Chapter Text
I really need new shoes, Todd thought, spinning himself around in his office chair, watching the way the bottoms of his years-old converses looked like they might slip off with each push of his feet against the floor.
He watched the world go by as he span around slowly, Farah looking through paperwork, Dirk definitely not playing Candy Crush behind his computer screens, the way the specs of dust that floated in the air were highlighted by the spring sun coming in through the window. Farah again, scrunching her face up, Dirk again, looking over at Todd through the gaps in the computer screens, and then back down at what Todd presumed was the same level he’d been stuck on all week. The same dust particles, and the bush behind the window that they’d been checking weekly for any Blackwing spies for the last six months, lit up by the light of the early afternoon.
“We need to get out.”
Todd jumped, almost falling out of his chair, and watched Dirk smack his phone face down onto the table, and, if he knew Dirk well enough, which he did, that frantic movement of his mouse would be him shuffling tabs around on his computer as if he’d been looking at them the entire time. Todd looked to Farah, who had seemed to be where the words had come from. He felt his brow crease.
“Huh?”
“We need to go out. Do something. Somewhere. Anywhere. A restaurant, a bar, a club, I don’t care. There’s only so much Blackwing research we can do, only so much Blackwing we can hide from, when they’re not doing anything, and nothing is happening.”
Todd flinched a little, looking to Dirk. He worried. Of course he did. Any mention of Blackwing made him worry for Dirk, considering how much time he had spent looking after him after he’d left.
He’d thought he was fine, once they’d left Wendimoor at the end of last October. Dirk had thought he was fine. But it was the flinching at Farah mentioning Blackwing first, when they were still setting up the agency and she had been thinking out loud about needing to keep track of them in the background, in case they were still looking for Dirk. Then it was the nightmares, and once Todd had woken up to find Dirk had somehow gotten into his apartment in the night, and fallen asleep at the foot of his bed, he had deduced that one, they should probably be living together, at least for now, and two, Blackwing stuff was for him and Farah only. For the time being, of course.
And after a few months, Dirk had actually started to become somewhat comfortable with knowing Farah was keeping tabs on Blackwing. He’d even asked her how it was coming along once, a few months ago, and had taken a lot of interest in the fact that Farah had somehow gained access to Priest's phone from her computer, watching her scroll through all his text messages grinning like a gossipy schoolgirl, despite the fact that they didn’t contain anything interesting. It looked like Blackwing had retreated into their shell a little after the whole, you know, breaking Dirk in and then out again while Kellum Knights killed half their staff situation, and maybe they had gone entirely off the grid, shut everything down, considering the lack of, well, anything on Priest’s phone in the last month. But they couldn’t be sure, and Todd had worried and worried and worried enough for Farah to continue to keep tabs on them anyway, and keep all three of them inside, away from crowds, or anywhere public really, where someone could hide, or distract Dirk, or lead him somewhere without them noticing.
Of course, they had kept at work on other cases, but every time Blackwing was mentioned, as Farah had just done, Todd would always look to Dirk just in case, as he had just done, only a second ago.
Dirk looked fascinated by the tabs on his screen.
Todd decided, instead, to bring up something a little more confusing about what had just been said.
“You wanna go to a club? Farah Black wants to go to a club?”
“Is there a problem with that?” Farah deadpanned back.
“You just… don’t strike me as the… club… type?” Todd hoped this would be the right thing to say. She had been a little irritable recently.
“I’m just sick of my job being my life, Todd.”
“Okay, now I’m really worried.” He raised his eyebrows.
“She’s right, you know,” Dirk poked his head around his computer monitor, speaking through a mouthful of gummy bears that he’d probably pulled out from somewhere in that sugar-infested hell he called a desk drawer.
Todd dropped his eyebrows and squinted at Dirk, as if that would give him the clarification he needed. He turned his head and looked at Dirk side on, confused.
“Are you… We’re hiding from Blackwing because we’re worried about you, Dirk.” He flinched at the word coming out of his mouth so easily around Dirk. “We still keep trying to hack their systems because we're worried about you.”
“And that’s all well and good, Todd, I appreciate it,” Dirk pushed his chair out from under his desk. “However, if they really are after me, trying to catch me offguard or something of the sort, don’t you think we would’ve heard something?”
“What do you mean?”
Dirk tossed another gummy bear into his mouth. “Well, we have Priest’s phone, which has given us what in the last month? Nothing, Todd, that's what.”
“But like what if… what if they know? What if they’ve got him a new one? I doubt they're strapped for cash at, you know, the US government.”
“That’s not how it works Todd.” It sounded much less cheery coming out of Farah’s mouth than Dirk’s. “If they’d given him a new phone, they would’ve completely wiped the old one. He’s still getting emails, just… none about Blackwing.”
“Yes, I’ve seen those.” Dirk added. “I wouldn’t have pegged him for a Golf Weekly sort of guy.”
“Point is, Todd,” Farah continued on. “I’m sick of being cooped up, only leaving the house for the office, or for cases. I wanna go out, do something, forget about work for once. We don’t do much else at all.”
“Exactly, Farah, what we need…” Dirk pointed between the two of them. “…is gossip!” He smiled, seemingly choosing to ignore Farah furrowing her brow as if to say that’s not what I meant. “We need something interesting to talk about! I mean, can either of you name me one interesting thing any of us have heard or seen since we started the agency that isn't case-related?”
“Todd turned Farah gay!” A voice from inside the break room interrupted.
Farah jumped, a little caught off guard, as Amanada waltzed into the office space with a bag of cheetos.
Todd’s lips started to form the word how, but decided to stop there. He supposed he didn’t need to worry about all the ways the Rowdy Three could possibly break into their office without them noticing. He worried enough, according to Dirk and Farah in the last five minutes. The how turned into the start of a what, when he read the large letters on her shirt that spelled out BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN. He decided, again, that he didn’t want to know, and shut his mouth.
“Amanda, lovely to see you and that… gorgeous shirt as always,” Dirk started as she ruffled his hair. “However, I'm not entirely sure, one, how you got in here without us noticing, and two, that that’s how it works?”
“Just grabbing something to eat before we hit the road.” Amanda said coolly, ignoring Dirk’s second point. “You guys are out of cheetos.”
“We just… bought… some,” Todd added, confused. “And… hey!” He snapped, a little too late, he guessed.
Farah sighed from her position with her elbow now on her desk, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“While we’re on the topic,” Dirk spoke through another fistful of candy. “I may be proving myself wrong here with the fact that this is, one, something interesting from the last few months, and two, definitely gossip, although not entirely not-case-related considering they met while we were on a case, but Farah is seeing someone!” Dirk put on his little singsong voice to end his sentence, much to the displeasure of Farah, who seemed to have frozen up a little.
“She’s not seeing someone, Dirk, they hooked up like, what, twice now?” Todd looked to Farah, who still looked a little stiff, and not at all happy with being the topic of conversation.
“Wow.” Amanda looked over to her, seemingly finding this a little funny herself.
“Yes, and that's why she’s wearing that awful turtleneck,” Dirk said to Amanda, in an unsuccessful whisper, which was not surprising, considering it was, well, Dirk. “She’s covered,” He gestured to the general area of his neck.
Amanda raised her eyebrows and looked back at Farah, crunching on a cheeto as Dirk opened his mouth to speak again.
“And! And, and, and, if Farah is seeing someone,” Dirk continued on, to the frustrated exhale of Farah. “Does that not then mean that we have technically already been “exposed” to Blackwing already, and still, nothing has happened?”
Todd found Dirk’s love for air quotes a little annoying sometimes. Amanda cut in.
“Anyway… Thanks for the door,” She said, referring sarcastically to their van door replacement, which was, to put it bluntly, Mona. Todd was unsure what enjoyment she got from being part of the Rowdy van, but whatever. Another thing he didn’t need to confuse himself with. Amanda carried on.
“We’re heading out now, so-”
“Ooh! Where?” Dirk perked up even more, somehow.
“Anywhere. Not here. I’m just so sick of Todd.” She smiled sarcastically.
Todd rolled his eyes, feeling a little guilt at it and choosing to squash it down as Amanda hugged Dirk goodbye.
He watched her make for the door, still processing what she had actually just said.
After a second, he hopped up to follow her out of it.
His feet scuffed on the gravel ground as he ran to catch up.
“Hey! Were you really gonna leave without sayi-”
“Todd.” She stopped and turned around on the spot, and Todd almost ran into her.
She continued.
“Go out with them.”
Todd stuttered a little.
“I- I just- I don’t wan’t D-”
“You don’t want Dirk to get hurt, or taken away again, I know, but like, isn’t keeping him cooped up worse? He might as well be in Blackwing at this point.”
Todd felt a pit in his stomach. He hadn't thought of it like that. His mouth hung open a little as Amanda spoke again.
“Plus, look at Farah. If that workaholic is cracking, it’s been too long, Todd.”
Todd flinched a little as he heard the Rowdy van turning the corner. It pulled up to a stop behind her as she spoke.
“And, dude, you’re disgusting.” She looked him up and down with the criticism of someone who didn’t live in a van full-time. “That shirt is disgusting, and you haven't changed those jeans the entire time I’ve been back here. That’s, what, like two weeks? That's some old Todd shit.”
She chuckled to herself, slinging her slipping backpack up onto her shoulder.
“I'm almost expecting you to call me later and tell me you still don't have pararibulitis.”
Todd felt his eyes widen a little, much to the lack of care of his sister, who gave him a loose hug as he stood there. He reciprocated, still processing the conversation.
She turned to the van and walked to the doors that were now sliding open.
“H- Hey!” Todd started again, once he’d zoned back in. “Call me!”
“I won’t!” Amanda hopped into the van, that Todd could see was packed with what looked like a large box of something orange, that Vogel and Beast were now helping themselves to as Martin revved the van.
Todd squinted as the van started to move and the doors began to slide closed.
“Hey! I knew we weren’t out of cheetos!”
He just about caught what looked like Vogel flipping him off, as the door slid shut and the van peeled off down the road.
Todd sighed. He put his hands in his pockets and rocked forwards onto his toes, watching them disappear.
He turned back to the office.
…
“Fine.” He said as he pushed the door open.
Dirk and Farah looked up. Dirk seemed elated to have convinced Todd to do something, as usual.
“Let’s go out.”
–
Todd drummed his fingers on the wooden coffee table.
“Dirk, when you said you wanted gossip, this wasn't exactly what I thought you meant.”
He watched Dirk across the table, sinking into the plaid patterned armchair and sipping a seriously ridiculous-looking hot chocolate, piled up with marshmallows.
In the middle of April? Really?
Dirk peered back at him over the tower of whipped cream, and pulled a confused looking face. Well, half a face, anyway.
“Well, Farah did say anywhere.”
Todd rolled his eyes.
“So this has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve been talking about this exact hot chocolate since December?”
Dirk sighed dramatically, in the same way he always did when he was pretending Todd was truly exasperating him more than he actually was, placing his mug onto the saucer.
“That is completely besides the point. This place, just like any place, could lead us literally anywhere. That’s what's so great about leaving the house, Todd.”
Todd fought the urge to roll his eyes again as Farah sat down with a pastry. Dirk continued on.
“See, there, what if the reason Farah was taking so long was because that woman behind the counter was asking for her number or something?”
“Is your idea of gossip just hearing about Farah’s dating life?”
Dirk turned to her.
“Well?”
She looked between them.
“I just didn’t know which one to get.”
Dirk sighed and slumped back in his chair, almost sliding out of it with the standard theatricalness of the Dirk he was used to.
“You’re too much of a perfectionist, Farah. Where’s your whimsy? Where’s your edge?
“My edge is the fact that I’m carrying a gun in a cafe, Dirk.”
Dirk seemed to think for a second, picking up his mug slowly and peering over the mountain of marshmallows and sprinkles again, taking a sip, and speaking again.
“Perhaps Todd’s right, maybe we do need to go somewhere more interesting.”
“I didn't say that, I said I wasn’t expecting a cafe with sunflower wallpaper and an average customer age of, like, a hundred, to be the best place to get gossip from.”
“I’m saying you’re right about something, Todd, don’t you usually like that?” He smirked over at Todd.
Todd rolled his eyes, again, and laughed a little to himself.
“Anyway,” Dirk continued from the comfort of the colourful eyesore that this place called an armchair. “I think you are right, Todd, I think we won’t find the fun of freedom from all that Blackwing nonsense here, so I reckon w-”
“Oh. My. God.” A voice came from somewhere in the space behind Dirk and Farah.
“Todd Brotzman?”
Todd looked over and screwed his face up at the man in front of him, holding a stack of flyers in his hand and wearing a battered, patched, black denim jacket that told Todd he didn't even have to look up to know where this person knew him from, but he did so anyway.
“Spike?”
“Dude, oh my god! It’s been forever man, how are you?”
What the fuck?
He was a little confused, at the idea of someone he knew from his Mexican Funeral days being nice to him. Spike, despite his name, was actually quite nice, though, and Todd had let him crash on his couch back in the day. Maybe he had paid his dues with that, he thought, but such niceness coming from a guy dressed like that still felt confusing. He didn’t even get that much of a genuine smile from the similarly-dressed Rowdy Three, not unless they’d just hit him in the nuts with a baseball bat or something. It made him a little nervous.
“U-Uh, yeah, man, I’m good, just, yeah… um, how about you?” He asked, feeling like the question came out a little like Spike might shoot him if he spoke wrong, but he couldn’t really imagine an interaction like this going any different for his mental state.
“Yeah man, I’m great! Still rocking the get-up, of course, same old jacket, man, can you believe he survived so long?”
Todd felt himself chuckle, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck and hoping the laugh came across less like it was at Spike than with him.
“Not really, man.”
“You still rocking with the old crew?”
“Oh, um, not really,” Todd felt his nails dig into the back of his neck a little, trying to ignore Dirk’s eyes burning a hole through him. “We don't, really, talk anymore?”
“Oh thank god!”
Todd tried his best to not pull the face that started to come through out of instinct.
What?
“I know a couple guys who still talk to ‘em. So pretentious.” Spike shook his dark hair out of his eyes and pulled a disgusted-looking face. “I’d never let ‘em in my gigs.”
“You’re still… doing shows?”
“Oh god, no, not like those kinda gigs. Like, events! That’s why I’m here, man! Flyers and shit!” He held up the stack of flyers with a smile. “Gotta keep the culture kickin! You want one?”
He pulled a flyer off of the top of the pile and stuck his hand out to Todd.
“Thought this was kind of a shitty place to start but I like the muffins here, and like, you’re here, so I got somethin’ outta it. Your friends can come too if they want!” He turned to Farah. “Sick jacket, by the way.”
Todd took the flyer cautiously and scanned it over.
Red and black, with big letters in a jagged font, that read 2000’s Alternative Revival Night.
Todd felt Dirk hovering at the edge of the table and a little, and passed him the flyer.
“Revival Night?”
“Yeah man, down at The Garage! Every Saturday! All the old hits!”
Spike widened his eyes for a second as he went to correct himself.
“None of your stuff though, not if you don’t want, man!”
Todd looked to Dirk, whose face looked almost exactly the same as Todd imagined it would look if the barista had given him an extra handful of marshmallows on his hot chocolate. He raised his eyebrows and looked back to Spike.
“And none of… my… guys… will be there?”
“Not a chance man. You were the only one I liked outta that crew, anyway.”
It was so weird to Todd, hearing that about himself. He’d never thought in a million years he could've left a good impression on someone from back then.
“Uh…”
He looked to Dirk, who was nodding so hard Todd worried his head might fall off, and then to Farah, who shrugged subtly, with a look that read not a bad idea.
“You know what? Sure.”
–
Saturday rolled around far quicker than Todd had expected.
He pulled out another tattered band tee from the musty smelling, dust-covered box in the back of his closet and groaned
“Todd, are you sure that’s necessary?” Dirk called out from behind his closet door. “I mean, I think your outfits are lovely as they are, ”
“Well, yeah, kinda!” Todd threw the shirt to the never-ending pile of his well-aged punk wardrobe behind him, and reached in for the next one. “I haven't been somewhere like this in years, man! What if there’s, like, people I knew there?”
“I thought that… Spike man said they weren’t going?”
Todd threw the shirt to the pile and reached in again, pulling out the last one.
“They’re not, but like, other people might be! And people talk, Dirk! I’d rather not look like shit if I’m being treated like shit.”
“Neither of those things are going to happen, Todd. I don’t even know if the first one is even possible, really.”
Todd looked at the shirt in front of him, and tried to picture an outfit with it. He stood up with it hanging from his hands, catching the light a little better.
Hmmm…
Nope. Hate it.
He scrunched it up and turned to throw it into the pile, shouting a loud Ugh! at it as if it had personally hurt him just by existing. He turned and kicked the pile hard, slipping on another shirt and hitting the floor as he did so.
“Ow, fuck!”
He looked over at the pile of shirts, that had hardly even slumped to the side from his aggression.
Dirk poked his head around the closet door.
“Did you, perhaps, date Spike at some point?”
Todd propped himself up onto his elbows, still on the floor with his head ringing a little, trying not to look at Dirk as if he was crazy.
“What the fuck? No? Why?”
“Well, I cant help but think it, considering… well…” Dirk looked around the 2000’s-punk-pinterest-board-explosion that was currently Todd’s room. “...this.”
“Dude, I just… I’m, like… I’m a different person now…”
“And you want to show that by… dressing exactly the same?” Dirk pulled that face he always did when Todd was doing something stupid, with the confused little smile that Todd felt he would find ridiculously cocky and annoying in anyone else.
“No, I mean, yeah, but like…” He paused for a moment and pulled himself half off of the floor, shuffling himself over to his closet again and reaching further back for the box of jackets, despite still having not decided on a shirt yet. He pulled one out from the top..
“I just… I don’t want to look like a mess, like, not put together.” He glared at the jacket in front of him. “I hate this one, why the fuck do I still have this?! Ugh!”
Todd threw a beat-up black jacket behind him, watching Dirk dodge it.
“Well, you are a bit of a mess, Todd. We all are, did we not face off with a man in a dinosaur costume just last week?”
Todd dropped the next jacket he’d just picked up into his lap, and sighed dramatically, burying his head in the black denim.
“I mean me! Just me! I’m, like, put together now,” Todd ignored the fact that he could practically hear Dirk’s eyebrow raising at this. “I don’t wanna show up looking like breaking up the band turned me into a sad man in his thirties who’s been desperate for the old days for the last ten years, just trying too hard.”
“Is this you not trying hard?” He heard Dirk smile from behind him.
“Dude!” He turned around, looking up at Dirk, feeling red in the face and actually mad, if he was honest. “Are you just gonna judge me, is that, like, all you’re doing here?”
Dirk seemed to scramble for a response, turning a bit red himself and stuttering.
“No! N-no, of course not! I, Um…” He looked around at the room again, and picked a shirt off the bed. “Oh! Look, I like this one! I’ve not seen you wearing this one in any old pictures!”
“Yeah, ‘cause that's Amanda’s” Todd hauled himself to his feet, snatching the shirt back and making a point to drop it back in the pile in front of Dirk. “I don’t even know how that got in there.”
“Okay, um…” Dirk spun around a couple times, seeming to look for another shirt and actually looking like a dog chasing its own tail.
Todd tried not to laugh. He did appreciate Dirk, when he wasn’t trying to get under his skin on purpose. He was good at being his friend, he knew how to get a smile out of him without even trying, even now considering this was probably the first time Todd had smiled all day.
“Ooh! This one! This one looks cool, and what is that, lightning on the front?”
“No, dude, that one looks like it was made on fucking Microsoft Paint.”
Dirk cocked his head toward Todd in a way that reminded him just how many times he had protested against his personal-designed Mexican Funeral shirts looking exactly the same.
Todd pulled a face back, creasing his brows and speaking before Dirk could even say anything.
“Fuck off, Dirk.”
“Okay, so, no Microsoft Paint shirt.” Dirk promptly let the shirt go, letting it fall to the floor. He leaned across the bed, picking up another one hanging off the edge of it.
“This one?”
A band tee that Todd unfortunately recognised.
“The Broken Shins? Oh god, no, I did actually date their lead singer.”
Dirk raised an eyebrow and pulled a face that read tell me more!
Sometimes Todd really hated Dirk’s love for drama.
“He’s like, married with kids now, he won’t be there but I’m still not wearing that in public”
Dirk shrugged and threw the shirt to the side, looking around for another terrible and very-worn one from Todd’s collection.
“You know,” Todd drew closer next to Dirk, to where he was now pulling shirts off the top of the pile. “I’m not sure where you got the idea that I’d trust you with picking my outfit.”
Dirk turned around, with that stupid look of feigned offence he always paired with Todd’s snarky remarks like that.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m just saying,” Todd moved a little closer again, and picked up the bottom of his tie, the one with little ice cream scoops embroidered onto it. He smiled, readying his bait. “This? It’s kinda ugly.”
Dirk gaped for a moment as Todd looked up at him, looking as pink as the scoops on his tie, all fake mad, blinking rapidly and stuttering out a shocked response.
“I- H-” He formed an accusatory smile. “How very dare you! I’ll have you know, your sister and the Rowdies got me that for my birthday!”
“Got? They probably stole it, and good for them too because its not worth the money-!” Todd’s response devolved into a snicker as he dodged Dirk’s attempt to push him over and sent him tumbling forward.
He hit the floor hard, making Todd wince through his laughter.
Dirk scowled up at him.
“You are so-” He seemed to think over something for a second, before kicking Todd’s feet out from under him and sending him backwards into the T-shirt pile.
“Ow! Asshole!”
“Oh come on, I bet that didn’t even hurt, at least not more than the floor you just pushed me onto!”
“Hey,” Todd hauled himself to his feet. “I didn’t push you, you fell, dude! Not my fault!”
Dirk scrunched his face up at Todd, looking for a response, and resorting to throwing the nearest shirt at him.
“I’ll take that to mean I’m ri- Hey, wait…”
He looked the shirt over. Simple and black, and button up wasn’t usually what he’d go for, but he remembered this one in quite a few nice outfits actually. Plus, if Dirk wanted gossip, maybe he’d get it, considering this was the one he’d wear with the buttons down, and his old necklaces when he wanted to get some action.
He might mentally judge his twenty-one-year-old self for that, and he wasn’t going to dress for action at the ripe old age of thirty-four, but it was one of the few items of clothing he’d picked up tonight that he actually liked. Dirk had thrown him the perfect shirt, and he thought to himself, maybe it’s a holistic thing. He’d take it either way.
He’d have to wear his leather jacket with this one though, and he was pretty sure Dirk was sitting on it.
He shrugged.
“This works. Now get up, you’re on my jacket.”
Dirk raised his eyebrows, doing that theatrical pointy thing he always did and readied himself to speak as Todd cut in.
“No, dude, you’re not taking credit for this.”
Dirk clamped his mouth shut reluctantly, and pushed himself up off the floor.
“Can I at least choose the trousers?”
“Fine,” Todd sighed. Dirk scrambled off, as Todd picked up the jacket from the floor.
“But!” He called out. “They have to be mine, I’m not wearing your neon bell botto-”
“These!”
Todd turned around, an eyebrow raised and the shirt only buttoned up at the bottom.
Dirk was holding up yet another pair of black skinny jeans, specifically, though, the ones with the chains on the pockets, that he’d sewn on himself back when he was still in the band.
“That was… fast, but…” Todd felt his face relax from its confusion. “I actually don’t mind these!”
“Y- Yes, um, well, I thought, there's nothing patched or sewn onto the shirt or the jacket, which, from the pictures I’ve seen, was quite unusual for Mexical Funeral Todd, so I reckon something with accessories might be nice.”
Todd thought for a second.
“That actually works!”
Dirk looked far too proud of himself. Todd carried on.
“Great assisting, Dirk!”
Dirk’s mouth gaped open in shock again as he looked at Todd side on.
“That’s not becoming a thing.”
“Whatever you say, man,” Todd turned around and resigned himself to changing the shirt.
“Also, dude,” He called out, pushing each button in as he spoke. “Why did you wanna go to this thing anyway? They’re not gonna be playing any Carly Rae Jepsen there, you do know that, right?”
Todd fiddled with the last button on the shirt.
“Dirk?”
“Oh! Um… Well”
He managed to slip the last button in and turned around as Dirk responded.
“I… I always like to spend time with you and Farah, plus, anything crazy happening that isn’t my fault is something I will always appreciate!” He beamed as Todd took the trousers from him.
“Right… Anyway, I need to put these on, so…”
Dirk stood there for a second, processing it as he always did when Todd asked him for privacy. Dirk wasn’t much of a personal space kind of person.
“Yes! Yes, of course…” He shuffled himself out of the room. “I will be…just outside” His voice trailed off outside the door.
Todd shook the jeans out, and pulled off the pyjama pants he’d spent all day stressing about tonight in.
Besides the whole, well, Blackwing thing, and, of course, the 2000’s-movie-outfit-change-montage that had been his day so far, Todd was still a little worried about tonight. He never really went to things like this anymore, not while it only riddled him with guilt about, well, everything in his past really.
But, like he’d just said, he was a different person now.
Plus, it would probably be pretty funny to watch Dirk try and fit in at a place like this. Farah probably wouldn’t have too much trouble, although she might with the whole socialising thing.
He buttoned his jeans up and threw the jacket on, looking himself up and down in the mirror.
This outfit probably would look better with a necklace, actually.
He sighed.
Maybe past Todd was right.
But, if he remembered right, he gave all his old necklaces to Amanda. Except…
He pulled his drawer open, for the silver chain with the little moon pendant on it. A gift.
Well, he recalled Dirk saying, how else are you supposed to remember the fact that we went to a whole different universe together? Although, I don't suppose I’ll be forgetting that terrifying moon anytime soon, but you might be different.
…
He stepped outside the door.
“How do I look?”
Dirk opened and closed his mouth a couple times, probably debating a silly joke or snarky remark, and thinking over whether now would be the time. He seemed to decide it wasn’t, standing up and crossing the room to Todd.
He reached to the collar on his jacket, where one of the corners was sticking up a little, folded from how long it had been sitting in the box. Or maybe the angle Dirk had been sitting on it earlier, Todd thought. Who knows.
He noticed Dirk shaking a little, and made a mental note to turn the thermostat up later. It might be firmly spring now, but weird body temperature was not out of the blue for Dirk. Gotta be a holistic thing, he always thought.
Dirk flattened the corner of the collar down, standing back to admire his hard work. He beamed.
“Perfect”
–
Despite being the one protesting going out, Todd was actually having fun here.
Dirk had seemed to get his foot in the hold, chatting to the bartender about their last few cases. He stood out in the crowd, all bright in his orange jacket and looking a little like a traffic cone.
But, despite his nature, he had mostly stuck to Todd and Farah all night, which Todd wasn’t bothered by really. Maybe he was still nervous about Blackwing.
Todd was. Well, less nervous for himself, more for Dirk, but his point still stood, he figured.
Although, Dirk didn’t seem nervous. Just enjoying spending time with Todd and Farah. Maybe he really just preferred them to everyone else, which, despite his lack of personal space these days, Todd didn’t really mind.
Farah had loosened up a little, after a few drinks, and she was actually talking to people, weirdly enough, with Dirk hovering next to her, people milling around him and talking as he stirred his little pink drink with the straw and let Farah take the reins. That was weird to see, especially where Farah was concerned, but on the other hand, Todd was yet to go a week without discovering something new about Dirk. Maybe he liked to listen as well as talk, although Todd was yet to see this for himself.
Maybe, Todd thought, he was gathering the previously mentioned gossip that he’d said he wanted, so he could burst into the office on Monday and shout something like Farah was flirting with whats-her-name!, or Farah got so-and-so’s number!
He would probably do the same with Todd too, considering he was, as past Todd would put it, especially when talking about this shirt in particular, getting some action.
The girl in front of him, Marie or Maria or something he couldn't quite remember, with her jet black hair with its blonde streak in the front, had recognised him from back in the day, she had said, only posters though, and she had poked fun of his hair from one he particularly remembered hating in a way that made him know she actually did know him, but clearly not well enough to have any second thought about approaching him.
She didn’t know know him back then, which was good. Todd liked that. He would prefer it if the people in his life who knew how he used to be stopped at Amanda and stayed there.
And she was funny too. Todd was actually having a good time.
And of course, he figured, Dirk would have a great time gossiping about it, too. He had looked over a couple times, and was probably thinking of how many questions he could ask him, like what’s her name, what's her star sign, when’s the wedding, and whatever other questions he’d probed Farah with, after the case she’d hooked up on a few months back.
He looked up again, and met Dirk’s eyes.
Dirk blinked a couple times, and smiled back at him, a wide one, that looked like it would probably hurt on someone who wasn’t Dirk, and even from a distance, through the expected darkness of a bar called The Garage that muted the sparkle in his eyes, Todd could still see the soft blue of them, the one constant. He shot Todd a firm, encouraging thumbs up. Todd smiled back.
“Hey!”
Todd turned back to… well, he was too far along to ask her name again now. He would just have to wait until someone else asked her. Probably Dirk if he managed to probe while she was still there.
“Yeah?”
“I asked if you wanted another drink?”
“Oh, uh, yeah sure!” He smiled.
“Same thing?”
He nodded, smiling a little more and awaiting the comment on his bland taste in beer that she had made a face at earlier.
“Each to their own, I guess,” She raised her eyebrows with a grin.
He felt himself chuckle a little, as she picked up his empty beer bottle off of the table and left. He watched the way the red of her jacket came to life a little more in the lights of the bar as she approached it.
It was weird, he thought, being somewhere like this, badly lit with a couple dim lights scattered here and there, the only clustered beam of light shining from behind the bar where Dirk seemed to have left his drink. The concrete floor of The Garage looked just as dirty as he’d had remembered, with scuff marks littered all over it and a couple more stickers than before, probably from local bands trying to advertise their music, with an Instagram handle instead of a Myspace one.
And he was enjoying himself. Minus all the Blackwing anxieties he’d had, and the fact that he was the only one who hadn’t wanted to risk exposing themselves, he had also had the thought wedged firmly in his mind the whole journey here that this place, this music, these people and their clothes, would make him feel worse about himself than he had in months. But, weirdly enough, he’d been having a really good time, noting all the songs playing to Dirk and Farah and whether he had heard them live or not, despite the fact that Farah couldn’t care less and Dirk was obviously pretending to know all the bands he mentioned.
What was weirder, he had found himself thinking once they had found their footing here, was that, after a few drinks, Farah actually didn’t mind socialising. He had wondered how she had managed to hook up at the wedding they went undercover for just a few months back, but now that he’d seen it for himself, he wasn’t really shocked. It had been open bar after all.
He looked over to her, still standing next to Dirk’s abandoned drink and talking to a girl in a loose plaid button up and baggy jeans, and laughed to himself, remembering the small pang of relief he’d felt realising it wasn’t him she’d lacked the chemistry with, just men in general, and that if Amanda had been the one whose apartment window Dirk climbed through, it probably would’ve worked out.
Dirk. Where is Dirk, anyway? He probably shouldn’t leave his drink over there like that, he thought, watching Farah sway a little, clearly not paying attention to the glass behind her.
He scanned the room, standing on his tiptoes, looking over the brightly coloured heads of hair for the glaring orange jacket, in a sea of black and metal. And he found it after a moment, over in a corner by an empty booth, enough space around him for the jacket to shine out for all the world to see, with another drink in hand, neon blue this time, chatting away to a guy next to him, probably about the case with the haunted berry farm. That one was his favourite.
Todd fell back onto his feet, and leaned to the side, peering around the crowd of people. He watched Dirk talk, on and on as he usually did. It was good, he thought, to see him so in his element, not letting Farah drive the conversation this time. Maybe he just needed some time to warm up to this place.
He watched the guy next to Dirk, a little shorter than him, with his bleached blonde buzzcut and patched denim jacket, move his head and look Dirk up and down a little, a visible smirk on his lips as he spoke back. He was really leaning forward a lot, too.
Weird, Todd thought. That’s really weird. People don’t really invade Dirk’s personal space. It’s usually the other way around.
And Dirk seemed to be matching it, hardly half an arms width between them, and he had this look on his face that Todd had never really seen before, he didn’t think. Smiling, flustered, and he’d seen Dirk nervous before but this wasn’t it.
The guy seemed to say something that made Dirk cock his head to the side, a level of confidence Todd only really saw at the start of a case with him, and that soft smile as he talked, bringing a laugh out from the denim-clad man, who put his beer down and pointed to Dirk’s drink. Dirk seemed to nod approvingly with a gentle, less painful looking grin than before, and the guy brushed Dirk’s hand a little as he took the glass from him and put it to his mouth.
What the fuck?
Todd felt his brow crease.
Why is Dirk letting that happen? We’re still technically a Blackwing target. He can’t just be letting people take his drink, what if that guy puts something in it?
He felt himself hardly a second away from stepping forward to approach, to say something, and stopped himself, as the blonde man pulled a face and handed Dirk his drink back, Dirk laughed, his eyes creasing in the corner with his sparkle back in them, now that they could reflect the bar lights.
He shook his head, his hair bouncing a little with it as he smiled, seeming to find this all far funnier than Todd did.
The guy with the beer in his hand again rocked forward onto his tiptoes. Dirk pushed his hand through his hair, loose handfuls of auburn moving softly between his fingers.
Oh.
Are they… flirting?
Since when did Dirk flirt with people?
Todd couldn’t think of a single time he’d ever seen Dirk show interest in anyone. The closest he could ever get to it was one of the few memories he could recall from Sound of Nothing, right after the love spell had kicked in, when he’d had to try not to laugh when a girl nearby seemed to think he was straight, but even that wasn’t him trying anything, only her. And Dirk was with Todd pretty much all the time, and he’d never seen Dirk get flirty. This was new.
And weird. This was weird. Really weird.
It felt unnatural, like something he needed to stop from happening.
Am I just not used to seeing Dirk flirting?
It wouldn’t be too out of the realm of possibility, considering he was basically magic, Todd thought.
He's different, he’s not-
“Are you okay?”
Marina, he remembered. That was it, the name of the girl who had just made him jump a little and push down the pang of guilt that had started to come through before she spoke. He turned to her and took the drink she’d brought for him.
“Yeah… Sorry, yeah, all good, my friend over there’s just… I don’t know… what… he’s doing, actually.”
He watched her peer around the crowd and take in what he’d been watching
“Oh! Yeah I saw that, he’s really getting it on with that guy!”
Todd felt his face scrunch up.
“Is he?”
“Yeah! Oh my god, that blonde guy is so trying to get in his pants.”
“Really…?”
“Yeah, and it’s working too. Don’t you guys live together?”
“We…” Todd turned back to the crowd, watching it close in as what he presumed was a local band or something took to the stage, bringing Dirk and his new… friend into full view. “We do, yeah…”
“You share a wall?”
“Yeah…”
“Good luck with that…” Marina laughed into her drink.
Todd watched the guy touch the lapels on Dirk’s jacket, looking slightly up at him. It seemed like the space between them had closed a little since he last looked over.
He blinked rapidly, turning back and shaking his head.
“No… no, he’s not…”
Like us.
Todd pushed down the shooting feeling of guilt again, his eyes darting all over the place as he tried to settle on something else to say instead.
“...Not what?” Marina looked… well, she looked something. Todd couldn’t put his finger on it.
“He’s not… He’s not the hookup type.”
Although, he’d thought the same about Farah before that case.
Whatever.
He stamped the guilt down harder inside.
“Aw,” Marina pulled a pouty face, and flicked her eyes behind Todd, to where Dirk was, and back. “Poor… whatever his name is.”
“Yeah, poor guy…” Todd turned to look over his shoulder. “He kinda looks like a tennis ball.”
Marina snickered from out of his view.
“Listen…”
Todd turned back.
“I should go… I don’t wanna leave my friends alone…”
“Y- Yeah, no, that’s all good,” Todd smiled back.
“If you ever manage to find out more about your friend and that girl from the wedding, let me know,” she called out as she walked off. “I love drama!”
“You’d fit right in!” He called back, realising he had no way of telling her even if he did find out if Farah was still seeing that woman, and that really, if she loved drama, she’d fit in better with Dirk than with all three of them.
He leaned against the tall table behind him, one elbow on it. He looked down at his drink, and then back to Dirk.
It was pretty strange, he thought without even willing himself to. Watching this magnet of chaos flirt in a bar like any other guy.
Any other guy.
And now, Todd had nothing to distract himself from the guilt, burning a hole in his stomach as he watched the guy across from them burst out laughing at whatever Dirk had just said.
He flicked his eyes somewhere else for a minute. Anywhere else. The wall. The little nook that led into the bathroom, the interesting design choice of lining the wall with license plates. The empty bottles of beer that rolled around on the floor. Farah, by the bar, alone now, and checking her phone under her jacket.
Todd felt himself picking at the label on his beer bottle, the little rolled up bits of paper sticking under his nail. He flicked them off and took a sip, pushing himself up from the table and walking over to Farah.
She didn’t look too pleased with whatever was on her phone.
“Who’s that?”
“Ah!” She jumped with a shout, shoving her phone into the pocket on the inside of her jacket. “Jesus! Todd! Don’t do that!”
“Sorry! Sorry,” He laughed a little as she let out a breath.
He leaned against the bar next to her.
They stood there in silence for a moment. The band played out on stage as Todd took another sip of his drink.
Honestly, they were kind of terrible. Todd would rather be at home.
–
Todd kicked through the mess of T-shirts he’d left behind in his room, still a little tipsy, and flopped backwards onto his bed. Normally, after a night out, he would set himself up with a glass of water and some Advil, with his meds thrown loose on the table just in case. But tonight wasn’t one of those nights. If it had been, maybe he would’ve come home drunk enough to not be so annoyed at having that shitty band’s music stuck in his head.
He yanked his jeans off and chucked them into a corner, rolling onto his side. He pulled his phone out to put it on the bedside table, and saw the text light up the screen. From Farah, to their little group chat of three.
The photo Dirk had forced them to take before they went in earlier. On Farah’s phone of course, the best and most expensive of all of theirs, having being bought and paid for back when she was working under Patrick Spring.
Dirk’s smile was centre focus, lit up by the neon lights from outside the bar and practically taking up half of the screen. The camera quality was glaringly good too, and Todd could see all the little crinkles in Dirk’s face, his smile reaching his eyes, giving them the same little lines in the corners, just like he’d had earlier.
Todd switched his phone off and slid it onto the table.
Yeah. That. That felt odd. Seeing Dirk flirt.
But he couldn’t help the guilt that came after it, the guilt that came from looking at Dirk’s smiling face in that photo when it crossed his mind. How many times, he thought, could they have told him that in Blackwing? Or when he was growing up?
You’re not like us. You’re different.
Maybe he told himself that too. When he was trying to make friends. When he first met me. Maybe he thought they were right.
Blackwing.
Todd hated Blackwing. He’d rather blow his head off than do anything they’d ever do. He’d rather go and see that awful band in full concert. Blackwing traumatised his best friend. He wasn’t like them.
He wasn’t Blackwing. And he wasn’t an asshole, not like he used to be. He was a different person now.
He just… wasn’t used to seeing it, and maybe that was the first thing that came to mind but it wasn’t how he felt about Dirk, about the things Dirk did, not anymore.
And not about Dirk’s… romantic life either. He was better than that.
He could get used to it.
He could get used to that guy, if he stuck around, too. Even if he did need a toner. And to patch his jacket better. He could do with a better hair clipper, too.
Maybe he would stick around, too. He seemed to like Dirk’s company, a lot more than Todd had when they’d first met,
He pushed down the guilt yet again. It wasn’t uncommon for it to come up whenever he thought of how he treated Dirk so long ago. But it was stronger now, when paired with the weird twinge he felt at the thought of Dirk getting someone’s number, or calling it the next day, as if it was as strange to see as the things on their cases, like the three headed pig from last month.
Strange as it might be, he was going to have to get used to it, if he wanted to be a good friend. If he wanted to stay the different person he claimed he was.
He was. He was a different person. He’d changed.
Hadn’t he?
His head hurt.
Maybe he did need some Advil.