Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Pull Up For The J! ❯ Enter Sandman ( Chapter 21 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Manga-Chick 
Not ALL men call to apologize for all the wrongs they've done...is this an early indication of good things to come?
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.21.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 6.5K | Visits: 215 | Status: Completed
Not ALL men call to apologize for all the wrongs they've done...is this an early indication of good things to come?
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.21.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 6.5K | Visits: 215 | Status: Completed
Chapter Twenty-One~
“Enter Sandman” Metallica
Jake hurried over after the congratulatory lines had dissipated, a furious expression on his face. Michael saw this, and huddled close to Quatre for protection. Quatre heard the sounds of laughter from his teammates once more, and felt his blood boiling. He was going to make every last one of them suffer for this humiliation.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Jake snarled at him, looking wholly infuriated.
“What?! What the fuck are you getting mad at me for?!” Quatre exclaimed, Michael looking on in interest at the words.
“I’m trying to raise him right! And you’re fucking---excuse me---messing things up! He copies what other people do!”
Quatre snorted, glaring at him and stiffening at the accusation that Michael’s copycat mannerisms were all his fault. “Well then. You’d better not let him catch you and your woman doing the dirty, or you’ll find yourself a grandpappy at twenty-five.”
Jake’s face turned a curious shade of purple red, Michael’s eyes widening as he watched his father closely. Noticing this, it took Jake considerable effort to turn away from Quatre, and face him. Michael looked at Quatre with an uncertain expression, while the blond remained smug with his last comment.
“Where’s your fu---your mother?” Jake ground out.
“She’s with Andrea and Cindy, daddy. She wouldn’t listen to me,” Michael reported gravely, the very picture of innocence. Quatre, ever the smug bastard that he tried to be when wanting to piss someone off, gave a similar expression and nodded gravely. A tic developed in Jake’s left eye, and that same curious color returned to his face.
“I tried telling her that I was thirsty, and she wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Why?!”
“I don’t know, daddy. She was talking with her friends. I tried telling her, daddy. But I was real thirsty.”
“Well, I’ll buy you something to drink, then,” Jake said gruffly, holding his hand out so he could assist Michael off the bench. He glared at Quatre, who smiled and waved, relieved that his babysitting efforts were being dismissed. “I’ll talk to you later, fucker.”
“Ooh, Daddy, you cussed. Are you really mad?”
“Not at you, son.”
“Bye!” Michael said to Quatre, waving cheerfully. Quatre managed a tight smile, then watched the two walk away, heading toward the cafeteria. Triton once again sat near him, obviously suppressing his laughter. Quatre turned his murderous expression to him, wondering if he could get away with a scrotum buster in front of all these people.
“Where’s the nanny taking your kid, Quat? Shouldn’t you be supervising? You know what they say if the nanny has the kids all the time---!”
“They turn out like you! Fuck you, Triton, you scummy whore! He’s not my kid! I don’t even know the kid! I don’t even know his fucking father!” Quatre snarled viciously.
Triton snorted, rubbing his hands together. “Okay, okay, I won’t fuck around with you, anymore. Shit, you take things so damn personally…”
“Fuck you, asshole.””Maybe it’ll be the other way around someday, eh?”
“There’s no way I’m letting you on my ass, motherfucker…”
Triton laughed, slapped his shoulder, and walked back to the others.
Quatre scowled at all of them, earning more laughter in his direction. Pouting that he was the brunt of their jokes due to Michael’s presence, he crossed his arms over his chest and stared sullenly at the next pair of teams that took the court.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
At halftime of Apollo Prestigious against Balkin Public, Quatre wandered into the cafeteria to find another Gatorade, and waited patiently in line. He had just taken out his cell phone and was prepared to try and call Justin when someone curled their hand within his shirt, jerked him out of line, and forcefully pulled him out from the cafeteria. He was wholly surprised, caught off guard as he found himself stumbling on the sidewalk, hitting the wall for balance.
“What the fuck--?!” he shouted, turning around.
Jake advanced on him, looking entirely furious as he grabbed his shirt, and shoved him against the wall.
“I realize people don’t take me seriously when I have my kid with me,” he snarled, Quatre trying to get out of his grasp, “but he’s not here with me right now, and I feel pissed off enough to kick your stupid homo ass for teaching him that fucking shit!”
“Hey, what the fuck happened to your kid is your fucking fault, dick face!” Quatre snarled, bringing up his arm and dislodging his grip. “Pay a fucking babysitter to pay attention to your kid, shit head! You should be thanking me for watching him when no one else couldn’t!”
“He has a new vocabulary, thanks to you, motherfucker!”
“Oh, wow, all thanks to me!” Quatre said sarcastically. “You’re the one cussing me out, here! What makes you think he hasn’t learned from you!?”
“BECAUSE,” Jake growled, his face drawing close to his, and Quatre found an odd reason to draw back with uncertainty, “when his mother asked him to share his juice with her, he told her he couldn’t because he was a homo and had germs.”
Quatre stared at him in disbelief, sputtered, then laughed.
“And I KNOW I don’t say that shit!! And Passage said last night that you’re a fucking queer!!”
“Well, now, you won’t have to worry about him making babies,” Quatre snickered, patting his shoulder reassuredly. Jake swept his hand off his shoulder with a furious growl.
“Do you know how much shit I’m going to get from her family because of that comment?!”
“Well, no. I don’t even KNOW you. And frankly, shit-face, I don’t care. Now, get out of my face. It’s not my fault you’re a parental fuck-up,” Quatre muttered, pushing past him. Jake grabbed his shoulder and slammed him back against the wall. Quatre looked at him in surprise. “Ow!”
“Stay away from my kid, you got it?!”
“Tell your kid to stay away from me!” he snarled. He pushed at Jake, causing the other to stumble back. “And back off!”
“You little shit, you’re just asking to get your fucking ass kicked---!”
“Take it out on the court, you stupid loser!”
“I’m going to fuck you over, you fucking homo!”
“Let’s do it, then, parental fuck-up!”
As they scuffled, drawing an interested group of smokers, the cafeteria doors opened, and Michael, along with his mother, walked out. The blond swept her head from side to side, looking infinitely pissed, while the little boy immediately caught sight of them both. Once he saw them fighting, through, he drew a deep breath, and began to wail loudly.
“JAKE!” the young woman shouted fiercely, hurrying over. “Jake, you fucking dick! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
“DAAAADDDDYYYYY!” Michael wailed, running over, shoving himself between the two. The two instantly stopped fighting, and Michael looked up at his father, teary eyed as the blond girl slapped the back of Jake’s head.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” she screeched. She looked at Quatre furiously. “What the fuck’s your problem, fucker?!”
“He---!”
“Stop it!” Michael screamed, covering his ears as both boys tried to explain their actions. “Stop fighting!”
“Why do you do this?! God, you fucking loser!” The blond screeched at Jake, her thin body vibrating with fury. “This isn’t teaching Michael anything! You’re encouraging him to be fucked up! You’re fucking him up! You’re making him into you!”
“Hey, watch your language, Celia,” Jake muttered, bending to pick up and hug his son as he glared at Quatre furiously. Quatre straightened his shirt with a huff, glaring right back.
“Fuck that bullshit! What he learns he learns from you! Stupid deadbeat prick! Stupid fifth year shit! Stupid, stupid, stupid! Fucking grow-up! GROW-UP to be a man, for once! Men don’t fight each other over stupid things! You fucked up my life with your stupid shit!” she continued to scream, hitting his arm.
Quatre stepped back, blinking as the two parents started to fight, Michael growing agitated as he set his arms between them, pleading in a small way to get them to stop fighting. It disturbed him, in a way that reminded him of his own fight with his father last year.
Kids Michael’s age shouldn’t be seeing this sort of thing, he thought, looking at the little boy as he tried hard to separate them. It was fairly obvious that they did this all the time. The tension between them was incredible, and Michael was in the middle of it all. Quatre reached in, snatching Michael away from Jake and walked away with him. Michael hiccupped loudly, looking at him in surprise as the two parents looked after him in disbelief.
“Here, I’ll buy you some candy,” Quatre muttered, shoving his way into the cafeteria.
“Where the fuck are you going with my kid?!” he heard Celia shriek.
“Oi, there you are!” Felicia shouted with glee, moving to embrace him when she realized that he was holding Michael. She promptly fell to the ground with a startled sound.
Michael looked back at her, laughing, even as he wiped his tears from his face. “Ha! Ha! Stupid bitch!”
“Don’t talk like that,” Quatre said, in an uncertain way as several people looked in their direction. They especially glared at him for the little boy’s curious vocabulary.
Felicia rose from the floor, dusting herself off as she ignored the laughing child and looked at Quatre curiously.
“You adopting, man?” she asked curiously as Jake slammed his way into the cafeteria, looking for them. “Where’s the other father–? Oh, hey man! What’s uppers?!”
“What the fu–what are you doing with my kid?!” he growled as Celia barged in after him.
“Stop it, daddy!” Michael shouted, lips trembling once more as Celia hurried over, furious look on her face.
“Give him to me!” she demanded, pulling at Michael’s arm. He promptly began screaming, pulling back. Everyone turned to look in their direction at the loud disturbance.
Quatre reached over and knocked her hand off his arm.
“What the fuck?!” she cried, stamping her foot, looking thoroughly humiliated as she noticed people were looking their way. She ducked so that her hair was half covering her face, which burned red with her embarrassment. She hoped her friends didn’t see this.
“You guys have got to calm yourselves down!” Quatre hissed, holding Michael tightly. “You’re making him cry!”
“You have no right to---!”
“Wow, Quat, you can be a daddy!” Felicia exclaimed, looking at him in a new light. She clapped her hands excitedly, happy to be involved in an incident and for witnessing something utterly profound. She couldn’t wait to brag about this moment to those that would listen to her.
“Fuck you, bitch!” Celia snarled at her. Felicia cowered, but then laughed in delight. She loved being threatened.
“Stop it, Celia!” Michael cried.
“Winner, that’s my kid---!” Jake started in a flustered growl, furiously growing red as more people began looking in their direction.
“Man, I know what it’s like to be caught in this bullshit, and it fucking sucks that you’re doing it to him,” Quatre snarled at them both, Michael looking at him sharply. “Go do your thing outside, and come back when you’re fucking calm!”
“You can’t TELL me what to do!” Celia screeched, her face turning extremely red.
Jake opened his mouth to protest, then looked at Michael, who was staring at him curiously. The line inched forward, and he gave a small grunt of annoyance. Pulling out his wallet, he handed Quatre five dollars, then turned to Celia, dragging her out of the cafeteria by her arm.
Felicia stared at Quatre with an obviously praising expression. Wiping away fake tears, she said, “Ooh, you make me soooo proud! And here, I thought the others were lying when they said you had a kid.”
“Don’t even start, damn you. Here, get down. You’re heavy.”
“NO!”
“Fine, fine.”
“He’s got you wrapped around his pudgy little finger...aw, SHIT! You know how fucking warm and tingly this makes me?!” Felicia exclaimed, hands on her chest. “It makes me wanna have your kids!”
“Go to hell!”
Michael looked at her curiously as she cackled in glee, wrapping one arm around Quatre’s shoulders as the blond steamed, face slowly reddening as more people glanced over in their direction. Every now and then, he heard the rising shrieks of that college girl from outside, and had to wince. Michael heard it as well, glancing in that direction, thoughtfully flubbing his own lip as he patiently waited for this promised candy.
When it came to their turn, Quatre pointed out the candy selection, and Mike chose carefully, buying a handful of licorice rather than one candy bar. Quatre bought himself another Gatorade and a bottle of water at Felicia’s suggestion for the little boy.
“Jake’s probably so pissed at you, eh?” she asked, scowling at Michael when the kid whapped her one with his licorice. “Giving him sugar? Taking over on his kid? Damn it. He probably won’t look at you another way. I had such high hopes.”
“He’s a homo,” Michael said seriously, a parent gasping in horror as she heard this. Michael looked over curiously while Quatre sneaked a glare at the woman and pulled Michael away from the window.
“I don’t know why I did that,” he said, glancing toward the doors. “It’s just that...it reminded me of my dad and all. And he’s just four years old, Felicia. That’s fucking rough shit.”
“They’re the ones havin’ a baby when they were freshmen. That’s their damn fault,” Felicia muttered, sidestepping the little boy when he tried kicking her ankle. “What happens to him is their fault.”
“Yeah, but...still. It made me feel...odd. Sit down right here and eat your licorice,” Quatre then said, pointing at the bench. “Your parents should be back in a little while.”
Felicia watched with some admiration as Michael did as he said. Her mouth formed a small ‘o’, eyes wide as she sat at the edge of the table. Hope blossomed within her, and she crossed her arms over her chest, grinning impishly. “You know...Jake likes it when people are able to help him out with his kid...”
“KNOCK IT OFF!!”
“What?! Geez, I’m just saying. Yeah, he and Celia have joint custody, but Celia’s a whore, man.”
“Don’t talk that way about his mom in front of him!” Quatre snapped, ripping at the lid of his Gatorade.
“Sorry, little dude. Don’t take me seriously, all right?”
“Shut the fuck up, dick hole,” Michael snarled at her, making her wince.
“Eek! He’s got your accent down pat! He’ll make you a proud stepfather!”
“Felicia, if you’re just going to keep on talking shit–!”
“Fine, fine...look, I’m just saying. Jake has it rough, all right? This is, like, the first time I’d seen the whor–ho-er, chick in a long time. She don’t do much with him. It’s like she ain’t got the maternal instincts, ya know? So Jake raises him. I heard they broke up last year, and this situation started. C’mon, he’s actually a hella cool dude once you get to know him,” she continued, eyeing the doors. “I mean, if he was able to get Hautta talkin’ more with just a few grunts and enraged shouts, he’s really neat.”
“I love my dad,” Michael told Quatre, who nodded with disinterest.
“Besides,” she added, stealing one of Michael’s licorice, and hiding it behind her back when he looked at her, “you need someone to straighten your ass out. Jake might be able to spank your ass into maturing a little bit. Think of that, my horny little friend.”
“Get the hell away from me, you incompetent matchmaking fiend.”
Felicia snickered, patted Michael on the head, and dropped from the table. “Well, that’s said and done! Just wanted to let ya know! Oh, and the team’s in the locker rooms, gettin’ ready for the game. You’re going to stay and watch Uncle Quatre play, aren’t you?”
“Felicia!”
“Katra.”
“ Yop. Uncle Katra. Say it with me, now. UNC-COLE CATCH-RAH,” Felicia instructed Michael, her city accent coming out strongly with the drawn-out words.
“Uncole catch-rah.” Michael looked at Quatre with a beaming smile, obviously proud of himself.
“FELICIA!”
“Excellente, kid. You got hope for ya yet!” Felicia cackled as she hurried away, shouting at someone she knew.
Quatre glared after her, then looked at Michael as he munched quietly on a rope of licorice. He grinned streaky red teeth at him, then looked away as someone muttered about giving that little kid sugar. Glancing around, Quatre saw that the cafeteria was slowly emptying, and the sounds of the third quarter game entering through the open double doors. He sighed heavily, wanting to go, feeling really awkward with someone’s kid. He didn’t know what to do with one. He had just felt bad for the little guy, upon seeing him cry like that when his parents were fighting around him. He didn’t know he was going to be stuck babysitting him.
“I’m thirsty.”
“Here,” Quatre muttered, opening his bottled water.
“No. I want your drink. I like that one best.”
“This is for my game, kid. I drink this while I play.”
“But I like it! I got your germs, remember?”
“No, you don’t! God, if you repeat that to your father, he’s going to kill me. I don’t want to get killed. Don’t say that kind of shit to him anymore, all right?”
“You can’t beat him up. My daddy’s tough.”
“...I’m sure he is,” Quatre mumbled, rubbing at his arm, where a punch had landed directly. I can still take him, he added thoughtfully.
“My daddy works with cars. We have an apartment. I used to have a cat, but daddy said we couldn’t have her anymore, cuz the old lady got mad.”
“You’re not supposed to have pets in an apartment.”
“I really liked my cat. Her name was Poofy. She didn’t like it when I played with her, though.”
Quatre snorted. “I’ll bet she didn’t. You probably pulled her tail, didn’t you?”
“She scratched me all the time,” Michael added, looking at his arms, rubbing at the skin thoughtfully. He lifted one thin arm to show a series of white scratches. “See?”
“Oh...uh, that’s nice, kid.”
“My daddy says that when we move out, we can get a dog. I like animals. I like to draw. Do you draw?”
“No.”
“I go to school,” Michael then added cheerfully. Then he frowned. “But no one likes me. Daddy says I’m being mean to them.”
“You are.”
“But–Celia says that I have to be because if I don’t, people will be mean to me first.”
“Your mom?”
“I don’t like her. She’s not nice.”
“Huh.”
“My daddy bought me a toy. I couldn’t bring it, though. He said I might lose it.”
“Yup.”
“Celia doesn’t get me anything. I like gramma and grandpa! They buy me cookies. But they’re mean to my daddy...”
“...Uh....”
“One time, at my daddy’s, they made him cry.”
Quatre snickered at the thought of Jake crying. Michael peered at him closely, and he quickly stiffened up, wiping his nose.
“They said he wasn’t good enough. Celia, Celia says that daddy’s a loser. I don’t think he’s a loser. He just tries hard. Daddy loves me. He buys me things, and always lets me watch cartoons. Celia says that cartoons are bad for me, but daddy lets me watch them all the time. And he buys me pizza, too.”
“Sounds like a good daddy,” Quatre muttered, wishing for those two to hurry up with their little spat and come get their kid. Drumming his fingers along his jaw, he slouched in his seat as Michael continued to talk, picking at his licorice all the while.
“And one time, when we were at the park, this boy tried to beat me up because I was playing with his toys? And daddy had to beat up his dad cuz his dad was trying to beat me up. My daddy’s the strongest man in the world.”
Quatre snickered at the innocent praise the child had of his father, then looked serious when Michael looked at him. Quatre asked, “So, how old is your dad?”
“My daddy had to stay in high school for another year,” Michael said thoughtfully. “Grandpa said that he was dumb. I just think that daddy was tired. He’s tired all the time. Sometimes? When I’m tired? I can’t do things. I think he was just tired.”
“Yeah. Sure, kid.”
“My daddy, he–”
At the cafeteria doors opening, Quatre and Michael looked up, Jake walking over, looking murderous. Michael looked around him for his mother, then grinned at his dad.
“C’mon, let’s go home,” Jake commanded, glaring at Quatre furiously.
“I don’t want to, daddy. I wanna stay here.”
“I’ll buy you pizza.”
Michael hesitated briefly on this, then looked at Quatre. The blond nodded furiously, to encourage him to go without protest. Michael then turned to his father, sliding off the bench with a happy laugh.
He really isn’t all that bad, Quatre reflected on the boy, thinking of yesterday’s first meeting with him.
Jake glared at him as he took his son’s hand, then marched off into the gym to retrieve his things. He was still in his game jersey and court shoes.
“You’re totally welcome, man,” Quatre said sarcastically, grabbing his Gatorade and hurrying off toward the gym, to grab his stuff so that he could change. Then he hurried off to the locker room, lest something else happen to stall him along the way.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
The score was set evenly by the second half–Cal-North lacked a senior last year, and they had given Darken’s team a good game, but this year, they had a few new players that weren’t lacking in the skills department. #21 had returned, as well as numbers 76, and 44. Both players looked impossibly bigger, including #44, who, in Quatre’s opinion, resembled a redheaded bull. Her shoulders were wide, her arms meaty with muscle, and her frame outweighing him by nearly a hundred pounds. She wasn’t fat in a sense–she was just a girl packed with muscle and bones that were too big for a girl.
“Daaaammmmnnn,” Felicia had muttered upon seeing her. She’d then grinned and pointed. “I got her! I claim her for my master!”
“She’ll crush you, Passage!” Paul had laughed, looking from the redhead to Felicia.
“I like being dominated! She’ll teach me a thing or two!”
The guys had cracked up and she added a few lesbian references that had made Quatre wonder if she were truly a closeted lesbian.
Right now, on the court, Felicia was true to her word as she clung to #44 with all the tenacity bleach had on darks. The redhead was slowly getting irritated with the smaller girl, and it was obvious as she fumbled in her dribbling. All the while, Felicia was grinning like an idiot, and probably talking shit while she was at it.
Not my fault if she gets her ass kicked, Quatre thought, dribbling the ball down the court from an inbounds pass. #21 was moving with him, his feet moving skillfully as he kept an eye out for screens and for opportunities. Quatre lowered his shoulders, moving quickly forward as he saw that his team was setting up for an offensive maneuver. He flung the ball in Duo’s direction, the shooting guard pivoting, dribbling quickly to the left side of the basket, then flinging it out to Triton, who made an easy inside shot.
“Pull a full court press!” Quatre shouted at the others as he hurried over to #23, who was passing it in. She hesitated when she saw him moving up to her, then made a desperate bounce pass to #21, who had to leap high to catch it. Quatre darted after him, getting all up into his face as he cornered the player against the sideline. #21 quickly passed it out, but it was intercepted by Paul, who made a quick lay-up.
“C’mon!!” #21 shouted at #23, who cowered with an apology.
Quatre glanced at the scoreboard, happy that they were inching out of the tie. He saw that #23 was passing in once more, and raced over to distract her, waving his arms about, keeping his face in her line of vision. She tossed the ball over his head, but Duo was there to catch the ball, and made another easy shot.
#21 took over the job with a frustrated snarl, #23 moving onto the court with a signal directed at her coach to take her out. Quatre focused on #21, doing the same thing to him as he’d done with #23, and turned around when he made the pass in. #45 took the ball, dribbled easily from Duo’s reach, then passed by to #21. Quatre caught up with him, running alongside him as they made their way down to Cal-North’s end of the court. He reached in, pinching his jersey, catching skin as #21 was forced to pull up to give his teammates a time to set up.
#21 elbowed him sharply, but that wasn’t enough to push Quatre away from his defensive measure. He crowded against #21, arms up, giving him a tough time as the dark haired boy looked frantically for a person to pass to. #23 swept in, taking the ball, and passed it quickly to #44. Felicia was all over her, shouting the “ball, ball, ball” chant as her hands moved from this way to that, reaching for the ball in a legal manner. #44 dropped her meaty shoulder and plowed past the smaller girl, driving toward the basket. Triton and Paul moved in to intercept, but the girl put the ball up easily, drawing out jeers from the audience as the girl made two points.
“What the hell, Passage!” Triton barked at Felicia.
“What?! She used her lesbian wiles on me and distracted me!” came the protest.
“Fuck you, bitch!” #44 bellowed at her, obviously used to such comments, but not taking them lightly.
“Well, you did. I was frightened of your dominance.”
“I’ll kick your ass off court!”
“Cool it, ladies,” one of the refs muttered around his whistle as Triton passed the ball to Paul, who passed it to Quatre.
They headed down court, Quatre watching as Triton took his usual post under the basket, Paul moved around on the right, and Duo and Felicia were up the key, waiting. He gave a signal, waving his hand vertically over his head, and the team moved quickly–Triton popped out from the key, while Paul took his place; Felicia moved in while Duo moved out for a screen. Quatre moved quickly around #21 as he hit Duo’s screen, and passed to Felicia. She dribbled out to the left of the key and hurled it at Triton, who faked a three point shot, then passed it inbounds to Quatre, who’d cut through the middle and made a simple bank shot.
At the cheers from the crowd, Quatre glanced around, looking for Trowa. He said he wouldn’t come, but then again, he was here yesterday. He then returned his attention to #44, who was taking the ball out, and moved to distract her. She passed it in without trouble, and lumbered past him, making him wince at the onion smell that wafted from her. In possession of the ball, #21 began driving toward his end of the court, Quatre close on his tail.
Careful not to cause a reach, he moved alongside the player, noting that Cal-North was setting up for a maneuver. #44's frame caused him to slam short, #21 moving around them, passing to #76, who passed immediately out to #23, who made a jump shot from just inside the three point line. The ball bounced off the rim, Triton rebounding with ease, cradling the ball against his chest and arms as #76 attempted to take it.
As Cal-North shifted down court for defense, #21 stayed up top as Triton passed the ball to Quatre, who glanced at his players as they moved down court. #21 engaged him briefly in a battle for the ball, and someone’s hand, Quatre wasn’t sure whose, caused the ball to bounce away from them. Felicia picked up the fumble, and hurriedly made the shot–into Cal-North’s goal.
“PASSAGE!” Quatre screamed at her as shouts caused the noise level in the gym to rise.
Realizing what she’d just done, Felicia reddened to an unhealthy shade, looking absolutely horrified at what she’d done.
“Wrong basket, numb nut!!” Paul bellowed from their end of the court.
“Hey, thanks, man,” #21 said to her, grinning.
Felicia looked entirely lost as she turned to Ramos, signaling that she wanted out. Quatre wanted to kick her for making that mistake, and she was replaced by Mariemaia while Darken’s crowd screamed at her.
“Wrong way, Passage!” someone shouted from the stands, and there was just something about the words that made it seem wrong. Others caught up on it, and began to chant, “Wrong way Pas-sage! Wrong way Pas-sage!”
This only intensified her mortification, and she drew a towel over her head, hiding her face from all that looked at her.
Quatre shook his head, and returned his focus on the game, vowing to beat her up later for that. Mariemaia swept by him, immediately attacking the inbounds pass, and received possession of the ball. She passed it to Quatre, who then turned to move down court. He saw Duo was wide open, so he passed to him, instructing the frosh to take over on #21 while he watched #44, simply because of height and control factor.
Mariemaia moved in quick, sticking to #21 like glue while Quatre battled awful onion scent and a meaty shoulder prodding at his back.
He caught the pass at one instant, and made a wide hook shot. The ball bounced off the rim, with #76 rebounding. Triton immediately snagged the ball from his hand, and put it back up. The ball bounced over the rim, causing players to shuffle about in an effort to gain possession over the ball. After a short battle, Quatre was once again in possession, and he set himself up for a three, taking his time as #44 lunged at him. He made the shot, glancing up at the scoreboard to see that they were still ahead.
This sort of play continued until half-time was called.
In the locker room, everyone was giving Felicia a hard time for making a basket for the other team.
“Cut it out, you guys!” she wailed. “I got confused!”
“Your ‘confusion’ is going to mess up our team strategy, Passage,” Ramos snarled. “You’ve only got six point at this time. Kushrenada has about nine, and she’s a freshman.”
“‘And she’s a freshmen’,” Felicia mimicked under her breath, glaring at the redhead that glowed with the praise.
“Well,” Ramos began, blinking at them. “You guys are doing well, so far. Maxwell, you have over twenty points. Winner, you’ve got seventeen. Step it up a little. Yuy, you’ve got ten in the last quarter. Minogue, you’ve got twelve. Kushrenada, you’ve got nine. Passage...I’m not counting those points for the team, but you’ve got only six. You’re disappointing me.”
Felicia muttered something under her breath, glaring at him.
“All in all, we’re doing well. Just step up your game, guys...and, er, girls. Give them something to work hard against. It’s like the lot of you are just out there just to be out there. It’s really pissing me off. You’re all slacking in the intensity department. I threatened yesterday to make practice harder, and it looks like that’s what I have to do.”
“Aw, coach, go easy on us!” Triton complained. “There are people bustin’ ass out there!”
“And you’re not one of them!”
“I’m just saying, there are people busting ass. I’m not saying I am–”
“Ha! So you admit in not trying?”
“Er, no, I just–”
“Shut it, Bloom!” Duo yelled from his bench. “People are covering for your mistakes all the fuckin’ time!”
“Like me,” Otto grumbled. “I hate picking up slackers’ work!”
“HEY! I’m playin’ hard out there!”
“You’ve only got five points,” Ramos reminded him on a bored drawl, fiddling with his playboard.
“Well...defensively I’m kicking ass...”
Quatre snorted as he contemplated his jiggling knee. He was sitting on a bench, slouching with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’ve noticed a little lagging when it comes to #44.”
“Hey! I don’t see you pushing her around under the basket!”
“She’s manly, man!” Brian declared, hitting Felicia with the back of one hand. “More so than you!”
“THANK you, you Dolt.”
“Shut up.”
“Then quit fucking around with me. Dolt.”
“You’d better–!”
“And, Passage, no helping out with the other team,” Ramos said on a sigh. He waved the team at the doors. “Get out of my sight. All of you. Shoot some baskets.”
The team, making their own noises of discontent and comments, made their way out the door.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
They’d won that game, pulling up from 89 to a 102, and Quatre felt disappointed that he hadn’t seen Trowa there tonight. Back at his room, after he’d put his things away and got them ready for tomorrow’s eight a.m. exodus back to Roseville to finish the tourney, he made sure his homework was completed for Monday and flopped onto his bed. Staring sullenly at the floor, he wondered if he and Trowa were ever going to go back to the terms they’d held before...Trowa was his first real relationship, and he definitely missed the boy...but then again, when it came back to certain issues, he’d rather not bother with him at all.
His conflicts continued to confuse him, and he thought about them at length, wrinkling his forehead with his misery. He spied the VCR and the twenty-four inch screen, and scowled at them as he sat up on his bed.
He considered going to Felicia’s room to ask if she had any movies, but she was pissed at him for calling her “Wrong Way Passage” at Taco Bell earlier, and had threatened to castrate him if he came near her.
Bored, despite the upcoming curfew at eleven, Quatre flopped back on his bed.
He was considering masturbation when someone knocked on his door. He got up and walked over, opening it to reveal no one there. He glanced at the speakerpad located just below the keypad, and called out, but the security guard didn’t answer him.
He looked down at his feet when something caught his eye, and saw a pretty package sitting there.
He nudged it with his foot, eyeing it with suspicion. Ramos had told him to inform security about any other odd and suspicious things, and this was certainly one of them. So he rang Lowell, the downstairs security guard, and waited for the friendly black man to come up.
Lowell took the package, listened to Quatre’s explanation why he was refusing it, and nodded before leaving, to give it to the top dogs of Darken’s security task force.
After that, Quatre walked back into his room, wondering if Trowa was interested in break-up sex when his phone rang. Uncomfortably irritated at his horniness, he had a fleeting thought of wondering what Triton Bloom was doing, and considered the notion of taking him as a fuck buddy. Hell, there was no feelings involved, and it was obvious what Triton wanted and what Quatre wanted, and there’d be no complications...
He picked up his cell, glancing at his window at the private name, private number, and answered it cautiously.
“..Is this...Winner?”
He frowned at the unfamiliar voice. “Yeah. What?”
“Hey. This is Jake. Look, I just wanted to apologize for that shit today...”
“Enter Sandman” Metallica
Jake hurried over after the congratulatory lines had dissipated, a furious expression on his face. Michael saw this, and huddled close to Quatre for protection. Quatre heard the sounds of laughter from his teammates once more, and felt his blood boiling. He was going to make every last one of them suffer for this humiliation.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Jake snarled at him, looking wholly infuriated.
“What?! What the fuck are you getting mad at me for?!” Quatre exclaimed, Michael looking on in interest at the words.
“I’m trying to raise him right! And you’re fucking---excuse me---messing things up! He copies what other people do!”
Quatre snorted, glaring at him and stiffening at the accusation that Michael’s copycat mannerisms were all his fault. “Well then. You’d better not let him catch you and your woman doing the dirty, or you’ll find yourself a grandpappy at twenty-five.”
Jake’s face turned a curious shade of purple red, Michael’s eyes widening as he watched his father closely. Noticing this, it took Jake considerable effort to turn away from Quatre, and face him. Michael looked at Quatre with an uncertain expression, while the blond remained smug with his last comment.
“Where’s your fu---your mother?” Jake ground out.
“She’s with Andrea and Cindy, daddy. She wouldn’t listen to me,” Michael reported gravely, the very picture of innocence. Quatre, ever the smug bastard that he tried to be when wanting to piss someone off, gave a similar expression and nodded gravely. A tic developed in Jake’s left eye, and that same curious color returned to his face.
“I tried telling her that I was thirsty, and she wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Why?!”
“I don’t know, daddy. She was talking with her friends. I tried telling her, daddy. But I was real thirsty.”
“Well, I’ll buy you something to drink, then,” Jake said gruffly, holding his hand out so he could assist Michael off the bench. He glared at Quatre, who smiled and waved, relieved that his babysitting efforts were being dismissed. “I’ll talk to you later, fucker.”
“Ooh, Daddy, you cussed. Are you really mad?”
“Not at you, son.”
“Bye!” Michael said to Quatre, waving cheerfully. Quatre managed a tight smile, then watched the two walk away, heading toward the cafeteria. Triton once again sat near him, obviously suppressing his laughter. Quatre turned his murderous expression to him, wondering if he could get away with a scrotum buster in front of all these people.
“Where’s the nanny taking your kid, Quat? Shouldn’t you be supervising? You know what they say if the nanny has the kids all the time---!”
“They turn out like you! Fuck you, Triton, you scummy whore! He’s not my kid! I don’t even know the kid! I don’t even know his fucking father!” Quatre snarled viciously.
Triton snorted, rubbing his hands together. “Okay, okay, I won’t fuck around with you, anymore. Shit, you take things so damn personally…”
“Fuck you, asshole.””Maybe it’ll be the other way around someday, eh?”
“There’s no way I’m letting you on my ass, motherfucker…”
Triton laughed, slapped his shoulder, and walked back to the others.
Quatre scowled at all of them, earning more laughter in his direction. Pouting that he was the brunt of their jokes due to Michael’s presence, he crossed his arms over his chest and stared sullenly at the next pair of teams that took the court.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
At halftime of Apollo Prestigious against Balkin Public, Quatre wandered into the cafeteria to find another Gatorade, and waited patiently in line. He had just taken out his cell phone and was prepared to try and call Justin when someone curled their hand within his shirt, jerked him out of line, and forcefully pulled him out from the cafeteria. He was wholly surprised, caught off guard as he found himself stumbling on the sidewalk, hitting the wall for balance.
“What the fuck--?!” he shouted, turning around.
Jake advanced on him, looking entirely furious as he grabbed his shirt, and shoved him against the wall.
“I realize people don’t take me seriously when I have my kid with me,” he snarled, Quatre trying to get out of his grasp, “but he’s not here with me right now, and I feel pissed off enough to kick your stupid homo ass for teaching him that fucking shit!”
“Hey, what the fuck happened to your kid is your fucking fault, dick face!” Quatre snarled, bringing up his arm and dislodging his grip. “Pay a fucking babysitter to pay attention to your kid, shit head! You should be thanking me for watching him when no one else couldn’t!”
“He has a new vocabulary, thanks to you, motherfucker!”
“Oh, wow, all thanks to me!” Quatre said sarcastically. “You’re the one cussing me out, here! What makes you think he hasn’t learned from you!?”
“BECAUSE,” Jake growled, his face drawing close to his, and Quatre found an odd reason to draw back with uncertainty, “when his mother asked him to share his juice with her, he told her he couldn’t because he was a homo and had germs.”
Quatre stared at him in disbelief, sputtered, then laughed.
“And I KNOW I don’t say that shit!! And Passage said last night that you’re a fucking queer!!”
“Well, now, you won’t have to worry about him making babies,” Quatre snickered, patting his shoulder reassuredly. Jake swept his hand off his shoulder with a furious growl.
“Do you know how much shit I’m going to get from her family because of that comment?!”
“Well, no. I don’t even KNOW you. And frankly, shit-face, I don’t care. Now, get out of my face. It’s not my fault you’re a parental fuck-up,” Quatre muttered, pushing past him. Jake grabbed his shoulder and slammed him back against the wall. Quatre looked at him in surprise. “Ow!”
“Stay away from my kid, you got it?!”
“Tell your kid to stay away from me!” he snarled. He pushed at Jake, causing the other to stumble back. “And back off!”
“You little shit, you’re just asking to get your fucking ass kicked---!”
“Take it out on the court, you stupid loser!”
“I’m going to fuck you over, you fucking homo!”
“Let’s do it, then, parental fuck-up!”
As they scuffled, drawing an interested group of smokers, the cafeteria doors opened, and Michael, along with his mother, walked out. The blond swept her head from side to side, looking infinitely pissed, while the little boy immediately caught sight of them both. Once he saw them fighting, through, he drew a deep breath, and began to wail loudly.
“JAKE!” the young woman shouted fiercely, hurrying over. “Jake, you fucking dick! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
“DAAAADDDDYYYYY!” Michael wailed, running over, shoving himself between the two. The two instantly stopped fighting, and Michael looked up at his father, teary eyed as the blond girl slapped the back of Jake’s head.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” she screeched. She looked at Quatre furiously. “What the fuck’s your problem, fucker?!”
“He---!”
“Stop it!” Michael screamed, covering his ears as both boys tried to explain their actions. “Stop fighting!”
“Why do you do this?! God, you fucking loser!” The blond screeched at Jake, her thin body vibrating with fury. “This isn’t teaching Michael anything! You’re encouraging him to be fucked up! You’re fucking him up! You’re making him into you!”
“Hey, watch your language, Celia,” Jake muttered, bending to pick up and hug his son as he glared at Quatre furiously. Quatre straightened his shirt with a huff, glaring right back.
“Fuck that bullshit! What he learns he learns from you! Stupid deadbeat prick! Stupid fifth year shit! Stupid, stupid, stupid! Fucking grow-up! GROW-UP to be a man, for once! Men don’t fight each other over stupid things! You fucked up my life with your stupid shit!” she continued to scream, hitting his arm.
Quatre stepped back, blinking as the two parents started to fight, Michael growing agitated as he set his arms between them, pleading in a small way to get them to stop fighting. It disturbed him, in a way that reminded him of his own fight with his father last year.
Kids Michael’s age shouldn’t be seeing this sort of thing, he thought, looking at the little boy as he tried hard to separate them. It was fairly obvious that they did this all the time. The tension between them was incredible, and Michael was in the middle of it all. Quatre reached in, snatching Michael away from Jake and walked away with him. Michael hiccupped loudly, looking at him in surprise as the two parents looked after him in disbelief.
“Here, I’ll buy you some candy,” Quatre muttered, shoving his way into the cafeteria.
“Where the fuck are you going with my kid?!” he heard Celia shriek.
“Oi, there you are!” Felicia shouted with glee, moving to embrace him when she realized that he was holding Michael. She promptly fell to the ground with a startled sound.
Michael looked back at her, laughing, even as he wiped his tears from his face. “Ha! Ha! Stupid bitch!”
“Don’t talk like that,” Quatre said, in an uncertain way as several people looked in their direction. They especially glared at him for the little boy’s curious vocabulary.
Felicia rose from the floor, dusting herself off as she ignored the laughing child and looked at Quatre curiously.
“You adopting, man?” she asked curiously as Jake slammed his way into the cafeteria, looking for them. “Where’s the other father–? Oh, hey man! What’s uppers?!”
“What the fu–what are you doing with my kid?!” he growled as Celia barged in after him.
“Stop it, daddy!” Michael shouted, lips trembling once more as Celia hurried over, furious look on her face.
“Give him to me!” she demanded, pulling at Michael’s arm. He promptly began screaming, pulling back. Everyone turned to look in their direction at the loud disturbance.
Quatre reached over and knocked her hand off his arm.
“What the fuck?!” she cried, stamping her foot, looking thoroughly humiliated as she noticed people were looking their way. She ducked so that her hair was half covering her face, which burned red with her embarrassment. She hoped her friends didn’t see this.
“You guys have got to calm yourselves down!” Quatre hissed, holding Michael tightly. “You’re making him cry!”
“You have no right to---!”
“Wow, Quat, you can be a daddy!” Felicia exclaimed, looking at him in a new light. She clapped her hands excitedly, happy to be involved in an incident and for witnessing something utterly profound. She couldn’t wait to brag about this moment to those that would listen to her.
“Fuck you, bitch!” Celia snarled at her. Felicia cowered, but then laughed in delight. She loved being threatened.
“Stop it, Celia!” Michael cried.
“Winner, that’s my kid---!” Jake started in a flustered growl, furiously growing red as more people began looking in their direction.
“Man, I know what it’s like to be caught in this bullshit, and it fucking sucks that you’re doing it to him,” Quatre snarled at them both, Michael looking at him sharply. “Go do your thing outside, and come back when you’re fucking calm!”
“You can’t TELL me what to do!” Celia screeched, her face turning extremely red.
Jake opened his mouth to protest, then looked at Michael, who was staring at him curiously. The line inched forward, and he gave a small grunt of annoyance. Pulling out his wallet, he handed Quatre five dollars, then turned to Celia, dragging her out of the cafeteria by her arm.
Felicia stared at Quatre with an obviously praising expression. Wiping away fake tears, she said, “Ooh, you make me soooo proud! And here, I thought the others were lying when they said you had a kid.”
“Don’t even start, damn you. Here, get down. You’re heavy.”
“NO!”
“Fine, fine.”
“He’s got you wrapped around his pudgy little finger...aw, SHIT! You know how fucking warm and tingly this makes me?!” Felicia exclaimed, hands on her chest. “It makes me wanna have your kids!”
“Go to hell!”
Michael looked at her curiously as she cackled in glee, wrapping one arm around Quatre’s shoulders as the blond steamed, face slowly reddening as more people glanced over in their direction. Every now and then, he heard the rising shrieks of that college girl from outside, and had to wince. Michael heard it as well, glancing in that direction, thoughtfully flubbing his own lip as he patiently waited for this promised candy.
When it came to their turn, Quatre pointed out the candy selection, and Mike chose carefully, buying a handful of licorice rather than one candy bar. Quatre bought himself another Gatorade and a bottle of water at Felicia’s suggestion for the little boy.
“Jake’s probably so pissed at you, eh?” she asked, scowling at Michael when the kid whapped her one with his licorice. “Giving him sugar? Taking over on his kid? Damn it. He probably won’t look at you another way. I had such high hopes.”
“He’s a homo,” Michael said seriously, a parent gasping in horror as she heard this. Michael looked over curiously while Quatre sneaked a glare at the woman and pulled Michael away from the window.
“I don’t know why I did that,” he said, glancing toward the doors. “It’s just that...it reminded me of my dad and all. And he’s just four years old, Felicia. That’s fucking rough shit.”
“They’re the ones havin’ a baby when they were freshmen. That’s their damn fault,” Felicia muttered, sidestepping the little boy when he tried kicking her ankle. “What happens to him is their fault.”
“Yeah, but...still. It made me feel...odd. Sit down right here and eat your licorice,” Quatre then said, pointing at the bench. “Your parents should be back in a little while.”
Felicia watched with some admiration as Michael did as he said. Her mouth formed a small ‘o’, eyes wide as she sat at the edge of the table. Hope blossomed within her, and she crossed her arms over her chest, grinning impishly. “You know...Jake likes it when people are able to help him out with his kid...”
“KNOCK IT OFF!!”
“What?! Geez, I’m just saying. Yeah, he and Celia have joint custody, but Celia’s a whore, man.”
“Don’t talk that way about his mom in front of him!” Quatre snapped, ripping at the lid of his Gatorade.
“Sorry, little dude. Don’t take me seriously, all right?”
“Shut the fuck up, dick hole,” Michael snarled at her, making her wince.
“Eek! He’s got your accent down pat! He’ll make you a proud stepfather!”
“Felicia, if you’re just going to keep on talking shit–!”
“Fine, fine...look, I’m just saying. Jake has it rough, all right? This is, like, the first time I’d seen the whor–ho-er, chick in a long time. She don’t do much with him. It’s like she ain’t got the maternal instincts, ya know? So Jake raises him. I heard they broke up last year, and this situation started. C’mon, he’s actually a hella cool dude once you get to know him,” she continued, eyeing the doors. “I mean, if he was able to get Hautta talkin’ more with just a few grunts and enraged shouts, he’s really neat.”
“I love my dad,” Michael told Quatre, who nodded with disinterest.
“Besides,” she added, stealing one of Michael’s licorice, and hiding it behind her back when he looked at her, “you need someone to straighten your ass out. Jake might be able to spank your ass into maturing a little bit. Think of that, my horny little friend.”
“Get the hell away from me, you incompetent matchmaking fiend.”
Felicia snickered, patted Michael on the head, and dropped from the table. “Well, that’s said and done! Just wanted to let ya know! Oh, and the team’s in the locker rooms, gettin’ ready for the game. You’re going to stay and watch Uncle Quatre play, aren’t you?”
“Felicia!”
“Katra.”
“ Yop. Uncle Katra. Say it with me, now. UNC-COLE CATCH-RAH,” Felicia instructed Michael, her city accent coming out strongly with the drawn-out words.
“Uncole catch-rah.” Michael looked at Quatre with a beaming smile, obviously proud of himself.
“FELICIA!”
“Excellente, kid. You got hope for ya yet!” Felicia cackled as she hurried away, shouting at someone she knew.
Quatre glared after her, then looked at Michael as he munched quietly on a rope of licorice. He grinned streaky red teeth at him, then looked away as someone muttered about giving that little kid sugar. Glancing around, Quatre saw that the cafeteria was slowly emptying, and the sounds of the third quarter game entering through the open double doors. He sighed heavily, wanting to go, feeling really awkward with someone’s kid. He didn’t know what to do with one. He had just felt bad for the little guy, upon seeing him cry like that when his parents were fighting around him. He didn’t know he was going to be stuck babysitting him.
“I’m thirsty.”
“Here,” Quatre muttered, opening his bottled water.
“No. I want your drink. I like that one best.”
“This is for my game, kid. I drink this while I play.”
“But I like it! I got your germs, remember?”
“No, you don’t! God, if you repeat that to your father, he’s going to kill me. I don’t want to get killed. Don’t say that kind of shit to him anymore, all right?”
“You can’t beat him up. My daddy’s tough.”
“...I’m sure he is,” Quatre mumbled, rubbing at his arm, where a punch had landed directly. I can still take him, he added thoughtfully.
“My daddy works with cars. We have an apartment. I used to have a cat, but daddy said we couldn’t have her anymore, cuz the old lady got mad.”
“You’re not supposed to have pets in an apartment.”
“I really liked my cat. Her name was Poofy. She didn’t like it when I played with her, though.”
Quatre snorted. “I’ll bet she didn’t. You probably pulled her tail, didn’t you?”
“She scratched me all the time,” Michael added, looking at his arms, rubbing at the skin thoughtfully. He lifted one thin arm to show a series of white scratches. “See?”
“Oh...uh, that’s nice, kid.”
“My daddy says that when we move out, we can get a dog. I like animals. I like to draw. Do you draw?”
“No.”
“I go to school,” Michael then added cheerfully. Then he frowned. “But no one likes me. Daddy says I’m being mean to them.”
“You are.”
“But–Celia says that I have to be because if I don’t, people will be mean to me first.”
“Your mom?”
“I don’t like her. She’s not nice.”
“Huh.”
“My daddy bought me a toy. I couldn’t bring it, though. He said I might lose it.”
“Yup.”
“Celia doesn’t get me anything. I like gramma and grandpa! They buy me cookies. But they’re mean to my daddy...”
“...Uh....”
“One time, at my daddy’s, they made him cry.”
Quatre snickered at the thought of Jake crying. Michael peered at him closely, and he quickly stiffened up, wiping his nose.
“They said he wasn’t good enough. Celia, Celia says that daddy’s a loser. I don’t think he’s a loser. He just tries hard. Daddy loves me. He buys me things, and always lets me watch cartoons. Celia says that cartoons are bad for me, but daddy lets me watch them all the time. And he buys me pizza, too.”
“Sounds like a good daddy,” Quatre muttered, wishing for those two to hurry up with their little spat and come get their kid. Drumming his fingers along his jaw, he slouched in his seat as Michael continued to talk, picking at his licorice all the while.
“And one time, when we were at the park, this boy tried to beat me up because I was playing with his toys? And daddy had to beat up his dad cuz his dad was trying to beat me up. My daddy’s the strongest man in the world.”
Quatre snickered at the innocent praise the child had of his father, then looked serious when Michael looked at him. Quatre asked, “So, how old is your dad?”
“My daddy had to stay in high school for another year,” Michael said thoughtfully. “Grandpa said that he was dumb. I just think that daddy was tired. He’s tired all the time. Sometimes? When I’m tired? I can’t do things. I think he was just tired.”
“Yeah. Sure, kid.”
“My daddy, he–”
At the cafeteria doors opening, Quatre and Michael looked up, Jake walking over, looking murderous. Michael looked around him for his mother, then grinned at his dad.
“C’mon, let’s go home,” Jake commanded, glaring at Quatre furiously.
“I don’t want to, daddy. I wanna stay here.”
“I’ll buy you pizza.”
Michael hesitated briefly on this, then looked at Quatre. The blond nodded furiously, to encourage him to go without protest. Michael then turned to his father, sliding off the bench with a happy laugh.
He really isn’t all that bad, Quatre reflected on the boy, thinking of yesterday’s first meeting with him.
Jake glared at him as he took his son’s hand, then marched off into the gym to retrieve his things. He was still in his game jersey and court shoes.
“You’re totally welcome, man,” Quatre said sarcastically, grabbing his Gatorade and hurrying off toward the gym, to grab his stuff so that he could change. Then he hurried off to the locker room, lest something else happen to stall him along the way.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
The score was set evenly by the second half–Cal-North lacked a senior last year, and they had given Darken’s team a good game, but this year, they had a few new players that weren’t lacking in the skills department. #21 had returned, as well as numbers 76, and 44. Both players looked impossibly bigger, including #44, who, in Quatre’s opinion, resembled a redheaded bull. Her shoulders were wide, her arms meaty with muscle, and her frame outweighing him by nearly a hundred pounds. She wasn’t fat in a sense–she was just a girl packed with muscle and bones that were too big for a girl.
“Daaaammmmnnn,” Felicia had muttered upon seeing her. She’d then grinned and pointed. “I got her! I claim her for my master!”
“She’ll crush you, Passage!” Paul had laughed, looking from the redhead to Felicia.
“I like being dominated! She’ll teach me a thing or two!”
The guys had cracked up and she added a few lesbian references that had made Quatre wonder if she were truly a closeted lesbian.
Right now, on the court, Felicia was true to her word as she clung to #44 with all the tenacity bleach had on darks. The redhead was slowly getting irritated with the smaller girl, and it was obvious as she fumbled in her dribbling. All the while, Felicia was grinning like an idiot, and probably talking shit while she was at it.
Not my fault if she gets her ass kicked, Quatre thought, dribbling the ball down the court from an inbounds pass. #21 was moving with him, his feet moving skillfully as he kept an eye out for screens and for opportunities. Quatre lowered his shoulders, moving quickly forward as he saw that his team was setting up for an offensive maneuver. He flung the ball in Duo’s direction, the shooting guard pivoting, dribbling quickly to the left side of the basket, then flinging it out to Triton, who made an easy inside shot.
“Pull a full court press!” Quatre shouted at the others as he hurried over to #23, who was passing it in. She hesitated when she saw him moving up to her, then made a desperate bounce pass to #21, who had to leap high to catch it. Quatre darted after him, getting all up into his face as he cornered the player against the sideline. #21 quickly passed it out, but it was intercepted by Paul, who made a quick lay-up.
“C’mon!!” #21 shouted at #23, who cowered with an apology.
Quatre glanced at the scoreboard, happy that they were inching out of the tie. He saw that #23 was passing in once more, and raced over to distract her, waving his arms about, keeping his face in her line of vision. She tossed the ball over his head, but Duo was there to catch the ball, and made another easy shot.
#21 took over the job with a frustrated snarl, #23 moving onto the court with a signal directed at her coach to take her out. Quatre focused on #21, doing the same thing to him as he’d done with #23, and turned around when he made the pass in. #45 took the ball, dribbled easily from Duo’s reach, then passed by to #21. Quatre caught up with him, running alongside him as they made their way down to Cal-North’s end of the court. He reached in, pinching his jersey, catching skin as #21 was forced to pull up to give his teammates a time to set up.
#21 elbowed him sharply, but that wasn’t enough to push Quatre away from his defensive measure. He crowded against #21, arms up, giving him a tough time as the dark haired boy looked frantically for a person to pass to. #23 swept in, taking the ball, and passed it quickly to #44. Felicia was all over her, shouting the “ball, ball, ball” chant as her hands moved from this way to that, reaching for the ball in a legal manner. #44 dropped her meaty shoulder and plowed past the smaller girl, driving toward the basket. Triton and Paul moved in to intercept, but the girl put the ball up easily, drawing out jeers from the audience as the girl made two points.
“What the hell, Passage!” Triton barked at Felicia.
“What?! She used her lesbian wiles on me and distracted me!” came the protest.
“Fuck you, bitch!” #44 bellowed at her, obviously used to such comments, but not taking them lightly.
“Well, you did. I was frightened of your dominance.”
“I’ll kick your ass off court!”
“Cool it, ladies,” one of the refs muttered around his whistle as Triton passed the ball to Paul, who passed it to Quatre.
They headed down court, Quatre watching as Triton took his usual post under the basket, Paul moved around on the right, and Duo and Felicia were up the key, waiting. He gave a signal, waving his hand vertically over his head, and the team moved quickly–Triton popped out from the key, while Paul took his place; Felicia moved in while Duo moved out for a screen. Quatre moved quickly around #21 as he hit Duo’s screen, and passed to Felicia. She dribbled out to the left of the key and hurled it at Triton, who faked a three point shot, then passed it inbounds to Quatre, who’d cut through the middle and made a simple bank shot.
At the cheers from the crowd, Quatre glanced around, looking for Trowa. He said he wouldn’t come, but then again, he was here yesterday. He then returned his attention to #44, who was taking the ball out, and moved to distract her. She passed it in without trouble, and lumbered past him, making him wince at the onion smell that wafted from her. In possession of the ball, #21 began driving toward his end of the court, Quatre close on his tail.
Careful not to cause a reach, he moved alongside the player, noting that Cal-North was setting up for a maneuver. #44's frame caused him to slam short, #21 moving around them, passing to #76, who passed immediately out to #23, who made a jump shot from just inside the three point line. The ball bounced off the rim, Triton rebounding with ease, cradling the ball against his chest and arms as #76 attempted to take it.
As Cal-North shifted down court for defense, #21 stayed up top as Triton passed the ball to Quatre, who glanced at his players as they moved down court. #21 engaged him briefly in a battle for the ball, and someone’s hand, Quatre wasn’t sure whose, caused the ball to bounce away from them. Felicia picked up the fumble, and hurriedly made the shot–into Cal-North’s goal.
“PASSAGE!” Quatre screamed at her as shouts caused the noise level in the gym to rise.
Realizing what she’d just done, Felicia reddened to an unhealthy shade, looking absolutely horrified at what she’d done.
“Wrong basket, numb nut!!” Paul bellowed from their end of the court.
“Hey, thanks, man,” #21 said to her, grinning.
Felicia looked entirely lost as she turned to Ramos, signaling that she wanted out. Quatre wanted to kick her for making that mistake, and she was replaced by Mariemaia while Darken’s crowd screamed at her.
“Wrong way, Passage!” someone shouted from the stands, and there was just something about the words that made it seem wrong. Others caught up on it, and began to chant, “Wrong way Pas-sage! Wrong way Pas-sage!”
This only intensified her mortification, and she drew a towel over her head, hiding her face from all that looked at her.
Quatre shook his head, and returned his focus on the game, vowing to beat her up later for that. Mariemaia swept by him, immediately attacking the inbounds pass, and received possession of the ball. She passed it to Quatre, who then turned to move down court. He saw Duo was wide open, so he passed to him, instructing the frosh to take over on #21 while he watched #44, simply because of height and control factor.
Mariemaia moved in quick, sticking to #21 like glue while Quatre battled awful onion scent and a meaty shoulder prodding at his back.
He caught the pass at one instant, and made a wide hook shot. The ball bounced off the rim, with #76 rebounding. Triton immediately snagged the ball from his hand, and put it back up. The ball bounced over the rim, causing players to shuffle about in an effort to gain possession over the ball. After a short battle, Quatre was once again in possession, and he set himself up for a three, taking his time as #44 lunged at him. He made the shot, glancing up at the scoreboard to see that they were still ahead.
This sort of play continued until half-time was called.
In the locker room, everyone was giving Felicia a hard time for making a basket for the other team.
“Cut it out, you guys!” she wailed. “I got confused!”
“Your ‘confusion’ is going to mess up our team strategy, Passage,” Ramos snarled. “You’ve only got six point at this time. Kushrenada has about nine, and she’s a freshman.”
“‘And she’s a freshmen’,” Felicia mimicked under her breath, glaring at the redhead that glowed with the praise.
“Well,” Ramos began, blinking at them. “You guys are doing well, so far. Maxwell, you have over twenty points. Winner, you’ve got seventeen. Step it up a little. Yuy, you’ve got ten in the last quarter. Minogue, you’ve got twelve. Kushrenada, you’ve got nine. Passage...I’m not counting those points for the team, but you’ve got only six. You’re disappointing me.”
Felicia muttered something under her breath, glaring at him.
“All in all, we’re doing well. Just step up your game, guys...and, er, girls. Give them something to work hard against. It’s like the lot of you are just out there just to be out there. It’s really pissing me off. You’re all slacking in the intensity department. I threatened yesterday to make practice harder, and it looks like that’s what I have to do.”
“Aw, coach, go easy on us!” Triton complained. “There are people bustin’ ass out there!”
“And you’re not one of them!”
“I’m just saying, there are people busting ass. I’m not saying I am–”
“Ha! So you admit in not trying?”
“Er, no, I just–”
“Shut it, Bloom!” Duo yelled from his bench. “People are covering for your mistakes all the fuckin’ time!”
“Like me,” Otto grumbled. “I hate picking up slackers’ work!”
“HEY! I’m playin’ hard out there!”
“You’ve only got five points,” Ramos reminded him on a bored drawl, fiddling with his playboard.
“Well...defensively I’m kicking ass...”
Quatre snorted as he contemplated his jiggling knee. He was sitting on a bench, slouching with his arms crossed over his chest. “I’ve noticed a little lagging when it comes to #44.”
“Hey! I don’t see you pushing her around under the basket!”
“She’s manly, man!” Brian declared, hitting Felicia with the back of one hand. “More so than you!”
“THANK you, you Dolt.”
“Shut up.”
“Then quit fucking around with me. Dolt.”
“You’d better–!”
“And, Passage, no helping out with the other team,” Ramos said on a sigh. He waved the team at the doors. “Get out of my sight. All of you. Shoot some baskets.”
The team, making their own noises of discontent and comments, made their way out the door.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
They’d won that game, pulling up from 89 to a 102, and Quatre felt disappointed that he hadn’t seen Trowa there tonight. Back at his room, after he’d put his things away and got them ready for tomorrow’s eight a.m. exodus back to Roseville to finish the tourney, he made sure his homework was completed for Monday and flopped onto his bed. Staring sullenly at the floor, he wondered if he and Trowa were ever going to go back to the terms they’d held before...Trowa was his first real relationship, and he definitely missed the boy...but then again, when it came back to certain issues, he’d rather not bother with him at all.
His conflicts continued to confuse him, and he thought about them at length, wrinkling his forehead with his misery. He spied the VCR and the twenty-four inch screen, and scowled at them as he sat up on his bed.
He considered going to Felicia’s room to ask if she had any movies, but she was pissed at him for calling her “Wrong Way Passage” at Taco Bell earlier, and had threatened to castrate him if he came near her.
Bored, despite the upcoming curfew at eleven, Quatre flopped back on his bed.
He was considering masturbation when someone knocked on his door. He got up and walked over, opening it to reveal no one there. He glanced at the speakerpad located just below the keypad, and called out, but the security guard didn’t answer him.
He looked down at his feet when something caught his eye, and saw a pretty package sitting there.
He nudged it with his foot, eyeing it with suspicion. Ramos had told him to inform security about any other odd and suspicious things, and this was certainly one of them. So he rang Lowell, the downstairs security guard, and waited for the friendly black man to come up.
Lowell took the package, listened to Quatre’s explanation why he was refusing it, and nodded before leaving, to give it to the top dogs of Darken’s security task force.
After that, Quatre walked back into his room, wondering if Trowa was interested in break-up sex when his phone rang. Uncomfortably irritated at his horniness, he had a fleeting thought of wondering what Triton Bloom was doing, and considered the notion of taking him as a fuck buddy. Hell, there was no feelings involved, and it was obvious what Triton wanted and what Quatre wanted, and there’d be no complications...
He picked up his cell, glancing at his window at the private name, private number, and answered it cautiously.
“..Is this...Winner?”
He frowned at the unfamiliar voice. “Yeah. What?”
“Hey. This is Jake. Look, I just wanted to apologize for that shit today...”