• Tyler •
I couldn't help thinking, on regular occasion, that Felix simply didn't like me. Now, that wasn't because he ever outwardly showed animosity – oh no, god forbid, but he did seem to pick the worst missions for me to go on, and I didn't get any say in the matter ("We need you on this one, Tyler, you're the only one skilled enough to do it" – knows exactly how to get under my skin) and suddenly I found myself abandoned in Australia on an intersector unity mission, of all things.
This is meant to be Felix's job, dammit.
Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad, if somebody had notified Sector Three that I would be showing up on their doorstep. Instead, I was met with a team of men (because sexism is still rampant apparently), all of who looked considerably younger than me (sigh) and were pointing guns at me. Not the fun type, either.
I mean, really, we live in a world of superheroes. Why threaten me with guns? I'd be more threatened if you just held your arm out, now that was something to be afraid of. Instead I was forced to a standstill, pretending to look mildly afraid whilst keeping a cool face, and thinking to myself, Felix, regardless of whether you hate me, I hate you, because I am not your henchman when there's a job you don't want to do.
"Step back, sir." One of the men, eyes trained entirely on me and narrowed, as if studying a curious specimen, stated, as if my taking a singular step back was going to make a difference. So, not the best of the best then. These were the people who did their best to hold the threats while they brought of the big guns.
Now, let it be known, I may hate Felix as of approximately two minutes ago, but I do not hate Sector Eight, and I didn't have any intentions of sabotaging this mission, even if it would be incredibly entertaining to do so. So, with a smile that probably came across slightly aggressive, I slowly raised my arms and took one, small step back. Who said I couldn't have fun with it?
The man looked like he was about to blow a fuse and opened his mouth, probably to politely ask me to take another one, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Clearly, this was the big guns, because unlike the line of armed soldiers that stood in front of me, he was wearing plain clothes. The man immediately stood down, as if reassured, and the rest followed. "Stand down. He has business here. For now."
"I'm hurt." I smiled, lowering my arms immediately and retracing the step. This boy, because he was a boy, he hardly even looked to be an adult, raised an eyebrow as I approached him, sticking my arm in means of greeting. Apparently unamused, he simply turned, not taking up my offer of a handshake, which is really offensive, excuse you, there are very few ways to torture a person passively and refusing a handshake is one of them, and walked, obviously expecting me to follow him. "And here I thought I was coming to discuss peaceful coexistence."
"You are. Keyword, discuss." He simply stated as I followed him into the building, away from the small crowd of onlookers who had gathered, through a door and down a hallway. I was yet to determine whether he was my escort or the person I was here to speak to, but either way he wasn't anything to scoff out. He radiated power like a heater, and his very presence demanded respect. Yet still, it looked almost self-inflicted, which was very interesting and something I would definitely be looking into before I left. "I've not decided if I'm going to take up your offer yet."
Which meant he was Sector Three's equivalent of Felix, and he definitely wasn't interested in taking me to their equivalent of Ian or Anthony. But that wasn't entirely fair. Sector Eight, after all, was mostly ran by the sergeant's – these were government organizations, so matters such as these were down to the strongest of their ranks, because they didn't really have an equivalent. So hey, leader of Sector Three. I was flattered. "Well that's a little harsh. We approached you, after all. It was one of your lot invading our ranks."
The man suddenly turned to me, anger clearly evident on his face, disapproval radiating from his every pore, and ouch, what that a crinkle? Somebody was tired, which meant somebody was cranky, which meant I should probably be a little more cautious about what I said. "You're a breach of the law, you and your 'Sector Eight'. We are government ran organizations, authorized to fight crime. You are a group of vigilantes, taking it upon yourselves to breed machines to fight things you think are wrong, without a warrant or permission. I have every right to arrest you right now."
"The government and I have an understanding," I revoked, knowing that was probably not something anybody had explained to him yet, and that given how he seemed entirely law led it would be the first thing he'd want to hear. "Well, not me personally, but you get the gist. They know that we exist; they don't try to control us. The only time we confront them is actually when one of you guy's find out about us. Irony, huh?"
He seemed to accept that at least, frowning as I spoke but not interrupting. Finally, he held his hand out, and I took it gleefully, feeling at least a little bit happier than the handshake hadn't been neglected entirely. He shook it a little firmly, but not so much that it felt like he was trying to cut off circulation to my arm, which was a good sign. "Troye Sivan."
"Tyler Oakley." I smiled and released. Felix had actually been the one to teach me about handshakes – too loose and you appeared weak, too strong and you appeared aggressive. It was important to put across the correct message, or you could end up on bad footing with another person before you even start. "Lovely to meet you. Might I say, you have very nice eyes."
Troye then decided to emphasize this point by rolling them, which, hey, appreciate that, very kind of you. Obviously not meant to be judgmental at all. He didn't respond verbally however, and simply reached over to turn the handle of the door we had reached. Inside was a desk with computer, a small phone and not really much else. There were seats on either side of the desk, but the walls were empty, and it was abundantly clear that this was the 'intimidation' room. Troye didn't acknowledge it, simply moving over to the other side of the desk and picking up the phone, rapidly typing in a number and sending me a glare that very aggressively said take a seat.
Still not quite on even footing then, I can take a hint. So I took the seat, electing to not question him and just listen to his side of the conversation. It clearly wasn't secret if he was having it directly in front of me. "Hello? Yes, I'd like to speak to Anthea. I have a small issue I need to discuss with her."
There was a pause, and I found myself very quickly bored, kicking my legs slightly to get at least a small bit of entertainment to stop myself pulling out my phone, because that I was certain would get me on his bad side. "Hi Anthea. Troye Sivan of Sector Three here. I'm speaking to Tyler Oakley of the supposed Sector Eight. I just need you to confirm that your government is aware of its existence and I don't need to take further action."
Another pause, followed by a thrown, and I was kicking up a storm now, feeling a little bit like a small child throwing a temper tantrum but also 100% a-okay with that. "Could you ask him why we have not been alerted? Surely it would be in your best interest to let us know, so we don't have to call you?"
I wonder who Anthea is, I thought to myself briefly. Obviously a member of the government, probably high up, but not too high up, she's doing somebody else's dirty work. But that was all I had chance to think before Troye hummed, put the phone down, turned to me and promptly frowned. "Are you kicking your legs? This is Sector Eight's finest?"
"Nah, I'm third. If you think I'm childish you would hate Mark. We don't send him to negotiations though," I was talking to myself now, I knew it, but he was still listening, so I didn't consider stopping. "People don't take too kindly to trying to come to a conclusion which both parties like when one of them has persuasion. I'm sure you can understand."
"I can," He looked surprised, but not hugely, and if he was extremely surprised then he was reeling it in. Still so businesslike, which was a shame, because I was going out of my way to not be. I'm not a business-y person. "And how do I know you don't have persuasion?"
"Oh, you'd know." It wasn't a complicated question to answer. I had grown some resistance to Mark's voice by now, but it was miniscule, and it only worked if he wasn't really trying. He was so strong at this point that even when he wasn't deliberately using it people were encouraged to agree with what he said, but you could tell when he was using it on you. "There's like... a tugging feeling, it's awful, like your body and your mind are not your own. I guarantee, if I was using it on you, you would know about it."
Troye didn't look like he fully believed me, but he looked at least a little bit at peace. You're can't trust many people in this business, of that I am fully aware, but when I am able to be honest I do my best to be. "Fine. Well, I suppose there's no reason to keep you, I have confirmation that you're not lying. You can leave."
"Oh, sweetie, I could have left anytime, I don't need your go ahead." Troye looked somewhat exasperated, but I could see the corners of his lips turning up, okay, I could see it, and I'm counting that as a win dammit. "Oh, by the way! There's a barrier, around Sector Eight. You can't even see it if you're not strong enough. So, whoever it was who got in, they're strong."
"Thanks," - Okay, that was a definite upturn of the lips, I knew I wasn't imagining that, I had self-confidence but I wasn't delusional - "But I already knew."
"Was that a hint of a joke just then?" I gasped, but really, it wasn't surprising that it had been he who had found us. There was no way to know if he was really the strongest here, but he was certainly strong, extremely so, and there was no reason to discredit that with disbelief. "No, no, don't you dare walk away. I heard that, you can't pass that off, Mr Serious, I know your secret, I am going to hold that over your head forever."
"It was lovely meeting you, Mr Oakley, you can go now." Troye simply shooed me away, and oh I liked him, already I liked him, and this was not going to be the last time I spoke to him, not a chance in hell. So I shook my head, still smiling, and flashed to look through the desk draws. There was something exhilarating about moving so rapidly, watching him slowly come to the realization of what was going on, but not anywhere near quick enough to do anything about it. Once I'd found a small piece of paper, which looked almost like a business card, I grabbed a pen and scribbled down my phone number, dropping it in front of him. Finally, I stilled, shooting him a smile and a wink as I turned on my heel.
"Likewise, Troye. Call me sometime, hmm?"
***
Felix was very satisfied when I returned to Sector Eight (he didn't actually say so, but he didn't say anything negative about the way I'd gone about the mission, which was pretty much his version of a pat on the back), and the work was busy, so it didn't actually become my main focus until slightly later. He didn't call, but that wasn't very surprising, so I didn't dwell on it much. Instead, I convinced Joe that a trip to Australia to pick up somebody from Sector Three was the best idea, and no, it would not end in inter-Sector war, gosh, calm down, Jesus. And then we were there, and I was running Troye out of his stuffy office (not the same one we'd been in, I was right about that, but it was still stuffy, how did one stand sitting in a space so devoid of all emotion or personal touch) and to the location where Joe was waiting for me.
To his credit, Troye didn't even look mildly surprised, only exasperated. He simply crossed his arms and glared, if a little weakly, and cast that glance in Joe's direction for only a second before becoming apparently convinced that the message had been sent, and if the look on Joe's face was anything to go by, it probably had been. "Tyler. Are you trying to start a war?"
"Ooh, we're on first name basis now?" I grinned, but he looked so impatient and to be honest, kind of stressed and tired, that I decided cutting to the chase was probably my best option right then. "It's my first day off in a while and I was wondering if you felt like grabbing some coffee."
Now he looked a little surprised, but still composed, always so composed, and it was immediately my main goal to see him at a loss. "You... you came to Australia because you had a day off and felt like coffee? Isn't Sector Eight in America?"
"Yeah well, teleporter's man, they're somewhat useful." I cheerfully remarked, which got me a small glare from Joe, but a small wave towards him seemed to be enough for him to get the message and pop back out of existence or whatever the fuck happens to him when he teleports. "And last time I was here, I found this little coffee shop, and the coffee was amazing, you've no idea."
Troye shook his head, but there was a telltale curve to his lips that he had no chance of getting away with, like it or not. The shine to his eyes was enough, even if the smile hadn't been there, and I silently awarded myself a gold star for getting him to look at me like that. "The last time we met I was trying to intimidate you, you know that, right? You're insane."
"I'm gay, there's a difference." I winked, immediately starting to walk in the direction of the coffee shop before he could even think about putting his walls back up, before he could begin to pretend he didn't want this at least a little bit. "And I'm sure the gay community would be very upset to hear you say that. Shame on you."
"I'll let them know I regret it next time we hold a meeting," He smiled, and there was something there, a little hint, and I nodded, I saw it, I knew what he was trying to let me know. I was observant when it counted, and here, right now, to be able to see the relaxation in his posture, the like hint of a smile on his lips, god, right now, it counted.
***
"So Jack and I met up with your boyfriend-in-training today," Mark mused randomly, setting himself down beside me in the meeting room. We were both early, myself because I had been deciding on a mission for later that day, and Mark because apparently he wanted to talk to me. We didn't need to be in our specified seats yet, and for that I was thankful, because I didn't need to be having this conversation anywhere near Felix, thank you very much. "He seemed almost upset to me."
"He still doesn't like us very much, even if he begrudgingly accepts our existence," I replied easily, thinking back to when I had actually met up with Troye on one of the (very infrequent) missions I went on with Mark. They had taken an almost immediate disliking to each other, Troye because for some reason he really didn't like persuasion, and Mark because he was obviously offended by that. Thus had followed a mission where I spent more time peacekeeping than actually completing the given mission. "Nice to know you're getting along better, though."
"He didn't try to suffocate me," Mark scoffed, narrowing his eyes slightly. I chuckled, recalling that particular escapade as being actually quite entertaining, if a little bit worrying. I hadn't actually asked Troye what his power was up until that point, and it only really hit me how strong he was when I figured out that he could control the very air I breathed. "Are we really going to count that as getting along?"
"With Troye? I count that as becoming best friends for life," I smiled, and Mark returned it, if reluctantly, and that was the end of that exchange. Neither of us mentioned that, actually, that wasn't all that far from the truth.
***
"It's one night," I emphasized, pouting at him as if that had ever worked in the past. Predictably, his expression didn't change in the slightest. "And it's not like you're going to be permanently marked or anything. Nobody you know will be there, everyone at Sector Eight already knows who you are-"
"Tyler." The word escaped his mouth as if it physically pained him to say it, which was a whole other level of entertaining. He looked like he just wanted to pass out. A part of me was proud that he didn't keep his guard up around me anymore, that he felt comfortable being relaxed in my company, but equally that could be just that I wore him down to the point he was physically incapable. "We're not dating. You know that. I'm not your boyfriend."
"But why can't you be?" I asked, allowing myself to be whiny, just this once, because I adored him, I cared about him so much, and he knew that, damn him, but he kept pushing me away, even though he didn't want to. If he told me no, if he just straightly told me that he didn't want this, then I would let it go. But the fact of the matter was that he didn't. "I don't understand why we can't be."
Troye's head fell into his hands as he rubbed his face, probably just to try to calm himself down. We'd had arguments like this before, not many, but we'd had them, and it was becoming a little irritating, because he never gave me a good answer. He always just passed it off, as if it didn't matter, but it did, it mattered to me, even if it didn't to him. "I'm the head of a major organization in Australia, Tyler. How many times is Joe going to piggyback you over here before he becomes sick of it? How many times am I going to skip out of my work to spend time with you before somebody starts to have a problem with it? God, what if something happens to me because of who you are? What if something happens to you because of who I am?"
"You're worth it." I said simply. I couldn't let it go, not this time, not anymore. I couldn't pretend that I cared about any of those things because I didn't, I just didn't, I just wanted to take the guy I was falling in love with to a valentines day ball and dance with him and love him, and I didn't care what anybody had to say or do about it. "To me, you're worth it."
Troye sighed, but he looked a bit taken aback, and I couldn't help being a little proud of that. He shook his head, gave that little smile that he gave when he couldn't allow himself to smile properly, and pulled me into a hug, sighing again into my ear. "One night, alright? But we're not dating. Not yet." He said as I opened my mouth to protest.
And that, that was okay. Because that wasn't a no, even if it wasn't a yes, it was a maybe, and it wasn't the kind of maybe your mother gave you to stop you asking for something which really meant no, it was an honest-to-god promise and I couldn't bring myself to protest. I just relaxed into the hug and, for once in my life, found myself thanking Felix for his tendency to give me the jobs he didn't want to do.
I still hate him though. Because fuck him, that's why.