Chapter Text
It wasn’t the worst day Carissa had ever had. No, the worst days were locked away behind mental bars and the key carefully kept in a drawer at her therapists office. But today certainly wasn’t a good one.
Honestly, this whole week could use a break, but there’s no way she could afford the 30 hour nap she desperately desired, or the day off work to clean her apartment that had accumulated all sorts of grime in the last month of depressive lows, or an extra day to finish this essay spread across the table in front of her, or -
“Look ready to set that thing on fire. Bold move with class starting in five minutes.”
Carissa snapped her head up to see flaming red hair over designer sunglasses. It was the Campus Cryptid. She knew he was in this class but hadn’t expected to see him leaning a hip against the table she’d been working on. What was his name again? Oh no, she didn’t want to be rude but she’d entirely forgotten.
“Uh, sorry, just long week is all,” she answered instead. A standard response that every college student could emphasize with.
“What’s got’cha down?”
“Oh where to begin?” She groaned into her hands and rubbed at her face. Most people would take this to mean: I don’t have time but thank you for your concern please drop the subject and return to your scheduled programming.
“Start with last week.”
“Huh?” Her face was a mix of surprise, annoyance, and exhaustion.
“Go on then,” he slid down to lounge across the opposite bench, elbows on the table and one hand propping up his chin. He looked rather serious, like her life was important to him.
“Oh, um, well it’s been a shit week, truly, but we have class and should go find our seats before we’re late...” she gathered her notes and essay into one messy pile, shoving them into her bag along with the knowledge of looming failure.
Meanwhile he was pulling out his mobile, dialing a memorized number... and happened to be close enough she could overhear the voice on the other end.
“Hey Crowley what’s up?” It was their Professor.
“Gonna miss class today, Leslie.”
A laughing rumble echoed through the speaker. “Even though I can see you outside my classroom window sitting in the courtyard with Miss De la Vega?”
Crowley’s mouth stretched into a wicked grin. He gave a finger wiggle in the direction of said window. “We’re both taking a mental health day. Gonna go get coffee.”
At this point Carissa had sat straight, shaking her head and scowling at The Cryptid. She turned toward the same window to wave an X at their professor to indicate this man was telling lies and she’d be to class in one minute, but Crowley grabbed her hand and started to drag her off in the direction of the campus cafe.
“This poor child needs an extension on her paper too. I’ll trade you one of those pies you like in exchange.”
Leslie laughed harder, “I’ll take it. I want both on my desk next week. Treat her nicely now, she’s had a rough time of it lately.”
“That’s why I’m kidnapping her. Ciao!” He hung up and turned back to his prisoner, who was stumbling along trying to match his long stride.
“Can you slow down and let go of me please?!”
He halved his pace, and dropped her hand, “Come on, then, we got permission to skip out and you’ve got another week to flesh out that essay. Let’s get a drink and put some order back in your life.”
Carissa stopped and folded her arms with a frown. “Why are you doing this?”
He paused and turned toward her, “What, not grateful?”
“Look,” she said, suddenly nervous, “Yes, I’m grateful for the extension. Thank you. That’s a chunk of stress off my back. But I also can’t stand taking gifts without knowing the underlying expectations of the giver, so... why are you doing this? What do you expect in return?”
Crowley gave her a long look; it was hard to guess what kind behind those glasses.
“I owe someone a favor,” he finally replied in a low voice.
“And what’s that got to do with me?”
A deep sigh as he ran a hand through his hair (somehow miraculously not messing up the styling) and then, “He’s doing me a solid by taking a trip to Edinburgh in my place. Job had to do with horses again. I hate horses. And why are the Scotland jobs always with the horses? I’ll never know they don’t tell me these things, but in return I owe him a favor and just before he left he said I had to help three people - and it had to be in person too, no long distance help - so I saw you there, near about to rip that paper to shreds and thought, gee, there’s the first person to tick off my list. Happy?”
Carissa shifted from one foot to the other, and uncrossed her arms to clutch the strap of her bag. “So... I’m just a project? No ulterior motive or unspoken expectations looming in my future?”
“Nope,” he popped the P and held up both hands in surrender. “Just a good old fashioned favor, already paid for by somebody else. It’s your lucky day.”
Oh, she could sure use some luck. Carissa had heard so many rumors about this man people called the Campus Cryptid. The mildest saying he liked stupid pranks and skipped class more than was allowed, but still somehow passed all his classes. The scariest saying he could ruin a person’s entire career with one phone call. Lots of people thought he was in the mob. But there were plenty of good rumors too, about how he would help people in the library with their history homework, and walk women across campus at night to help them feel safe, and buy lunch for students when their food cards ran out.
Maybe he was an agent of chaos, but that didn’t always equal bad, now did it? An amoral creature could do just as much positive as negative. And here he was, offering to put her life in order. If he really was as powerful as people claimed she’d be a fool to deny this.
And besides all that... he was the only person to do something nice for her in a long while.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’ll let you put my life in order. I’ll trust you on this.”
A grin started to spread over his sharp teeth.
“Or, rather,” she looked him right in the sunglasses and gave her own tired smile, “I’ll trust the debt you owe your friend.”
A bark of laughter bounced off the courtyard walls. “A safer bet, that! Now then,” he held out his hand, and this time she willingly held it. He gave a wicked grin and swung it in an exaggerated arch as they started toward the café, “Start with last week.”