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For the nth time in the last hour, Heathcliff asked, “Can you please reiterate why, exactly I should give up my perfectly good salary that puts me in the top tenth percentile and instead turn to a life of crime?”
He looked more and more exasperated by the second, that much John could discern from his spot. He patted himself on the back for picking a place with an easy way to look at Heathcliff working at his desk.
Seriously, John didn’t think he could get tired of looking at Heathcliff, ever.
John beamed and raised his teacup in a pseudo-cheer, “Because you love me, of course!” He said from that damned bright red couch that Heathcliff, for some reason, refused to replace no matter how much John begged and pleaded.
‘Love. With no strings attached. How novel.’ John smiled, knowing that it wouldn’t be an act.
They may have felt heavy and uncomfortable in his mouth, but if that was the price to pay for seeing the bright red flush traveling up Heathcliff’s neck, then it was a price well worth it.
“Augh,” Heathcliff groaned suddenly, startling John. He was covering his face with both his hands and seemed insistent to hide himself from the world.
“Can you please not confess your love to me while still in disguise? I appreciate it, and I love you too, but if anyone opens the door, I’ll get fired and hunted down as a pedophile.” He pleaded, peeking at John from between his fingers, “It disgusts me to hear those words from Liam’s voice, too.”
Well, that was a problem. A rather serious one, too, because while John prioritized Heathcliff above a lot, John had to stay alive and healthy to be able to even be in the right mind to care for Heathcliff.
And, let’s just say, there weren’t any other mages using the spell John used to change his appearance for a reason.
Namely, because of the drawbacks from using such magic. A mage can’t just alter the vessel in which their mana is stored just like that, you know?
Most importantly, although John had made great lengths to hide this, it was painful. If Heathcliff found out about such a fact, John suspected Heathcliffs would go to great lengths to prevent John from using that spell again, which was not something he could sit by and just let happen.
That magic made him useful, and any damage to his value was detrimental.
‘Ah, that line of thinking is rather unhealthy, right? I remember Heathcliff saying that. Well, he’s a hypocrite, so it’s not like I have to listen to his advice, anyway.’
“Fine,” he conceded, rubbing his vocal cords, “is this better?” He asked in his normal voice, “Hm, you should probably set up a noise cancelling barrier, though.” He mused.
“I already did,” and before John could ask when, Heathcliff said, “when you barged into my office demanding that I set up a terrorist attack.”
‘Oh, so that’s why he specified opening the door, and not just overbearing, I see. And I did do that, didn’t I? Well, I’m only human, after all.’
“It’s not exactly a terrorist attack, per say,” John sheepishly looked away, “merely…”
“A plan specifically designed to divert attention away from your comrades in order to give them leeway by using violence and flashy magic in a public area with people gathered?” Heathcliff raised his eyebrow.
“Yes, exactly!” John snapped his fingers and turned to face Heathcliff again, “How-“
Heathcliff sighed. “That falls under the category of a terrorist attack, John.”
‘Damned definitions and their insistence to foil my plans. Not to say that all definitions are bad, though. They’re very quite useful for creating loopholes in order to have people owe eternal servitude to me…
‘Whatever, I’ll still count it as a win for Heathcliff.’
John fell silent for a few moments scrambling for a way to change the subject.“Right! You never did answer me. So will you or won’t you?”
As expected of Heathcliff, he immediately caught on to John’s piss poor attempt at changing the subject and instead took it into his own hands to steer the subject.
Heathcliff rubbed his temples, as if he couldn’t believe he was having this conversation before saying, “Are you just planning this because you have a vendetta against the Ceoren sponsorship ball?”
“Ahem,” John cleared his throat, looking away sheepishly, “I don’t know why you would come to that conclusion at all…” he scratched his cheek.
“…Why do I-“ Heathcliff muttered, and said more loudly this time, “Ten minutes.”
John tilted his head, confused.
“If you can make up a convincing argument within ten minutes, I’ll do it.”
Oh, it was so on.
————
-Which was how they ended up in this situation.
Oh right, yes. Let’s rewind a bit to give you some context.
A master spy disguised as a terrorist, a terrorist disguised as a teacher, and a teacher disguised as the master spy set up a covert meeting to talk terrorism, which sounded like the beginning to an awful joke.
If only.
Unfortunately, reality was often more absolutely insane than fiction portrayed it as, and threw curveballs at the poor souls existing with no mercy, unlike the authors of works of fiction.
That’s all the backlog you need. Use context clues, or something.
“And that concludes my presentation about why you should agree to this completely legitimate fool-proof plan, complete with graphics!” John scanned the room, seeing Esmerelda and Heathcliff about to nod off.
Because he was the nicest person in the history of ever, John took pity on them and condensed his hours-long presentation into a few short sentences.
“If you weren’t paying attention;” he raised his voice and paused, waiting for them to focus, and continued, “Esmerelda, me and John Doe will set up a proper, more powerful medium for that fire spirit of yours, plant it in the Ceoren ball location thing, and then we,” John said, gesturing to between himself and Heathcliff, “will drag that guy you hate to the ball area and then you can kill him!”
“Krollo Fabius.” Esmerelda corrected through gritted teeth.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” John waved offhandedly, forgetting he was, in fact, not First Order John Doe currently, and instead a subordinate of the same first order he was currently disrespecting.
Heathcliff looked at him in shock, desperately trying to convey a message with his eyes alone to preserve the facade of First Order John Doe.
If John was reading it correctly, Ludger was screaming, “AREN’T YOU SUPPOSED TO BE A PROFESSIONAL?? HOW HAVE YOU KEPT UP YOUR IDENTITIES IF THIS IS HOW YOU BEHAVE??” …or something along those lines.
Attention, especially when provided by Heathcliff, was still attention in the end, and there wasn’t much that could get John’s heart fluttering as if he was a teenage school girl like the prospect of his idol paying attention to him.
John shot back an equally piercing glare, and maintained the guise of boredom while doing so, just to prove a point. Butterflies swarmed in his stomach and John desperately fought the urge to throw up right then and there.
Esmerelda turned to look at Heathcliff. “…John Doe. I thought you preferred to work alone.” She raised her eyebrow.
She was suspicious already? That was a bad sign. Well, nothing the god of lying out of his ass couldn't overcome.
‘Come on, Heathcliff! Remember the practice! You can do this!’ John cheered him on internally.
Letting out a long suffering sigh, ‘Doe’ crossed his arms, leaned back, and rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately,” he said, voice dripping with disdain, “someone exposed the existence of Black Dawn to Willows, and now I have to sweep in and fix their mistake.” He paused for dramatic effect, and scoffed, “Like always.“
In an effort to muffle his laugh, John bent over his right arm and ducked his head under the table. On the inside however, John was sweating buckets.
‘Why is he so good at impersonating me?!’ John paused and then gasped internally. ‘That level of knowledge can’t just be taught, it has to be carefully honed by careful observation. Has he been studying me like I do him? Oh stars, I don't think I would be able to handle that… that means he’s probably seen my little tics and habits! Oh, I'm so screwed…’ John thought with dread, furiously shoving down the blush that kept on trying to surface.
“For all that boasting you do, you can’t even find a subordinate of your own. Must you keep begging for scraps? I pity you.” John could feel Esmerelda’s disapproving glare attempting to pierce a hole in the back of his head.
“Now, now,” ‘Doe’ began, his voice soft.
Both John and Esmerelda shot up and turned their gaze to ‘Doe’. For a second, John had thought he was in an actual conference with Zero Order.
‘I need to tell Heathcliff to not do that voice. Ever. In my presence, at least. Ugh, it’s so icky.’ John shuddered.
‘He’s still hot though. Smash. And also, why is he so good at commandeering attention?! He needs to give me lessons sometime. Or I can just study him and get an excuse to stare at him for extended periods of time. Especially that chest. Ohh goodness those tittes… Yep, the second option sounds a lot better.’
‘Doe’ smiled, face deceivingly welcoming, “Jealousy looks ugly on you, Esmerelda.” ‘Doe’ intertwined his fingers and rested his chin on them, “I understand, really!”
His voice grew harsher and he dropped his smile, “You think that just because I hold my tongue in Zero Order’s presence, I’ll do the same for you,” ‘Doe’ smiled again and said with a playful lilt to his voice, “don’t you?”
Shaking his head in disappointment, ‘Doe’ clicked his tongue. “Esmerelda, dear,” he said, as if berating a child, “who exactly do you think is in charge of all your documents? Who secured a position in Ceoren for you? Hmm? Oh, I do wonder. Would you happen to know?”
‘Damn, he can really predict all of First Order John Doe’s actions,’ John sweated internally.
‘Not that I mind, of course. It’s an honor to take up such a position in Heathcliff’s mind!’ He amended.
‘Of course, I would prefer to take up a space in some other parts of his mind too, ykwim?’
Esmerelda’s fist tightened around the arm rest.
John and Heathcliff both waited with bated breath, desperately praying that she wouldn’t crash the fuck out and summon Quasimodo.
Her death grip loosened and she took a deep breath, calming herself. “I’m a First Order too, John Doe. I’ll tolerate it this time because admittedly, I acted out of line. But. The next time you try and pull this type of shit again, especially in an actual meeting, I’ll fucking kill you.” She glared at ‘Doe’.
‘Lmao.’ John snickered internally, ‘Good luck, I guess. Oh shit, wait. I’ll have to deal with the fallout.
‘OH NO-‘
“Yeah, yeah,” ‘Doe’ waved his hand flippantly, but John could see the sweat slowly accumulating on his face. ‘Doe’ swiped his hand up and encased both him and John in his magic teleporter shadow, or whatever he called it and they made their escape.
Could've stood to be more fashionable and extra, but it was best to escape in the fastest way possible to guarantee their safety.
Welp, guess the identities handled Heathcliff Van Bretus and John Doe were now irreversibly intertwined. Now, how to deal with this situation..?
After confirming their location was secure, Heathcliff immediately ripped off his fake skin mask while John braced his hands on his knees, gasping for air.
“Holy hell if she crashed out we were cooked. Literally.” John said, sweating.
“Wait really..?” A bead of sweat ran down Heathcliff’s face, “I thought you said it was normal for her to get pissed off…?” Heathcliff ran his fingers through his hair, and by the stars was he sexy as hell.
‘Ahem. Don’t get distracted right now. Now isn’t the time…’
“Nah, she was for reals this time. You can tell by her mana signature and how much it flares up.” John stood up and stretched, before remembering how much work he had to do.
“Are you okay?” Heathcliff asked, concerned, as he watched John almost deflate. Holding out John’s medication, Heathcliff downed his own.
Again, John was reminded of the fact that he would have to fight off an obscene amount of admirers, because even Heathcliff’s concern made John’s heart skip a beat. In his (not so) humble opinion, no man should be able to be that attractive, but, alas, here Heathcliff was, being the exception to yet another rule.
More eye candy for him, at least.
He could practically feel the way Heathcliff’s eyes followed John’s adams apple, as if he was scared John wouldn’t take the medicine. Ridiculous and also so real and true. If it was anyone else offering the medicine, John would have dumped it out in a heartbeat. Heathcliff was so lucky John was a fool when lovesick.
John wiped his mouth, then rested his hands on his hips and leaned to one side, “Yep!” He answered, with way too much cheer in his voice.
Heathcliff, that sexy, sexy man, picked up on that and offered yet another concerned look that threatened to send John into cardiac arrest.
Clearing his throat, John sheepishly said, “…You got me, Heathcliff. I’m just worried about the logistics and stuff. Nothing major!” John frantically waved his arms around.
“I thought that we were going to work out the kinks of the plan together? Was I mistaken?” Heathcliff asked, confused.
‘I wouldn’t mind him working out my kinks iykwim…’
“…we were?!” John responded back, equally, if not more, confused.
Heathcliff sputtered for a bit, trying to understand how the hell John’s mind worked, which was actually quite fair. John wondered how his mind functioned also. Rather often, too.
“So you’re telling me,” Heathcliff ventured, “that you thought I,” he gestured to himself, “was just going to leave you,” Heathcliff gestured to John, “my romantic partner, alone while I run off to stars knows where while you plan everything out and work out the logistics?” He said every word with an enviable amount of tact and grace, as if talking to an agitated stray cat.
John tilted his head a little to the left, looking at Heathcliff oddly. “Is that not how it normally works?” John shifted his weight to his other leg, “People better at the jobs are in charge of doing said jobs. I’m the best at logistics and planning so I do all that stuff in collaborations. It saves me time too, since I’ll end up ironing out the messy bits if the other Orders did the planning, anyway.”
Heathcliff seriously looked about three seconds away from committing a serious act of terrorism, which was surprisingly supportive of him!
After all that time he spent trying to convince John to not live a life of crime and instead to turn to the light or whatever, John was actually pretty excited with how the turn tables! (Or how the tables had turned. However that saying worked. He could burn that bridge when he got to it.)
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but for every collaboration you’ve ever worked on, you’ve just planned the entire thing yourself?”
John shrugged. “Basically. Not at the beginning of my career, though.”
“I-“ Heathcliff cut himself off and rubbed his nose bridge. “I need you to meet Hans and the other members of U.N. Owen.”
Gasping, John exclaimed, “You’re finally letting me meet your terrorist organization?!”
“It is not a terrorist organization!” Heathcliff insisted.
“You seriously struck a ton of terror in the public’s heart with that Kunst Auction House stunt, and you guys are an organization, so, it’s a terrorist organization!” John reasoned.
Heathcliff paused, seriously thinking it over, for some reason. “…You may be right…” He admitted, “but that is besides the point!”
‘One to the dictionary that I’m choosing to ignore, one to Heathcliff! A tie!’
“Just,” Heathcliff sighed and held his hand out, “please take my hand.”
John lowered his hand at a snail’s pace like the fair Victorian maiden he was, all the while bashfully covering his mouth with his fingertips and fluttering his eyelashes at Heathcliff. Eventually though, Heathcliff got tired of his antics and just grabbed John’s hand.
“Oh my! How forward of you, Professor!” John purposely stopped fighting back the blush and let his entire face, turn a pleasant shade of pink.
Now, all there was to do was wait.
“John-“ Heathcliff began, only to be interrupted by a few people that John presumed to be members of U.N. Owen flooding into the room.
In the few moments between Heathcliff turning around and the members of U.N. Owen entering, John disguised himself with a bit of illusion magic.
“Boss?!” A tanned blonde boy was the first to notice John. He gave off straight, so no competition there.
“Oooh~ who is this fair lady?” An elf with orange hair snickered. That was probably the resident doctor Heathcliff had mentioned many a time. Bellaluna, if John wasn't mistaken.
‘Two first names in one? Seriously?’
“What do you mean-“ Heathcliff turned around to face John again, only to see him now donning the appearance of a pretty woman with curly back hair, soft emerald colored eyes and a pale complexion, not unlike those of the dying.
Soft black fabric hugged his (her?) curves, not that he had many in the first place, though, even in this appearance.
Not for the first time, John was jealous of Heathcliff’s well endowed breasts that made for excellent pillows.
The dress wasn’t of the highest quality — John, as opposed to popular opinion, wasn’t crazy enough to carry around a high quality dress everywhere to play pranks on people — but it was a dress nonetheless.
With a slightly out of date pattern and obvious signs of being mended, John, or, rather, Emily, looked the part of a lucky peasant girl living a modest life that had gained the attention of a rich nobleman, a part played by Heathcliff Van Bretus, not by choice, of course.
Heathcliff scrambled to form a coherent sentence, fumbling about before finally saying, “When did you have enough time to change into a dress?!”
John preened internally when he realized that Heathcliff was caught off guard. Those sleepless years of mastering quick changes finally felt worth it.
“Sir Ludger!” Emily stepped away from Heathcliff, a hurt expression on her face, “Why are you pretending to not know me now?! Did last night mean nothing to you?!” She demanded, clutching her dress.
The lady with black hair and violet eyes that had been content to just observe finally intervened, pulling the collar of Heathcliff’s shirt. “Ludger Cherish…” she forced out the name through gritted teeth with a harsh edge to her voice.
She wore dark clothes, like she was constantly attending a funeral, which meant she was most probably the seamstress Heathcliff had spoken about, Violetta.
“What did you do.” Violetta demanded, her question coming out more like an order. She loomed over Heathcliff like he was but a tiny ant. A short engineer with white hair and tan skin waltzed in the room and kicked the back of Heathcliff’s knee, bringing him to a kneel.
‘Sorry not sorry, Heathcliff! It’s the least you deserve for that Esmeralda stunt.’ John snickered internally.
Because Heathcliff was an intelligent man, he immediately raised his arms up in surrender and sent a pleading expression John’s way.
How did a man look so attractive even when in such a pitiful state? Suddenly John could understand the allure of men similar to drenched wet bags.
“Pfft.”
A snicker escaped, and all eyes immediately shot towards him. Well, the jig was up. Fun while it lasted, though.
“Alright, alright.” John flicked a tear away and lifted his right arm across and upwards to his left. He made a pinching motion at the air and pulled down at the air diagonally. His appearance shimmered and fell to give way to John in his entirety, black hair, blue eyes and all.
Now that he thought about it, he looked suspiciously similar to Heathcliff. One could even mistake them for siblings. At that thought, he snickered once again.
‘Siblings or dating?’
“Ahem,” he cleared his throat. John went up to pat Heathcliff’s head with affection, messing up his hair in the process. “Sorry, dear. Will you forgive me?” John pouted a bit and widened his eyes to give off the best innocent angel that could do no wrong aura he could without bursting into laughter.
Violetta relaxed her grip and took a few steps back, alternating wide eyed glances between him and Heathcliff. The rest of U.N. Owen's members weren’t much better, as their reactions varied from watching in great amusement from the sidelines to looking at them in horror.
“You- I-… HUH?” A sickly pale man that looked half dead stumbled across the other U.N. Owen members crowding around the room and in the hallway. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?!” He exclaimed, pointing at John.
“Rude. I look healthier than you!” John put his hands on his hips.
The young boy that at some point materialized — lucky stars, was that kid even breathing? — happily said, “That man was originally a woman and is in a relationship with the boss! And what do you mean he’s supposed to be dead? Is he like me?”
Heathcliff got up and brushed himself off, fixing his appearance in the meanwhile. “Everyone, this is John Doe, my romantic partner.” Heathcliff blushed a bit while saying the last part.
All the U.N. Owen members collectively gasped. The mechanic-engineer girl clapped John’s arm with a bright smile on her face. “I think you’ll fit right in!”
“I didn’t even detect the slightest bit of magic back there, how did you do it?” Violetta asked.
“I respect your tastes, boss.” A polar bear beastman nodded and walked away.
They all either swarmed John or left, collectively agreeing to ignore Heathcliff for the time being.
John sent a wink and blew a kiss Heathcliff’s way before similarly ignoring him.
————
“…You’re better than I expected at these kinds of things, Doe.” Hans — he learned the scrawny guy’s name was — said, a bit of apprehension coloring his voice.
They — as in the U.N. Owen members minus Pantos, the beastman, Heathcliff, and surprisingly, Sedena — were huddled around a large floor plan in the room where the meeting table was supposed to be. Pantos had removed it for more space.
Large piles of paper were strewn across the room which made it smell like a library, only with more ink and graphite. All that mixed with the fact that there were candles burning to keep enough light in the room, they were probably gonna pass out from oxygen deprivation so John used a bit of magic to open a few windows.
The fresh scent of petrichor quickly spread as cold air blew in.
“Hey! The papers are gonna get messed up, Doe!” Hans complained, grabbing onto the sheets that started to drift towards the fires and ink pots.
John, the ever dutiful lover, flung himself across Han’s shoulders, disturbing even more papers. “Just call me John, hyung!”
Alex snickered, but stopped once Hans shot him a harsh glare. Arpa, the machine thing, looked on like they were bugs in a cage. That, or he was dissociating. Very creepy, 0/10.
Hans shrugged John off his shoulders, moving away from him. “…Hyung?”
“Yeah! Aren’t you in your mid forties? That would make you my hyung, no?”
“I am not in my forties!” Hans insisted, “I’m not much older than the Ceoren students!”
Sheridan, the pseudo mechanic and engineer, full on belly laughed.
Belluna clarified in Sheridan’s place, saying, “Unfortunately, Hans isn’t lying. He’s twenty five and just looks real old,” while holding back a laugh of her own.
John gave Hans an empathetic look while reevaluating his pathetic-ness ranking. “…I see… my condolences. You’re still my hyung, though.”
“He is?” Violetta asked, shocked and covering her mouth slightly.
He affirmed. “Yep!” John said, popping the p. “I’m twenty three myself!” He said, sitting in a criss-cross position and scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Wow! Even with your age, your skills are the real deal!” Alex complimented with a beaming smile and glint in his eye.
Just as he was about to respond, the door to his left swung open and a panting Sedena entered. “Apologies for my poor behavior-“ she started to say, before seeing John.
“Ludger?! I just saw you at Ceoren, though? Why didn’t you teleport me with you?! And why has your appearance changed again?!”
“Mhm, John Doe, actually. I’m not Heathcliff.” John shifted slightly so he was now bent over himself but his head was still turned to keep Sedena in his peripheral vision.
He absentmindedly started scribbling a few lines on the paper, pretending to not look at her so she could have a semblance of privacy while she organized her thoughts.
The others glanced between the two of them, and Alex was about to get up before Sedena spoke.
“Can I ask you a question?”
John glanced at her before turning back to the paper. “You just did.” John fidgeted with the pencil slightly, bringing it up to his chin.
They all looked on in silence. John suspected the main reason they didn’t throttle him immediately was because of his connection to Heathcliff.
‘Tough crowd, huh? Ugh, the things I do for that sexy man… he’s so lucky his face is like eye candy and his body looks like a statue carved by Lumensis himself.’
“Hmm? Was that out of line?” He leaned backwards and rested his weight on his arms to give her his undivided attention.
“Sorry. You can ask away.” He nodded slightly towards her.
Sedena clenched her fists and looked down. She took a deep breath and calmed herself before steeling her nerves and finally asking, “Do you love the boss?”
“Excuse me?” John asked back immediately, dumbfounded. He leaned forward to sit in a criss cross position and pinched his nose bridge, sighing.
“I’ll have you know I was the first and original fan of his, alright? You only converted after you found out he was posing as me. You have no right to doubt my affections, Second Order Sedena Rosen.” He rested his cheek on his left palm, elbow on his knee.
John waited for her to react for a few minutes.
When she just stood there like a child being scolded by a parent, John decided to relieve her of her suffering. He turned back to focus on the swaths of paper haphazardly arranged around them and pat the clear spot of ground beside him, feeling the varnished wood flooring.
Sedena looked at him, confused.
“Do I really have to say it?” John cocked his eyebrow, “Last time I checked, you were pretty decent at logistics, yeah? I’d rank you in the top twenty among Black Dawn, so get your ass over here and help. These,” he tilted his head towards the members of U.N. Owen who only smiled and waved in response, “people you call family sorely need it.”
Said failures only looked away guiltily, with the exception of Hans who bravely stared back at John. He even would’ve looked cool, of not for the fact that he was trembling like a leaf on a dry branch.
“…Wait… You’re the John Doe boss pretended to be? The First Order John Doe of Black Dawn?” Arpa asked.
John blinked once, then twice. “…This is who you betrayed Black Dawn for, Sedena Rosen?” He shook his head in disapproval.
“Well… he’s trying his best, and thats all that matters, right? You said that to me, Doe.” Sedena’s entire body shook with fear.
“Did I say that? I don’t recall. But, for the sake of my continued livelihood, let’s say I did indeed say that. Now come on.” John walked over to her and pulled her into the group huddle.
————
“I still can’t believe we agreed to this.” Hans muttered under his breath. He and John were perched atop one of the rafters that supported the ceiling and disguised with some illusion magic courtesy of John.
“Come on, Hans! Don’t be such a downer!” John nudged Hans slightly and almost sent him tumbling down the rafters.
“Oops.”
“Hey, watch it!” Hans whisper-yelled, and then mumbled, “I knew bringing in mosquitoes or something would’ve been a better idea.”
“Maybe, but where’s the fun in that? It’s always good to stretch your legs and take a few risks every now and then! In order to live a fulfilling life, one must try to find joy in the small things.” John lectured while jotting down a few notes.
They made their way back to the roof, meeting up with Violetta and Sheridan who had just landed.
“Change of plans, everyone!” John declared, “We need to reroute.”
”Why?” Sheridan asked, jumping down from Violetta’s hold, “Everything looked fine to me. The dimensions and calculations for the bomb checked out, and the Quasimodo should fit perfectly fine.”
Hans clapped John on the shoulder and leaned towards Sheridan, using John as a pseudo cane. “The actual planting of the bombs and the act of carrying out the plan would be stupidly dangerous to an unnecessary degree.”
John froze for a while, but beamed after he regained his bearings. “Exactly! It’s definitely gotten better after the renovations, but the building is ultimately one that prioritizes form and aesthetics over function and safety.”
“…It was worse before?!” Hans asked, jaw agape, “And you’re telling me you decided to go through with the first Quasimodo plan?!”
A blush crept up John’s neck. “When you say it like that, it sounds pretty bad, doesn't it?” He coughed into his hand slightly, “In my defense, Esmeralda purposely kept me out of the loop ‘cause I tend to get a bit overbearing and that would only get in the way of her revenge.”
Heaving an exasperated sigh, Hans rubbed the back of his neck. “Let’s just get back to the hideout already…”
The air around them got static-y and Heathcliff appeared. “There’s no need to reroute. I’ll plant the bomb myself.”
“Eh?! No way! I called dibs!” John put his hands on his hips.
“I can just teleport you there…”
John raised his eyebrow and gave Heathcliff a judgemental glare. “You’d seriously hurt yourself if you tried transporting all those materials and whatever with me in tow. It’d be better to just go with the original route and take multiple trips at that point.”
The wind tousled Heathcliff’s hair, making John’s heart skip a beat. At this rate, he was gonna fold, and rather quickly, too.
‘No, come on, me! Keep your composure!’ Just as he thought that, John noticed the harness Heathcliff had on, and the blush threatened to come back with full force. He quickly averted his eyes and wiped off any traces of drool.
“The schedule is gonna be pretty tight. We have to get everything done by Friday to be in time for the last day of the festival.” Heathcliff held his chin, complicated expression on his face.
“We’ve all worked with tight deadlines before, right, everyone?” John gathered Hans, Sheridan and Violetta in for a group hug, “This should be nothing!”
Famous last words. Rerouting turned out to be a total headache and the entire plan had to be scrapped, leaving them with three days to come up with a new one.
—————
“I should have never asked to reroute…” John banged his head against the wall in despair while being careful enough to not disturb the sheets of paper that had gotten perched in the most precarious of situations. He was once again back in the fucking dungeon meeting room, but this time with no others to bounce his ideas off of other than playboy straight man Alex.
“Now now…” Alex tried to comfort John to no avail. In a last ditch effort, Alex brought out the big guns; “Boss! Come comfort your boyfriend!” he yelled.
“I do not need comforting!” John forced out the words through gritted teeth, grabbing the front of Alex’s shirt in an almost chokehold.
Alex raised both his hands in surrender and the only warning John got was the sound of Heathcliff’s footsteps against the ground, the pitter-patter of Sedena’s not far behind him.
“Are you okay?” Sedena exclaimed, while Heathcliff rushed towards John and examined John’s face by grabbing it with his hands and roughly turning him around to see if he had any injuries.
The thought of Heathcliff’s strength being applied to other situations made John a slight bit lightheaded.
‘Come on, this is not the time, nor place to thirst! There are others in the room!’
“Yep! I'm in tip top shape! Just a false alarm.” John dug his heels into the ground and pushed at Heathcliff’s very firm chest in an effort to get away.
Sedena finally got a good look at him and promptly exclaimed, “Oh stars! It looks like you just crawled up from hell! How much sleep have you been getting?!”
Faced with Heathcliff’s confused expression, Sedena clicked her tongue and tapped her feet. “Mister Doe, are you seriously using illusion magic right now?” She sighed, much like a disappointed parent, “I expected better…”
A shiver ran down John’s spine. ‘Is this how people with active parents in their lives have to exist? How awful…’
“Release the illusion. Right now.” She demanded.
John complied with a weak, “Yes, boss…”
Both Alex and Heathcliff gasped in horror once faced with the full force of his unkempt face.
“Oh my stars.” They whispered in unison.
“It’s not that bad!” John protested, “This is one of the looser deadlines I’ve had to work with! I was just being dramatic for a bit.”
“Then you should be dramatic more often, John.” Heathcliff frowned at him, and John got the sudden urge to smoothen out the wrinkle in between Heathcliff’s eyebrows. He still looked incredibly handsome — that much was still true — but still, it was pretty upsetting to be the reason why your partner stressed so much.
‘Oh, trust me, you do not want me to be more dramatic.’
John was hit with a sudden pang of guilt.
“Hey, how about we try and fix up the plan while you rest for a bit?” Alex suggested, “It can’t be that bad, right?” He asked, with a hint of hope in his voice.
The small sliver of hope Alex was hanging on to was promptly snuffed out as John crouched down, right then and there, to hold his head in his hands.
“IT ISSSS..!” He yelled out, voice trembling, “It is that bad!” John started sobbing uncontrollably.
“At-“ John sniffed, wiping a flood of tears away only for another wave to take their place, “At this point, it would be better to just scrap it all and start over!” He yelled hysterically.
Sedena’s eyes widened, horrified. “But today’s Thursday!” She whispered.
“EXACTLY!!!!” John cried out.
————
John took a sip of his cola, watching from the sidelines as all hell broke loose. “Good plan, by the way.” He raised his drink in Heathcliff’s direction. They were sitting on the rooftop of a nearby building and watching the chaos unfold like it was a play. A rather good play, mind you.
The cold and windy air made John wrap his jacket tighter to himself. His black hair decided now was a great time to constantly block his view. Not for the first time, John contemplated going fully bald.
Quasimodo had no mercy on those poor souls, and-
Oh wow, were those the Night Crawler Knights? Damn, even they were getting involved? John raised a glass to Quasimodo and Esmeralda.
Black hair smacked John’s face, and he couldn’t help but have the urge to shave that silky smooth mass off. How did Heathcliff manage it?!
Not that John would, though. Heathcliff would look horrible as a bald man, but John would never stop loving him.
Yes, even with his long ass hair that kept getting everywhere.
Heathcliff nodded back, rummaging through his pocket, totally unaware with the internal crisis John was having. After a few moments of searching around, he finally fished out an… earpiece?
“So you can hear what’s going on,” he explained when prompted.
What were the odds there was a needle hidden inside that would pop out and injure John’s ear when he put it in? Not zero, that's for sure, but John’s resolve crumpled like a wet sheet of paper when he saw Heathcliff’s soft, encouraging smile.
John took a deep breath in and carefully put the device in his ear. For his efforts, he was rewarded with the pleasant sound of screams.
‘Ah, Heathcliff really knows me.’ John thought, smiling back at Heathcliff.
(“THERE’S NOWHERE TO ESCAPE TO NOW, KROLLOS!”)
“Thanks.” John said, and then he closed his eyes to savor the noise. Could he ask Sheridan to add a recording function to his earpiece sometime?
(“NO, PLEASE! KNIGHTS! HELP!”)
(“Shit! Not this fire spirit again! Quick, attack the contractor!”)
(“Casey Selmore is here! We’re saved!”)
The pleasant smell of freshly cooked food wafted around the air. With it was the telltale smell of his favorite teakwood candles. They were pretty expensive around this time of year thanks to the ambiance they brought. Had Heathcliff wasted his salary on these? John hoped not.
After all, he still had a pile of them stashed away in the various places he frequented. Maybe Heathcliff had found one of them and used those instead? No, that would be out of character for him, and John prided himself on knowing Heathcliff well.
(“STAND BACK, EVERYONE!”)
It was probably about time for John to open his eyes and play along. Heathcliff would get worried if he didn’t.
John had expected food and candles, but what he did not expect to see when he next opened his eyes was a whole dinner spread. Truly, Heathcliff was the best partner anyone could ask for.
(“QUICK! ATTACK- WHat? TeAr GAs-“)
He drank the sight of Heathcliff, dressed in a nice suit that somehow made his very pleasing to the eye figure stand out more. He looked good in reds and blacks, that was for sure.
Steak, lobster, foie gras, scallops. Wow, he really did go all out. John’s wallet hurt from just seeing those foods. Were they really going to be eating those? Surely the money would’ve been better spent on the plan?
(“HOLD YOUR BREATH AND PUT A CLOTH OVER YOUR NOSE!”)
(“Do you really think we’ll just let you do that?”)
‘No, it was bad to complain- whatthefuck is that a bottle of Château Cheval Blanc? How did he know I like wine??? Have I really been that obvious about my alcoholism??? I need to get my shit together, holy hell…’
Heathcliff fidgeted and stood around awkwardly, trying to gauge his reaction.
One, two, three, four… and then it finally clicked.
“CanIkissyou?” John blurted out.
Okay, okay. In his defense, it seemed like a good question to ask, alright? Who knew if Heathcliff had somehow, someway, gotten sick or didn’t like kissing?
John stood stock still, jaw agape as he watched a blush creep up Heathcliff’s neck, all the way to his face and ears. It was more prominent around his ears, but his entire face was a pretty shade of pink. Splotchy, uneven, but wholly Heathcliff’s.
And what could be better than that?
Then John had his second big revelation of the night.
Oh, this guy was a freaking virgin.
Somehow, that only made him more endearing. How had he even gone this long without having a kiss? No, a better explanation was that John Doe was hallucinating because there was no way Heathcliff Van Brutus himself was blushing like a fair maiden at the thought of a mere kiss.
Heathcliff hesitantly leaned in and-
John gave him a quick peck on the cheek, which Heathcliff certainly did not expect by the way he recoiled back, blushing even more furiously.
Bullying this little guy was just too endearing, John decided. It would be dangerous for his heart if he took the teasing any farther. It was all or nothing, and John was never one to back down.
He offered a big, dopey smile to Heathcliff as an apology and pulled him in for a real kiss, this time. Heathcliff tasted salty, sweet, sour, and savory, and was that umami John was tasting?
His idol, Heathcliff Van Bretus, tasted like Worcestershire sauce?
Well, if it fit, it fit, and boy did it fit Heathcliff. It was tasty, too, so no complaints here!
It was probably remnants of the steak marinade Heathcliff no doubt used because he was just extra like that, but it was still a wonder how it clung to Heathcliff after such a long time. Would Heathcliff cling to their memories together the same way? John hoped so.
They pulled away and smiled at each other, enjoying the moment.
For a fleeting moment, he could believe in the beauty of life, and that’s all that really mattered, wasn’t it?