formoftherapy | (no subject)

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The school database has the following information on Morian, Kite:

Home address and phone number, mother's name. In the event her mother can't be reached, there is a phone number listed for her brother, Eagle; the area code is for Los Angeles.

Records of her detentions (six) and suspensions (one).

Notes made by the school counselor during her freshman year, following her brother Kestrel's disappearance.

Grades--a solid B to B+ student; her attendance records indicate she could easily have As if she put in just a little more effort.

Last but not least, her class schedule:

Spanish 4, Young

English 11, Parker

Calculus, Acevedo

Lunch Period

Physics, Russell

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"Oh bullshit," Tony says contemptuously, but he does cast a glance back towards the stairs.

"I'll tell you if your lady friend approaches."

"Sherlock fucking Holmes, I swear sometimes you are not even a real person."

A silence falls into place around those words.

Patience is not Kite's virtue.

She starts up the stairs one at a time, keeping her steps as light as she can.

"Fuck," Tony says softly. "I..."

"She is attempting stealth," Sherlock breaks in coldly.

Softer still: "I'm sorry."

"Yes," Sherlock agrees, "you are."

Kite stops just short of the top. She can see them at last, but not quite hear them.

She opens and shuts her mouth twice before she manages, "We okay?"

(It's not what she meant to say. She meant to say 'you' or 'everything,' but 'we' is what she does say and she can't take it back.)

Tony looks from Kite to Sherlock, covers his face with his hands, and groans.

Sherlock snorts unsympathetically.

Kite looks back and forth between them, climbing the last few steps.

"Anybody gonna tell me what I'm missing here?"

"No," says Sherlock."

"aaaaaaaa," says Tony.

"Alright, then."

She doesn't sound particularly surprised or disappointed.

"You two take your time."

She goes down the stairs considerably faster.

"when will either of us stop fucking everything up"

Sherlock gently tugs Tony's hands away from his face. "None of that," he says sternly. Unwilling to look at the world just yet, Tony reburies his face in his clone's—his brother's—in Sherry's shoulder.

They stay like that for a while. Tony isn't counting.

Kite goes down to the bar, stopping just long enough to grab a bottle of water. (They know her too well here for her fake to do much good. She has to cross the city line for that to work.)

She pushes her way into the crowd on the dance floor, right up near the speakers. Her ears will be ringing clear into tomorrow and she doesn't care.

"Is... I mean, are we..."

"You are an idiot, but by now that is hardly a surprise. Go. Make your peace with Miss Morian."

Tony gives Sherlock a hug, quick but more desperate than he feels like admitting, and flees down the stairs. Sherlock stays in his dark corner and does not come out to watch.

When Tony sees Kite, he's glad of where she's standing. No way in hell will they be able to talk. He doesn't want to talk; he just wants to... be.

Kite has her head tipped back and is screaming along with the lyrics, though she can't hear her own voice.

She sees Tony coming out of the corner of her eye and turns to meet him. Her grin is crooked but friendly.

He grins back, relieved.

Above, Sherlock leans on the balcony railing in plain sight, watching the pair of them communicate without words. He finds it fascinating.

The impulse to throw something at Tony's head, he disregards as beneath him. Tony did not mean to say what he did. Tony can be a damn fool sometimes.

When he gets close enough, she slings an arm around his shoulders, half dancing with and half hugging him.

Her lips brush his cheekbone before she lets him go.

Tony grins, steps closer, wraps an arm around her waist, and gives her an affectionate kiss on the cheek. This is a language he has no problems with at all.

(Sherlock's hands tighten on the rail.)

Kite laughs, tilting her head to kiss him properly.

She takes old of his hand when she steps back, twirling under his arm.

Laughing right along, Tony twirls her again.

(He thinks about where he learned 'proper dancing', and doesn't look up. And then he does. He's not sure what to think of Sherry watching them in the open like that but he knows damn well what to think of the way Sherry is hanging onto the railing like it might try to run away.)

Kite learned proper dancing mostly from watching My Fair Lady with her mother on days she cut school.

After the twirl, her dancing slides into mosh; she rebounds off of neighboring dancers and back toward Tony.

(She does not even consider looking up. She isn't feeling that cruel.)

Tony catches her long enough to aim a kiss in the general direction of her face, just because he can.

Sherlock also remembers dance lessons. These, Tony was not interested in attending with him, but when he came home laughing and twirling an invisible lady, Tony demanded to know what all the fuss was about.

The kiss lands high on her cheek, nearly on the bridge of her nose.

One song shifts into another; her movements slow down, less frantic and more practiced. This is a song she knows, turns up until the speakers in her car shake.

She touches Tony briefly, grazes along his arm or hand in a way that looks accidental. (It isn't.)

Sherlock sees it, and knows Tony does. Tony sees it and doesn't even wonder if Sherlock does. Partly because he's too busy accidentally-on-purpose touching her right back, and partly because it's just obvious.

There are pieces that she's missing. There is more to either of these boys than she knows, and that doesn't surprise her because this is Sunnydale and there is more to everything here. She will figure it out, she will pull it apart and see how it ticks. Just not tonight.

(I brought all this,
so you can survive when law is lawless
feelings,
sensations that you thought was dead.
no squealing, remember--)

She catches his hand, pulls him hard into her so she can whisper-scream the rest of the line right into his ear: "--that it's all in your head."

Sherlock is thinking about the way she shapes the words, what they might mean to her. Tony is thinking about the line of her body and how comfortably his other hand fits into the curve of her waist as he tangles his fingers with hers and kisses the corner of her mouth.

Kite tilts her head to rest against his, touching from brow to jaw.

She hums along with the chorus and squeezes his hand.

Seen from the balcony above, it is a little bit beautiful.

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