Work Text:
Following that brief exchange Nigel had with that stupid boy from the field, he tries not to think of periwinkle blues. Seeing them for the first time had genuinely launched him into a fight or flight mode, especially when the boy opened his mouth. He had the biggest urge to smack him for mouthing off, and to also squish his cheeks, because why the fuck not?
But he had promised his mama that he won't cause trouble for her anymore. For his sake, she said—yeah right. He's a big boy, he can take care of himself.
...but that boy surely couldn't.
A loud smack on the back of his head interrupts his thoughts and his chin falls from its perch on his palm. He turns around and glares at whoever dared, only to find out that it's Markus Hansen. AP. Shit. Right. He was failing AP and he needs to fucking catch up, otherwise, he's off the team—and from the looks of it, Markus seems to know it too. Bastard was probably the one to bring it up to Harlan. Of course, he's a sadistic fuck who is weirdly obsessed with history. Who the hell gives a fuck about who saved America and shit. Romania is superior anyway.
___
"—do you think?"
"Huh?" Nigel snaps out of his thought and grunts.
Apparently that was the wrong answer because Bobby Bronson groans obnoxiously in front of him while chewing on his sandwich. Piece of shit had the gall to assume Nigel was listening when he started yapping about whatever the sun touched. Like he was interested enough to know whatever put Bronson's panties in a twist!
"I said yer fucking failing yer AP and Markus doesn't tolerate bullshit." To which Nigel snorts and challenges, "How the fuck do you know?"
"'cause I failed, you idiot! He says he's pullin' you out, he's pulling you out!"
Right then, Bobby starts coughing and sputtering, launching chunks of chewed-up bits of salami and cheese from his mouth. Nigel grimaces and puts his arm up, leaning back with a disgusted face. "Jesus Christ, you're a fucking pig." Bobby takes it as a challenge and starts hacking harder, because fuck—that was possible.
And since he's being a good friend, he'll be merciful enough to let Bobby save face, and move on—because he's not that much of an asshole, at least not right now.
"So what the fuck was that about AP?"
"I said—" Whatever Bobby was going to say will have to wait because as soon as he opened his mouth, the boy from the field comes up to them, stopping short of their desk but there. Who wouldn't notice him with that grossed out expression and his grandma vest?
Nigel snorts.
Adam narrows his eyes but doesn't allow himself to be deterred. "Please stop coughing so loud and cover your mouth, it's very unsanitary and you're disrupting everyone else from eating their lunch."
There he was again with his very memorable and abrupt interruptions. Bobby's mouth is agape with the audacity—Nigel's pretty sure he reacted the same the first time, and he'd do it again if he was alone, but he was fortunate enough not to be in the receiving end of the little man's ire. He wasn't going to lie—it was amusing as fuck to be the watcher this time.
"I'm sorry what the fuck—"
"Forgiven."
Nigel guffaws this time. Unfiltered and unhinged, shameless with his cackling. It's even loud enough that he sees Adam flinch. Then again, tiny man is so scrawny he's probably scared of everything. What a wimp.
Unfortunately, Bobby doesn't take Adam's remark with the same sense of amusement, he jumps out of his seat and looms over the smaller boy, ready to intimidate. Nigel is quick to react this time, snatching Bobby's arm and getting up to meddle. "Hey, knock it off. That's Harlan's boy. You move, he'll snitch."
The two exchange looks between a very alarmed yet clueless Adam. It takes a second for the tension to bleed out of Bobby's shoulders. He takes a look at Adam and hisses, storming out. "Whatever, man. He's not even worth the fucking trouble."
...
"..is that who you're fraternizing with?"
"Beg your finest pardon?"
Adam squints at him and adjusts his tray. Nigel lets himself be distracted. Mac and Cheese. Saltine Crackers. A bottle of water. That fucking explains a lot.
"You mentioned Harlan," Adam says plainly and recalls the angry expression on Bobby's face before he stormed off. "He's Will's cousin isn't he? Number 02, he's your Running Back."
Nigel's eyebrows rise at the remark, unable to hide his reaction. He whistles, motions for Adam to sit down on where Bobby was previously sitting on. "Wow, you're doing your homework." It takes a while but the little man picks up the signal when he sits on his own seat too. He moved mechanically, distracted by the obstruction, until Nigel shifted Bobby’s tray away.
"Yes, I do my homework, it's everybody's responsibility if they want to pass their subjects but—I was talking about the football team."
"I know, Adam."
"Yes, so it's not really homework."
"I know, Adam." He repeats. Then he realizes late that he might be acting condescending, so he eases his posture and picks up his fork again. "Look, I don't want to be an asshole, Bobby's the asshole, not me—"
"Do you like making jokes about dirt? You keep making them."
Nigel slow blinks. Holy shit.
"...s'pose I do make shit jokes."
Adam tilts his head, then eventually nods, unable to make sense of Nigel's snicker. "Well, I can't say I understand, but Harlan says I'm not supposed to nitpick at what others find fun or funny." He seems to mean it, so Nigel lets it go with a mere shrug of his shoulder. "So what about fraternizing again?"
"Oh, yes. Number 02. I don't know why Harlan says he's a good kid, he seemed to want to punch me earlier. I know aggression is often associated with sport because athletes always..." Adam pauses and looks up to make sure that Nigel was still listening, when he finds the bigger man looking, he furrows his brows and resumes with his ramblings. "Athletes always release hormones like testosterone and adrenaline, which increase the likelihood of impulsive physical behavior. Sometimes they misinterpret social hierarchy because of it and think position is defined by dominance."
A beat.
"If everyone in the team behaves like that, how do you decide who to listen to? I wonder if you actually understand social ramifications of bodily aggression and peer reinforcement, and if so, how do you listen to Harlan? I don't think he's very aggressive.”
Nigel blinks at him, fork halfway to his mouth. Holy shit.
"Wow... you talk a lot." He swallows around his food and makes a wild gesture at the air again, "So you're saying, you believe, what—we have to jump and scream around, say, demonstrate our aggression to communicate?"
Sheepishly, Adam nods. "Is that not how..?"
Nigel squawks, briefly he wonders if this is how he should be spending his break. "I don't—"
The watch on Adam's wrist vibrates, and in turn, the little man vibrates too. "Oh. Please stop talking, I have to finish my lunch now, you'll distract me."
The taller boy could only stare with a dumbfounded expression now as Adam eats. Nigel wonders again, how could someone panic yet eat so carefully at the same time. Hell, how could someone talk a lot all by himself, not get bored, and not ask for input.
Each encounter with this boy leaves him feeling so dumbstruck he's actually left reeling.
Nigel shakes his head, grinning to himself. “Tiny man,” he mutters under his breath, fork paused midair, “you’re impossible.”