutral third location-- not our house or the house of anyone my father knows, but somewhere safe." She looks meaningfully at him.
He sighs. "My guardians have a house and don't know Mr. Montague, but they won't let me-- they probably wouldn't let me bring him in. He's a state, they don't have any reason to believe he's not-- a deviant or a druggie or something. They won't like him."
Felicity gives him a concerned look for a moment, but doesn't address it, instead changing the subject. "Then do you have an alternate plan? We could ask Johanna and Sim, although I don't know anything about their respective home lives. Who else do you know that we trust?"
It takes him a moment to go over all the people he knows, all the people who might care about him enough to want to help the boy he's fallen in love with. For a moment, his head is filled with lists, weighing pros and cons and assets. He furrows his brow, a plan forming. "No, I don't think that'll be necessary. I know someone who can help."
Felicity salutes, a small smile on her face. "I'll leave that to you, then, and return to debating my mother. Keep him safe, okay?"
"Of course," he promises. "I'll keep him safe. No matter what."
Scipio-- even though he's a teacher, none of them have ever called him Mr. since they were freshmen in their first week-- is bemused when Percy calls him without warning, but he picks up all the same, and tells Percy that yes, the key to the band room is still under the flowerpot at his house, and no, he has not moved since the last time Percy was there for 'private instruction' that pretty much boiled down to Scipio comforting him after his diagnosis, and that he does not want to know why Percy is suddenly asking for this information and that if he finds the key gone in the morning he will pretend that nothing has happened and use his spare to get into the building.
He really appreciates Scipio.
Percy takes Monty along to Scipio's, even though it would be much faster if he'd gone by himself, (Monty is hurt, but he isn't a fast runner at the best of times, while Percy is leggy enough that speed has never been an issue for him) simply because he doesn't want to leave him. "Are we breaking and entering?" Monty quips, watching Percy struggle to lift the flowerpot, which is half his height and a beautiful but enormously heavy work of art, brimming with petunias.
Percy grunts. "No-- help me with this, will you?"
"I'm hurt," Monty points out, humor failing to disguise the bite in his voice. "I'm surely incapable of doing any heavy lifting."
"Not the lifting. Just-- take the key from below the flowerpot, okay?" Percy's grip is slipping. If he drops the flowerpot, there'll be soil and flowers all over Scipio's front porch; he's never managed to disappoint him, but breaking his flowerpot might do the trick. Disappointing Scipio is unthinkable-- he considers it for a moment, and then consciously decides not to let his mind go there.
Monty manages to take the key, a little silver thing strung on a chain, just before he has to set it down. "There. I was helpful. You're welcome."
Thank you. I appreciate it, darling." Monty blushes, then turns away to hide it, in exactly the sort of way Percy does, and he can't deny that his heart skips a beat.
Breaking into the school after hours is an eerie experience, even though it's not yet dark. If anyone had intercepted them as Percy unlocked the back door to the band room, there's no telling how they would have avoided trouble. They're suspicious characters: Monty with his bruises and his backpack and his untidiness, Percy with his lawfully borrowed key to the school. Luckily, they go unnoticed. The band room is empty when they sneak in and shut the door behind them.
"Why are we here?" Monty's voice echoes in the stillness.
"A third location. We'll stay here until Felicity and Mrs. Montague figure out somewhere for you to sleep tonight." Percy lifts Monty's backpack off his shoulders. It's a wondrous thing, how he seems to grow a few inches when the weight is removed-- but is there anything about Monty that Percy doesn't find wondrous? The most wondrous thing about him is that he is there. It's hard to think that Percy gets to be near him, to talk to him. Even in crisis, it's wondrous.
He sets down the pack beneath a timpani and begins moving around the large standing instruments. Monty watches him, appearing slightly bemused as Percy rolls the vibraphones and xylophones to form a half-circle with the drum sets. He doesn't offer to help, and Percy doesn't ask. Sitting down in the shadow of Scipio's worn-down piano, in the very center of the semicircle, he pats the ground next to him. "Monty. Come here."
"Why are we sitting on the floor in a circle of instruments?" He sits down and leans on Percy's shoulder, even as he's questioning Percy's life decisions.
"Because it's fun. And because there's not much else to do. It's nice! We can cuddle." He wraps an arm around Monty's shoulders. "You need a break. A short vacation. A little bit of time to catch your breath before we have to go back to the real world."
"The real world is disgusting. I'd rather not face it without a good drink."
"You don't need a drink. You have me."
He nearly regrets saying it, but Monty smiles, a crooked half-smile. "I do have you. And Felicity. It's funny how willing she was to go to war for me. Then again, she'd probably go to war over a Triscuit."
"She went to war for you because she loves you. Is it really so hard to imagine that someone might love you?"
There's a perfect silence, a long, lingering moment of emptiness before Monty speaks. "Yes. Yes, it is."
Percy pulls him in close. "Well, I'll love you until you believe it."
--
Felicity texts them (or rather, texts Percy, but Monty is the one who digs the phone out from within Percy's jacket, which is lying across their laps) several hours later. They haven't done much, only hugged each other, broken into Scipio's office and stolen a bag of gummy worms, and had strange but lovely conversations.
It's odd, the gaps in their knowledge-- Percy knows Monty's darkest secrets, the things he's never told anyone else, but he didn't know that Monty likes to drive fast on the highway with the windows rolled down and the wind in his hair. He didn't know that Monty's first crush was on Theodosia Fitzroy (who is now a cheerleader and terrifyingly pretty), his bisexual awakening involved Jacques Harrison, or that he's never liked Richard Peele but now hates him. Monty didn't know that Percy loves to play pop music on his violin purely to see other people's reactions, or that his favorite flavor of ice cream in the world is chocolate peanut butter cup from the shop down the street from the elementary school. They spend a long time catching up. They're happy to talk about unimportant things, idle pleasures, just to disappear into small moments of happiness for a while.
And then Felicity texts, and their fragile peace begins to dissipate in the seconds it takes for Monty to check it. "What'd she say?" Percy asks, a tremor in his voice. It must be Felicity-- of course it's Felicity. He already knows that. No one else would be texting him.
"I can't read her mind. Unlock this for me?" He tosses the phone to Percy, who nearly fumbles it.
"Don't throw my phone around. You'll break it, and I don't want to have to badger my guardians into buying me a new one."
"Sorry, darling," Monty says with a sheepish grin. "What'd it say? Is it Felicity?"
"It's Felicity. She says--" Percy squints at the screen. "She says that she's figured out where you're going to sleep. Do you know a Sinjon Westfall?"
"I do. He's the boy-- he's the other boy in the pictures. Dear god, is he all right?"
"He's fine, don't worry." Percy tamps down the jealousy stirring in his chest. "Peele sent the pictures to his parents too. Luckily enough, he's out to them, so all he had to explain is the fact that he hosted a party in their house, and they're apparently rather forgiving. Felicity says the plan is that you'll sleep over at his house for a day or two, then rotate to Johanna's-- they're filthy rich, apparently, and her parents won't care if you're there. You might be moving around a bit for a while, but we'll make sure you don't have to go home if you don't want to."
"I don't want to go home," Monty says, ever so quietly. "Not while my father is there."
"Hey. Feli can get your stuff. You don't have to talk to him or see him. We'll keep you safe." He plants a kiss on Monty's forehead. "I'll keep you safe."
He still looks uncertain, so Percy decides to try a different approach. "Come here. I want to show you something."
His face brightens as he gets to his feet, shoving a last handful of gummy worms into his mouth as he does so. "Oh, an adventure? Lead the way, my darling."
"Of course. You don't know where we're going, after all. I assume that even if I told you, you wouldn't be able to get there on your own."
"Who knows? Perhaps you should blindfold me, to keep it a perfect secret."
Percy takes his hand. "I don't think that'll be necessary. It's not a secret. More of a distraction."
The band room has a door in the back that leads through twisting, narrow hallways, made narrower by the pieces of old sets and racks of costumes lining the walls. Percy isn't a theater kid by any means, but he's been in the pit orchestra for several of the more recent musicals, as well as being in the concert every year since he started school here, so of course he knows his way around. Monty doesn't seem to have ever come this way at all; he looks around, frequently marveled by the lifelike props, and nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees a skeleton sitting up against the wall before realizing it's plastic. They don't let go of each other's hands the entire time.
The sound of their footsteps echoes throughout the entire auditorium, but there is no one else there to hear it. If two boys trespass in a theater after school hours and no one is around to hear them on the dark and silent stage, were they really there? Does it matter if they were? Will they keep themselves from getting in trouble? Percy ponders this as he darts through pockets of deep shadows cast by the many hanging curtains, Monty close at his side, and decides that for the sake of his sanity, the answer to all three questions must be yes.
Monty stares down the sheer drop-off of the edge of the stage into the orchestra pit. Percy has led him right up to its edge and is already sitting down on the ledge, preparing to jump.
"We can't get off the stage like this," Monty protests. "We'll have to go around."
"No, we won't. It's a short drop."
"Are you crazy?"
"No, I'm perfectly sane. It'll be fine, darling. I'll hold your hand." Monty still looks so nervous at this prospect that he feels compelled to add "Or we could find another way around, if you like. "
Monty's jaw sets. "No, I think I'll jump. After all, if the brilliant and wonderful Percy New ton does it, I'm sure it's safe."
"That's the spirit. Trust me, darling."
Monty hesitantly sits down next to Percy on the stage, his legs dangling over the edge like a child's feet in a high chair. "So we just-- jump?"
"Pretty much. I'll hold your hand. You won't break a leg."
"In a theater, wouldn't that be good luck?"
"It's not meant to be taken quite so literally, sweetheart."
He gives Percy a long-suffering sigh, taking his hand as he does so. "The things we do for love."
Percy wisely does not comment. He's not convinced he could get anything out of his mouth without stammering, so he squeezes Monty's hand and waits.
"On the count of three?" Monty asks, still transparently nervous. Percy nods his assent.
"One. Two. Three!" Monty hesitates at the final number, despite having been the one to count off, but Percy is hurtling himself off the stage immediately, using his feet pressed against the stage wall to propel himself forwards, and due to their linked hands Monty has no choice but to follow.
They land on their feet, perfectly, with a surprising amount of grace, until Monty falls over a moment after they’ve hit the floor and drags Percy down with him until they’re left in a laughing heap of tangled limbs. Monty is smiling, and despite the bruises on his face, his smile has never been more beautiful.
They hold hands and run up and down the stairs, along the rows where folding chairs are set up during assemblies, jumping off steps and pulling each other down. Monty winces when he falls, except when he's laughing too hard to feel any pain, which is most of the time. Percy's hair is coming out of its ponytail, and he doesn't have any extra scrunchies to beat it back with, but he doesn't much care if he loses it. It's insignificant in the grand scheme of things. There's nothing stopping him from buying new ones.
At the top of the auditorium, they collapse in a panting, breathless jumble after having run up and down the stairs several times. The sun is going down over the parking lot; Percy watches through the enormous picture windows as straggling rays of direct sunlight fade away. Monty, pushing himself up to a sitting position beside him, leans on his shoulder. "We should probably get going, huh?"
Percy turns his attention away from the fading light outside to a much brighter star. Monty's got a wistful smile on his face. Percy isn't a perfect judge of character by any means, but he can tell that he doesn't want to leave yet, even knowing that there's somewhere safer to go-- and with how reluctant Percy is to break this shining moment, can he really blame him? "Mm. I didn't realize it was so late."
"You know we've been here a while. You were here."
He laughs, enveloping Monty in a one-armed hug. "Yes, but you're very distracting, darling. How am I supposed to focus on anything else?'
He blushes, but his voice is steady regardless. "However did you focus in English class, when you sat near me?"
"I didn't," Percy admits.
They're close to each other, like they've been since he took Monty away from the library, but he's suddenly very conscious of exactly how close they are. Even more so when Monty turns so they're facing each other head-on, looking into each other's eyes.
Monty bites his lip, uncertainty set into the lines of his face. Percy isn't any less nervous. He's imagined something like this with Monty, in English class or late at night when he can't get himself to sleep, but seeing himself reflected in Monty's pupils is another can of worms entirely. He tries to speak as clearly as possible, but finds that Monty has somehow managed to steal his tongue without him having even opened his mouth. "May I-- uh--"
He smiles a little. "Go on. I'll wait. What are you trying to say, darling?"
"May I kiss you?"
There's a moment of utter stillness before Monty whispers "Yes." Percy wonders, briefly, if anyone has ever asked before kissing him before, but decides he can ask about that later. They deserve a moment of peace. They deserve this, a stumbling, awkward first kiss in the light of the setting sun in an empty auditorium. Monty deserves gentle hands in his hair and soft words whispered in his ear and a tight hug just afterwards. Monty deserves to be happy, for once. Percy is trying to believe he deserves it, too.
And for once, they are lucky enough to get what they deserve.
--
Sinjon Westfall is a nice enough boy, and if he's disappointed when Percy shows up holding Monty's hand, both of them shivering in the cool dusk air, he doesn't show it. He remembers both their names and introduces them to his parents as 'my friends'. Percy is getting more jealous by the minute-- not only because Monty is or was interested in Sinjon, but because of this life of his. Sinjon's room is covered with posters, but a pride flag hangs in the corner, and his parents dig out a spare mattress so Monty can sleep on the floor, with a space cleared for his backpack. Percy can only imagine what it's like to have parents like that. The Westfalls have no shortage of genuine love for their only son.
But at least Percy has Monty. Monty's made that clear to him, holding his hand the whole time that Sinjon was getting him settled in, kissing him on the cheek as he left and telling him "I'll see you later, darling". Regardless of whether he deserves it, Monty is his now, for as long as it lasts. When Percy closes the door behind him as he exits, he hears them both laughing.
His aunt calls him to ask when he's going to be home for dinner. "If you're late, I won't be happy. Some of your uncle's friends from work are coming over."
"I won't be late," he says, the slightest tinge of bitterness in his voice.
She must hear it, because she lets out a long sigh. "Percy, is something wrong?"
"No," he says slowly. "I'll be home soon. Just you wait. Everything is going to be just fine."