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.*･｡. EFF IT! .*･｡.
————PILOT
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009.
KNIGHT IN SHINING ASSHOLE.
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━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━
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"I hear you're my knight in shining armour."
Sonny Penbrook had known of John Booker Routledge a long time. Almost as long as she'd lived in the Outer Banks.
But, if someone had told her he would climb through her bedroom window and scare the living shit out of her, Sonny wouldn't have believed them.
She would stand corrected.
"Holy shit!"
Okay, so maybe it was a poor move on John B's part.
Climbing the guttering didn't sound so bad, smacking one hand on the glass was honestly questionable, and maybe the whole clambering inside while no one was there should've had way more thought put into it. Because, when Sonny walked back after her shower and saw the figure of a boy perched on her window sill and waiting, she screamed.
Loudly. Really loudly.
Enough that her parents probably heard it from two floors down with the television turned up.
John B immediately jumped off the window sill and tried to make it over to her, waving his hands around to show her he posed no threat.
"Hey! Sh! Shut up—"
But then he tripped, sailing to the carpet with a thump, a low grunt passed his lips. That was going to hurt tomorrow.
"Ow," he mumbled with a face full of floor.
"...John B?"
John B slowly nodded, not having any effort to get up yet. His head was banging, although that was mostly because of the black eye Topper had given him. But her scream hadn't really helped him out either.
"Hi," he said.
Sonny scoffed, eyes narrowed.
Sure, maybe Sonny was kinda glad it was John B and not some psycho murderer — or somebody like Rafe Cameron, which had happened before (long story) — but that hardly made it any better.
When he went to stand, she pointed at him sternly. They both listened closely, to check if there were any movements from her parents downstairs.
Quiet.
That actually might have been the biggest blessing Sonny received all damn week.
Sonny quickly moved to close her door. It was a bit of an angry motion, slamming and not clicking, but again no one noticed. She slammed doors all the time. Her parents didn't question it much anymore. Maybe that was a good thing, if she could kill John B and no one would care — as long as it sounded like a slamming door.
"Sonny—"
She swung around, "What the fuck?"
He grimaced; "Thought you'd say that..."
"Why are you in my room?" Sonny hissed, arms crossed. When his eyes trailed to the window, hers followed. After a moment, her jaw dropped in realisation, "Did you climb up here? Are you serious?!"
"Uh..."
"What's wrong with you?!"
John B furrowed his brows and went to speak, but quickly shut his mouth, his face changing to a thoughtful look. Okay, she had him there.
It was weird of him. A random boy had climbed into her room without her knowing, could he blame her for being so pissed? John B shit his pants when he bumped into JJ in the kitchen past midnight, he couldn't fathom how he'd react if someone climbed through his window and waited for him. Maybe it wasn't the best idea he'd ever had. He debated how she'd react if he was to blame it on the beating he'd taken last night — from her friend, he might add. Would she believe it? If he said that was why he was acting strange? Stranger than usual? Would she call bullshit?
He'd heard Sonny Penbrook was smart. Probably enough that she would see right through him.
But in his defence, a very weak and futile one, he hadn't a way to warn her that he planned to drop by. He hadn't any better way of seeing her, either. Topper had nearly drowned him and then JJ pointed a gun at his head, so John B could hardly waltz through Kook territory and knock on her door, acting like nothing had happened.
Not without getting jumped.
And, while John B wasn't afraid of Kooks, he didn't really feel like dying — not when he had a tight schedule, with all their plans to scuba dive.
He was busy.
Busy, busy, busy — so busy.
Really, he was fitting this visit in around other commitments he had. Because, after hearing what Sonny had done for him last night, he thought he owed it to her.
He had no other way to contact her. It wasn't like he had her number, and cell towers in the Cut were down anyway, and so, really, this was his only option. Well— he could have stayed quiet and said nothing at all. Or just waited until her face next popped up in public. Which, now John B thought about it, was totally obvious. Jesus, the boy cursed it silently, talk about embarrassing.
His cheeks tinged red.
"Yeah."
"...yeah?" She repeated bluntly.
John B resisted the urge to groan. He suddenly wished he wasn't as impulsive as his father always said.
"I did... y'know— climb," he spat out awkwardly.
Sonny glared, "Why?"
"I had to talk to you," John B shrugged his shoulders and leant against the window, rubbing his sore side. It hurt from where he hit the floor.
"You had to talk to me?"
"Yup."
"So you climbed through my window?"
He nodded slowly.
John B's father always said he was a talker, too. And it was true. He was better at smooth talking his way out of things than he was at feeding himself most days. But John B hadn't stopped to think about who it was he was speaking to, right now. While he had the reputation of being a social butterfly on the south side, the lowest of the food chain but knowing literally everyone, Sonny was the opposite.
It was almost impossible to find someone more different to him in that respect. She was the top of the food chain, and somehow antisocial as hell.
"Well, I didn't really feel like being drowned in your sink, you know? If I got caught," he said. Judging by the way his eyes glanced over at her window, he was meaning Topper. It wasn't tough to tell. "You should really keep that thing on a leash, you know."
Sonny shrugged, "I don't claim him."
She meant it.
John B arched a brow.
Shaking her head, Sonny pushed a hand through her hair and glanced at John B's eye. It was swollen, and purple, and looked like it hurt like a bitch.
"Did you put any ice on that?" She asked him.
"Frozen peas count?" He replied.
"Whatever, I'm not a doctor..." Sonny muttered. "At least you're not dead, I guess."
"Thanks to you," John B pushed his hands into the pockets of his shorts. Sonny quickly realised his shirt was unbuttoned, and she pulled a face. He was easy on the eyes, but she wasn't into Pogues — no matter how toned. "JJ said you dragged me out when I went under, so..."
"Only 'cause your friends are dumb as shit."
For a second, he was offended. Then he thought about it.
"You ain't wrong."
This was weird. She had never really spoken to John B, not for this long. Although, he was the Pogue that she'd had most interaction with over the years — but, in the last two days, JJ might have taken the biscuit. JJ Maybank was everywhere, it was exhausting dealing with him.
Why was she thinking about JJ?
"Is there a real reason you're here, John Booker?" Sonny asked him, looking the boy up and down suspiciously. It had him shifting uncomfortably, "Or did you just happen to climb through my window in passing...?"
"I came to thank you," he told her.
"You've thanked me," she deadpanned. "I guess you can leave me alone now."
John B cleared his throat and nodded, "Yeah— yeah, yeah, uh, totally. I'll, uh— get going..."
"Okay."
Slowly, he turned his body to the window and rested his palms on the edge of it. She watched with a brow quirked. Perhaps he was a secretly theatrical character, and she just never guessed it, but Sonny didn't expect John B would be such a melodramatic asshole.
For a second, it looked like he was going to leave. Like he would walk back to his life in the south side, his crap chalet and his questionable friends, but instead he released a loud and dramatic sigh, letting go of the window frame to turn, pointing a finger in the air.
"Okay. Fine," he finally admitted, "Maybe I came to do more than thank you..."
"You're not gonna kiss me, are you?"
He blinked.
"No, no; of course not."
Following his words, John B pondered it. He gave the back of his neck a scratch, smiling at her, sneaky and coy.
"I mean, not unless you—"
"I'd rather die," Sonny said, bluntly.
"Noted."
When she rolled her eyes and looked at him, expecting some form of elaboration, John B boy cleared his throat. For a split second, he thought her saw her lips twitch at the corner, but it was gone before he could be certain.
"JJ said he talked to you, today." His words made her roll her eyes a second time. John B rushed to fix it, "Knowing JJ, you didn't really talk, but that's not the point—"
"Do you have a point, John Booker?" She spoke stiffly.
He sighed.
"Look, Sonny— if you don't wanna come join our plan tonight, or ever, that's totally fine."
Sonny squinted, "You really think that?"
It didn't seem very John B of him. Sonny had half expected him to try and convince her to go with them, and to pull out all the stops in doing it.
There had to be some kinda catch.
"I think you wanna come with, deep down..." he shrugged his shoulders, trying to sound impartial. "I think you wanna know what happened to Scooter that night..." John B took a step closer, moving towards her slowly. Sonny scowled, but it didn't look like she was moving away. "But I also think you've got too much to lose."
For a short moment, Sonny was surprised.
Protect your bubble.
"You don't know me," she glared.
"I know you better than JJ, than the others."
His words were true and that bugged her. She didn't like where this was heading. Couldn't he learn to just shut his stupid ass mouth?
"Is that right?"
"They don't get it." John B drawled, "Sure, you play your whole I don't care crap — and they all fall for it, but not me. I don't buy it," he continued, "I'm not gonna try and convince you to come with us tonight, but I am gonna ask you to do a favour for me instead."
"I don't owe you shit."
"But I owe you for saving my ass," John B said, "It can be a mutually exclusive benefit."
After a moment, Sonny sighed; "What is it?"
"You can't tell anyone about this."
This? As in the boat?
Did he really think she was a loudmouth?
She wasn't Sarah Cameron, she wasn't Topper. She wasn't any kind of blabber. Who would she even tell? Her parents?The cops? Sonny didn't speak to anybody, he knew that. And yet, for whatever reason, he doubted it.
"I can only imagine you got to the motel the same way we did, and cops like to call that breaking and entering." John B shrugged. Was he trying to blackmail her? If so, then he was doing a terrible job at it.
"I know what breaking and entering is, asshole."
"Look Sonny, if word gets out, I'm fucked." John B ignored her comment, a serious expression on his face. She had never seen John B look like that before and it made her stomach stir uncomfortably. Perhaps he was blackmailing her. "And so are you. So just stay quiet— alright?"
"I'm fucked?" Sonny echoed incredulously.
He nodded his head in response.
She took a daring step forward, the toes of their matching converse inches apart.
"Incase you haven't noticed, Booker, I'm not the one with a repeat record. You get caught by cops— I get out of it. Before they can find me," Sonny watched his face closely, a new and unusual feeling crawling up her spine when his eyes glinted at the words my parents. Like he understood something about her that no one else did. "I think you should worry about you and all your shitty little friends getting into trouble, and not about whatever it is you think you know about me. Because you don't know me half as much as you think you do,"
"I don't care if the cops find out about this," he said, "But the minute they call DCS? Shit's over for me. They'll throw me into foster care on the mainland, and—" John B let out a big breath, "That can't happen— alright?"
For the first time since their conversation had started, John B's words had struck her.
And they struck her hard.
Sonny's shoulders slouched and she scooted back, an inch. John B saw the creases in her forehead relax and her posture falter. Because in that moment, the two of them realised that they did know each other. John B knew her, and Sonny knew him. All too well, in fact.
"DCS want you on the mainland?"
Just like that, all the tension evaporated.
The two stepped away from each other, bodies no longer tense and rigid, like they had never even been in the heated discussion to begin with.
They mellowed out, almost naturally; like the pair were in perfect sync.
"They're all over my ass, Sonny." He sighed, dragging his hand over his face. "I got lucky with Agatha, you know. But, but they won't just forget about it."
She pursed her lips, tightly.
"How long?"
"Months," John B revealed, "I've been tryna get them off my back for months. But I don't think they're gonna hold off much longer." He huffed in irritation, "Assholes."
As if they had been friends for years, John B slumped over to her bed and threw himself onto it, resting his elbows on his knees. The boy looked lost, which was strange. He had never looked lost before. John B was the kid that always seemed like he knew what he was doing. Reckless, but in control. Leading his band of Pogues to prosperity.
Not many kids were like John B.
Actually, only one kid was like John Booker.
Sonny Penbrook.
"Shit," she muttered quietly.
The realisation was jarring. They weren't anything alike — not really. But they were, at the very same time. Sonny was a Kook and he was a Pogue, she had a nice house and he lived in a shack. They were different, and yet they were actually so the same. Very much, so.
John B's parents were absent. She knew his mother wasn't around, his father was gone, and his uncle wasn't keeping an eye on him like expected. His uncle was on the mainland — everyone knew that — but John B had this knack for getting people to believe him. DCS had believed his uncle was with him. For a short while, at least.
While Sonny had herself loving foster parents that weren't absent, she knew how John B felt. Sonny's biological mother had passed when she was little and her biological father had surrendered her to DSC — for her own good, but still. That messed up a kid, even if she'd hardly known her real parents before DCS stepped in, even if she got to see her father now that he was better.
She still understood him.
Because there were days Sonny could barely get out of bed. Stuck in the grief of losing her biological mother, the pain of spending years in foster care. Sonny knew life in the system, it lingered even now, and it wasn't easy.
Sonny was the one kid in the Outer Banks that understood what it was like to be a foster kid. And that meant Sonny was the only one to get John B Routledge.
"If I get into serious trouble, now, they're gonna take me." His eyes flickered over to hers, "And I know they could take you away, too."
Dammit.
Everybody who knew Sonny or the Penbrook's knew Sonny had been a foster kid. It was pretty obvious. But not many of them knew that she was fostered — not adopted. Which meant that, technically, DCS had every right to put her back in care if it looked like they weren't looking after her quite right. She was under eighteen, after all, so there was always that chance. No matter how many years they had loved her and cared for her, she could lose it all — and Sonny had no intention to. It was good where she was. With the Penbrook's, the OBX, the stupid hurricane and all.
Sonny couldn't lose it because she got caught doing dumb shit, like hiding vital information about Scooter Grubs' death.
She wouldn't lose it.
Even if Ed and Natasha didn't care to adopt her.
Why hadn't they adopted her?
The thought made her angry.
Sonny's lips pressed together roughly, hand tapping on her thigh. John B watched.
She hated that he did understand her, to an extent. Sure, he hadn't gone into care yet, but he knew what would happen when he did. He would be shipped off to a family on the mainland until he was eighteen. Far from the island, from the Pogues, from any chance of his father coming back. And yeah, maybe it would be better for him. Sonny had found the best family ever. John B knew that, but he didn't want a family at all. He wanted to stay where he was.
What if his dad was alive? What if he returned but John B wasn't there? What then?
"Okay," Sonny eventually said.
He blinked.
"Okay?"
A sigh passed Sonny's lips, trying to figure out what to say. She was never good at comforting people. Even with Topper, when he got upset about his mother's neglect since his father had gone. Sonny lacked the ability to make people feel better about things, so she didn't really try to. Instead she made her way over to her bed to sit down beside him.
Their shoulders bumped slightly, making John B throw her a playful glare. Sonny returned it.
"I'll keep my mouth shut," she spoke after a moment, "I'm no snitch, John Booker. Just... don't get yourself in too deep."
John B nodded, smiling at her softly.
"DCS won't find out," she promised him.
He agreed, "DCS won't find out."
And thus, their little agreement was made.
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