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juniperwindsong · 4 years

Text

Necessary Monsters (10/16)

Summary: "What kind of gentleman would I be if I let your first day here be all misery?" "I thought you were a dragonologist now, not a gentleman." "They're not mutually exclusive."

His first week in Romania, Felix had been diligent about scourgifying himself after every shift. But magic, it seemed, had a harder time sluicing off dragon-related filth, and the spell never seemed to catch it all, leaving a distinct outdoors-y smell and a crusty stain about his clothes. More importantly, dirt and grime seemed to be a badge of honour here. Felix quickly discovered only newcomers and theoretical researchers, both regularly mocked by the resident dragonologists, bothered to clean themselves more than once a day. Desperate to fit in, Felix had learned to relax some of his more fastidious habits. Which is why it takes him nearly fifteen minutes of frantic searching to finally locate his long-disused bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion at the bottom of an old trunk.

Grey pre-dawn light meanders across the dingy bathroom mirror as Felix applies liberal amounts of the potion to his hair, refusing to think too deeply about why. He pulls the nicer of his summer work shirts over his head, attempts to charm the worst of the wrinkles out of his trousers, and even spends a few minutes bent over his boots before he's forced to give them up as a lost cause. It would take days to remove all the layers of mud and muck.

Felix stares at his newly groomed reflection, nerves chewing a hole in the lining of his stomach. All he's done is dress himself up for disappointment, he thinks ruthlessly. His best has never been enough to impress Juniper, not for the results he wants, anyway. And he ought not to be attempting to impress her at all. She's coming here with Charlie Weasley, she's made her feelings about Felix clear, and that's all there is to it.

Anxiety wrings the last of Felix's confidence from him like a dishrag. Suddenly the prospect of seeing Juniper arrive with that ridiculous red-head is unbearable, and, in spite of the fact that he's woken at the crack of dawn on his day off specifically to greet Juniper as soon as she arrives, Felix flees the flat.

The sun is just beginning to warm the hard ground as Felix walks, quickly as dignity will allow, down the Reserve's main path toward the modest cul-de-sac of buildings. Better sense commands him not to glance across at the long-abandoned Hospital cottage. He looks anyway. The windows are as dark and disused as they've been all year, but the observation does nothing to settle his writhing nerves. Juniper might be in the main building, the same one he's headed for, receiving instructions from Guivré. The Romanian Reserve Director doesn't believe in staff meetings or long-winded introductions, but Juniper might take it upon herself to explore the building, make friends with the other dragonologists as soon as she can. That's the sort of thing she would do.

Felix's heart is pounding in his ears as he enters the building and nearly sprints through the mercifully-empty halls. He reaches his cramped office without meeting anyone, and sinks into the wobbly chair, panting slightly. There's sweat beading Felix's brow, and a lone strand of dark hair escapes his severe part. He tucks it back into place, and wonders how on Earth he's supposed to work under these conditions.

Perhaps Juniper won't stay at the Reserve long, Felix thinks as he starts on the paperwork mountain Rashbold has left piled on the desk; none of the other healers have. But the wish has no real will behind it. Juniper has never been one to shy away from a challenge. And the little pangs of terror the thought inspires reluctantly confirm to Felix that he still wants Juniper here, in spite of her unwelcome companion.

Taking a long, slow breath Felix forces composure through his limbs. Allowing himself to ruminate on the whole bloody mess is pointless, and sours his stomach. Forgoing enchantment, he fixes his eyes on the typewriter and uses his fingers to depress the keys manually. It's a slow, laborious process, but it keeps his feelings at bay and his mind from wandering. Felix turns the entirety of his attention to typing up Rashbold's report from yesterday, then the one from the day before. He works until his hand hits desk instead of parchment, and he's surprised to find he's already come to the end of the stack.

A low rumble of voices echoes from down the hall, and a quick glance at his pocket watch reveals the morning is almost over. When means, Felix realizes with a lurch, Juniper must be really, truly here. He's just wondering where she might be now when the light from the hall is suddenly blocked by a tall figure in a distinctive hat.

“Rosier? What are you doing here?” asks Grahame from the doorway. “Thought you were off today?”

"I was just catching up on paperwork," Felix says quickly, feeling oddly guilty, as though he were caught doing something forbidden. " We were about to lose the desk under it."

“Yeah, well, you might think about catching up on sleep. You’ve got circles like a coon.”

A year ago, the comparison would have meant nothing to Felix, but he’s spent enough time with the Reserve's resident American to become accustomed to his colourful turns of phrase. He manages a brittle smile.

"I'll think about it."

“How 'bout some coffee then?"

"Oh. Well, if you have some to spare." Felix tries to keep his voice from sounding to eager, though he stands so fast the chair legs rattle.

" 'Course." Grahame pushes off from the doorframe and saunters down the hall to his own slightly larger office, Felix just behind him. "I'm brewing way too much in the morning now, since you took off." He flashes an accusatory look over his shoulder. "Still can't believe you did that. I mean, I know McFusty had everyone riled up about your family for a while, but they'll get bored of it. You didn't have to run and hide."

Grahame nudges open the door of his office, and Felix follows him inside stiffly. This isn't the first time he's had to bite his tongue around Grahame's thoughtless comments. One of the outspoken American's favorite pastimes is voicing observations better kept to himself. Not the sort of person Felix would typically have any patience for, but Grahame has other qualities to make up for his tactlessness; namely, a never-ending supply of strong coffee and a generous nature.

Grahame sets his hat on the desk next to a large thermos, and rummages about in a drawer for a cup.

"I don't get all this bad blood between y'all anyway. I mean, it's not like you're one of those....what do you call 'em? Death speakers? It's-"

"Grahame," interrupts Felix tightly. He keeps his eyes fixed on the thermos of coffee, praying to it for patience. "Drop it. Please." In spite of his best effort, the words come out far too frosty to be considered polite. But rudeness runs off the American like rain from the rim of his hat. Grahame merely shakes his head and pours coffee from the thermos into the spare cup.

"I reckon you know best," Grahame concedes. He hands the cup to Felix who takes it with a nod of thanks and inhales the comfortingly scalding steam. "But I'm still sorry you're stuck in the shit shacks. Although..." Grahame's eyes suddenly light up slyly. "Guess this means you'll be seeing more of our new healer."

Felix's throat constricts tightly. His first sip of coffee is left swimming between his teeth as he tries to remember how to swallow. "Oh," he mumbles noncommittally when his mouth is free again. For once, he's grateful for Grahame's inability to pick up on social cues.

"Yep. Just got here this morning. Go by the med cottage when you have a chance and take a look. She's a peach."

Felix nearly drops his cup.

"Just out of school I think," continues Grahame, entirely oblivious to Felix's tightening jaw. "Can't be more than 18. We'll finally have something to look at besides McFusty. I know Sigeburt and Gil have already asked her to drinks, and there's money on who she says yes to first. I think Alexei's got the pot if you're interested. Personally, my bet's on - Hey! You're not going to finish your coffee?" Grahame calls after Felix's rapidly retreating back.

Felix speeds down the gravel walk toward the hospital cottage, all pretense of cool indifference gone. The blood pounding in his ears keeps time with his feet as his brain scolds him for being eleven kinds of moron. Why, oh why, did this never occur to him? He's been around the pub enough to know the lack of girls makes up a large proportion of the casual conversation among the predominately male dragonologists. Of the three female dragonologists present at the Reserve, two manage to keep themselves from intense scrutiny by their advanced age and the third -

Felix skids to a halt to avoid crashing into the stocky, muscular body and long red braid of the Reserve's youngest female dragonologist as she steps out of the hospital cottage's doorway. Instinct, recognising the impending danger, peddles his feet back just a step before dignity demands he stand his ground, matching the emerald eyes glare for glare.

"Rosier."

"McFusty."

The woman's eyes flicker into twin green flames as if Felix's cool pronunciation of her name were a grievous insult. "What do you want?" she asks fiercely, crossing her arms and planting herself in the doorway as if to block his entrance.

Felix smirks. The presence of his least favorite person at the Reserve gives his anxiety a purpose and a target. Enemies, he knows how to handle.

"To see our new healer, of course," he replies with perfect innocence. "But only if you're quite finished. I'm sure you need her assistance far more than I. Didn't your last attempt at anti-venom cause an outbreak of boils?"

McFusty's nostrils flare in such an accurate impression of the Hebridean Blacks she cares for that Felix wouldn't be surprised if actual sparks shot from them. She whips her head around to call over her shoulder into the cottage, "This'll be one of those unsavoury types I mentioned. Do let me know if he bothers you," McFusty meets Felix's eyes once more as she finishes, "I'll be happy to hex him a new hole."

Satisfied with the last word, McFusty steps out of the cottage, careful to bump hard into Felix's shoulder on her way down the walk. Felix contents himself with another superior smirk. He watches the angry red-head out of the corner of his eye as she marches away, years of experience reminding him just how possible a parting hex might be.

"What was that about?" calls a voice from inside the building that drives McFusty entirely from Felix's mind.

Excitement bubbling in his chest, Felix steps into the dimly lit cottage and jumps back hastily when the floor crunches under his feet. Waiting for his eyes to adjust to the change in light, Felix squints at the ground, then around the building's one large room. He wonders how it earned the generous title of "cottage" when "dilapidated shack" would be more accurate. Everything he can see appears to be dusty or broken or a combination of the two. What had appeared in the darkness to be piles of garbage carpeting the floor turn out, in fact, to actually be piles of garbage. There's hardly a wooden floorboard that isn't buried under cracked and broken jars and bottles, rotten bouquets of dried herbs and plants, or crushed, empty boxes. And sitting cross-legged in the middle of the rubble, like a queen surveying her unruly subjects, is Juniper.

For all his apprehension about this very moment, Felix can't stop elation surging through him as he takes in the sight. Juniper, in her trademark jeans and jumper (Slytherin green, he notes), here, in the same place as him, after all this time. Somehow, it's both soothing and exciting, and Felix wishes he could be allowed to just quietly enjoy her presence for a few minutes. But Juniper's watching him expectantly, head cocked to the side, the wand she's stuck through her loose bun wobbling slightly, and he realizes he hasn't answered her question.

"It's...nothing," replies Felix belatedly. He can hear the slight tremor of joy in his voice and struggles to keep his face impassive. Juniper doesn't appear to notice. She leans across a small pile of uncorked bottles to scribble something on a roll of parchment nearly two feet long.

"Well, if you're here for burn salve or anti-venom or...anything really it'll just have to wait," she says testily, without looking up. "Every single thing in here is either empty or unlabeled, it's going to take me at least a week to sort through it all. And all the ingredients are gone off as well, so there's no way to make anything till I've got more. I'm making up a list now, and I'll get it to Guivré just as soon as I can but I don't know how quickly the post runs here, so I really can't give you a time estimate." She runs a distracted hand through her hair, dust leaving a faint white streak.

Felix's lips twitch of their own accord. He clears his throat into his hand to hide them.

"You'd do better to send off for anything you need yourself and then file for reimbursement. You'll get it a good deal faster. Guivré's a hard person to track down and he doesn't consider paperwork a priority. Anything you leave in his office could very well sit there for months."

"Alright then," says Juniper, voice noticeably bereft of her characteristic cheer. She gets to her feet, neatly avoiding the toppling piles of rubbish propped against her, and rolls up her parchment. "I'll do it myself. I don't suppose you could point me to the post office? The bloke who showed me in took my owl from me. He said something about them not being allowed to fly here?"

"Yes, there's no loose owls allowed on the Reserve. They have to be kept at the Post Office and flown in designated areas. Apparently, they used to fly over the dragon habitats and get eaten. Cost the Reserve a fortune in recompense." Felix trails away when he realises Juniper hasn't heard a word. She’s turning round in a circle, eyes on the floor, kicking aside debris with increasingly frantic movements. "Have you lost something?"

"My wand," Juniper exclaims angrily, now patting the pockets of her dust-covered jeans. She lets out a groan of frustration when she finds nothing. Carefully circumventing a pile of jagged glass, Felix steps forward and plucks the wand from the back of Juniper's hair. He offers it to her, failing to keep the amusement from his eyes and mouth. Juniper snatches it away from him, face flushed with shame or anger, he isn't sure which.

"You seem...bothered," Felix comments, taking care not to smile.

"It's just... been a long morning." Juniper rubs the bridge of her nose and sighs deeply. "People've been in and out since I got in. Half of them want things I don't have and get pissed when I don't have it, like they thought I would show up with an endless supply of potions in tow? And then the other half don't even need anything, they just want to ask me questions about the Cursed Vaults or my brother or whether I'm currently seeing anyone!" She wrinkles her nose in disgust. "Like that's the first thing I'm thinking about! It's my first day at my first job, I've not had time to change or eat or use the bloody toilet, but yes, let me choose a dinner companion."

Felix's tightly coiled tension unwinds, and for the first time that morning he's able to relax. A distant part of him registers guilt that he wasn't there to help make Juniper's arrival more hospitable, but that can be easily improved, now he's confident none of the dragonologists will be winning the betting pool anytime soon.

"Has no one showed you around yet?"

Juniper shakes her head. "No. Guivré had some bloke take my things from me at the gate and then led me straight here."

"Well then," Felix relieves Juniper of her roll of parchment and gestures to the door. "Let me give you the grand tour."

"What?" Juniper meets his eyes, and Felix wonders if he's imagining wariness in them. "That's - really ok. I'm sure you've got loads to do, and I should probably stay and sort through this mess."

"It's been sitting like this for nearly a year, it'll wait another few hours," Felix assures her. When she continues to look uncertain, he adds wryly, "What kind of gentleman would I be if I let your first day here be all misery?" And with mock solemnity, Felix offers Juniper his arm.

Juniper blinks. The harassed expression fades, and her eyes twinkle with something more like her usual humour.

"I thought you were a dragonologist now, not a gentleman."

"They're not mutually exclusive."

Felix winks, and a familiar smile spreads slowly up the side of Juniper's face.

"Very well," she replies, taking his arm with excessive ceremony. "Lead on."

Their first stop is the Post Office, where Juniper confirms her owl is settled and is able to send off her list of necessary ingredients to Diagon Alley. Then a short perambulation around the cul-de-sac allows Felix to point out the shop, the pub, and the mess.

"There's three meals a day offered there. It's all free, but it tastes it. I recommend the pub whenever possible."

Juniper's head swivels about following Felix's finger as he names each building.

"Is this it then?" she asks as he leads her onto the path leading to the dragon habitats.

"Yes, apart from the flats. They're on the opposite side of the village."

"Five buildings constitutes a village?"

"You were expecting Hogsmeade?"

"No, not exactly. I guess I just thought...I don't know... that it'd be bigger. Isn't it the largest dragon sanctuary in the world?"

Felix chuckles. "Yes, it is. The largest dragon sanctuary not dragonologist sanctuary. Most of the land is dedicated to the dragon habitats. There's at least two of every known dragon species living here, and they each need several leagues of land to be comfortable and to safely kept from each other. Dragons don't play well together."

"I see," Juniper says, nodding absently. She's fallen a bit behind Felix, constantly turning side to side to take in the scenery.

"It's beautiful here," she observes and Felix feels as puffed with pride as though he had cultivated the landscape himself.

"Yes," he agrees. "There's a bit of everything here. Terrain to suit each dragon. Over that way's the mountain where they keep the Longhorns and the Shortsnouts. And the valley on the other side are for the Opaleyes. There's even an enormous lake for the Ridgeback."

"Where do the Peruvian Viperteeth live?" asks Juniper eagerly.

"Vipertooths is the appropriate plural," Felix corrects. "And our habitat's just up the path there. It's hills mostly, with a small wooded area. They tried to cultivate a miniature jungle there, but whoever was responsible for it had never actually seen a jungle before so it's really just an eclectic forest."

"Can I see them?" The bubbling excitement in Juniper's voice is too much for Felix to maintain his staid self-control, and he laughs. He can't remember the last time he laughed like this, warm and full and real.

"Where do you think I'm taking you?"

The prospect of seeing dragons lends speed to Juniper's feet until she's practically skipping next to a still-chuckling Felix. They turn off the path, and Felix leads the way to the hidden paddock.

Juniper's face is pressed nearly flat against the window, as she searches every direction for a sign of a bronze dragon.

"She's bound to come back this way soon," Felix reassures. "There's more tree cover over here and she prefers to stay in the shade once it's gets too warm in the afternoons."

They stand together quietly for a moment watching the tree line, so close their shoulders almost touch. Each time Juniper turns her head, the smell of lavender and that other scent Felix can never identify wafts toward him. Something hot kindles to life in his lower abdomen but before it can become too distracting Juniper's curiousity comes to the rescue.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," says Felix in relief.

"What is it you actually do? I mean... in Peru you were running around chasing dragons, stopping them from eating people and everything, and I assume you're not doing that anymore. So, what do you do here?"

The question confuses Felix at first, until he remembers how little they've communicated in the last year. He adopts the old self-assured voice he always used when tutoring younger students.

"Well, there's two resident dragonologists to each dragon breed, and we're responsible for their upkeep: feeding them, keeping them healthy, preventing them from escaping. We get a team of assistants but that changes regularly, everything pretty much falls to us. We take notes about their behaviour and write down basically everything that happens with them each day and keep it on file so other dragonologists and magizoologists can use it for research. We've also nearly always got some sort of researcher that needs access to the dragons for a paper or experiment or whatnot and they want looking after and questions answered. It's quite a bit more paperwork than being a dragonologist in the field."

"Interesting," murmurs Juniper, now watching Felix instead of the window.

"Really?" he asks, cursing the hated blush that colours his cheeks.

"Of course. You never really think about that side of it, do you? That being a Dragonologist is more than just stunning spells and dodging flame. Most people think-"

A rush of whistling wind interrupts Juniper before she can explain what most people think, and she turns to the window eagerly.

"Look up," Felix tells her. Juniper's nose hits the glass as she cranes her neck to watch the copper-coloured dragon descend at a breathtaking pace onto the sloping hill in front of them. Felix spares a quick glance at the dragon to determine which it is before returning his gaze to Juniper, watching with satisfaction as her mouth falls slightly open.

"It's gorgeous," she breathes, hands now pressed against the window beside her face, as if she might feel the warm scales through the enchanted glass.

"She."

"She?"

Felix nods. "That's a female. You can tell by the small ridge of spikes around her eyes. I caught her terrorizing a little village near the Pacaya-Samiria reserve."

"You caught her?" Juniper asks in awed disbelief.

"Well, my team and I."

Outside the paddock, the sparkling dragon stretches her wings leisurely and wriggles her long snake-like body from snout to tail as if shaking off dust. She slithers regally toward the tangled trees near the paddock, and wraps herself around a large trunk.

"Can we go see her?' Juniper asks eagerly.

"Not unless you'd like to lose a limb. I'm afraid Gen's particularly bloodthirsty."

"Her name's Gen?"

"It's short for Genièvre.”

"Where does that come from?" asks Juniper curiously, but before Felix has to think up a suitable excuse, movement registers out of the corner of his eye.

He and Juniper both turn to inspect the small group of wizards now trotting down the hill from the direction the dragon had come. Felix recognizes Rashbold leading a team of assistants, each dragging bulky sacks behind them. He's about to explain the glamourous world of the Reserve's dragon dung trade when Juniper cries, "Charlie!" and waves frantically at one of the sack-laden assistants. All Felix's high spirits deflate as he recognises the flaming hair.

"He can't hear you," he tells her brusquely. "The glass is enchanted. We can see out but they can't see in."

"Oh, too bad. I hope his first day's better than mine."

Felix retreats to the back of the paddock and leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching Juniper watch Charlie cart his sack down the hill toward the habitat's entrance. From here it doesn't look like the Weasley boy has changed much in appearance. He's still quite short, Felix's notes with a savage pleasure, but there's no denying he's exceptionally well-built for his size. First Barnaby, now Weasley; Juniper clearly has a type.

"So," asks Felix unsure whether it's courage or weakness that prompts the question. "You and Charlie are..."

When he can't complete his sentence, Juniper turns curiously. "Are what?"

Felix can feel his face heat and looks down, feigning interest in the tops of his boots. "Together?"

"What, you mean like together together?" Juniper giggles, a gossiping school-girl sort of sound. "No, of course not."

The answer is entirely unexpected. Hope flickers to life inside Felix like a candle flame, but he refuses to let it warm him.

"Really?" he replies skeptically. "You just came here together by coincidence, then?"

"Well, no it's not exactly a coincidence.I mean, we're friends. Well, the sort of friends that when Charlie found out where I'd applied he threatened to jinx me if I didn't ask about a job for him as well."

"Sounds like he really wanted to work with you," presses Felix, and Juniper laughs again, a comfortable laugh as if he'd told an old favorite joke.

"You clearly don't know Charlie," she says between chuckles. Catching sight of Felix's flat expression, Juniper calms herself enough to explain. "Look, you know how some guys like girls and some guys like guys? Well, Charlie just likes dragons. That's all he ever thinks about, every day, all the time. That's why we got to be such good friends, actually. All our other friends got to be obsessed with dating and romance and for a while it was like you couldn't ever hang out with anyone without wondering if they really liked you or wanted to secretly date you or something. It was exhausting. But with Charlie I never had to worry about that and he never had to worry about that with me, so we could just study in peace."

It's as though the storm clouds over Felix's head have parted and the sun is shining on him fully for the first time in months. He feels lighter than air, and his breathing is full and easy. A weight has been lifted off his chest he didn't know he'd been carrying. Too late, he realises he's grinning and he can't switch it off. Juniper's notices as well.

"What's so funny?" she asks, mirroring his smile automatically.

Felix ignores her question. Instead, he grabs her hand, pulling her away from the window and toward the exit. Joy has gifted him a brilliant idea, and he can't wait even a second to put it into action.

"There's something I want you to see."

“Are we nearly there?”

“Nearly.”

“That's what you said twenty minutes ago,” Juniper grumbles, but Felix can hear the laughter in it.

“And it was true then, too.” Felix races down the winding path that leads to the deeper dragon habitats, Juniper in tow. When the trees disappear entirely and the hills grow higher and sharper, he speeds up.

“Felix, come on, my legs are killing me.”

“It's just up this hill, I promise." His grin feels like it might sprout wings and fly off his face and Juniper can’t help but laugh at it as she clambers up the hill behind him.

"Merlin's Beard, Felix, this had better be worth-"

Juniper stops abruptly as she reaches the hill top. She stares down at the other side, eyes very wide.

“Is that...“

“Yes,” says Felix softly. Juniper presses a hand tightly to her mouth.

Below them, a dragon trots gaily across the grass chasing what appears from the colour to be an enchanted quaffle. A wizard nearby directs the progress of the ball with his wand, and the large green dragon follows it closely. Every few paces, it leaps into the air, catching wind under it's right wing and gliding forward to snap long white fangs at the ball before landing back onto the ground gracefully. It tosses its emerald head and emits a musical snort like a trumpet call.

"Sparky..." Juniper's voice is thick and wet, and Felix realises with an ebb of his high-spirits that tears are streaming down her face.

"Are you crying?" The question tumbles from him as soon as he thinks it, before he can register how stupid it sounds. It's obvious she's crying, what isn't obvious is why. And though Felix casts around frantically for a reason, he can't come up with anything that makes sense.

"Yes," Juniper replies wiping roughly at her eyes with her sleeve. "Sorry. It happens a lot more now than it used to."

"But what...what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong...I promise. I'm just..." A choked sob prevents any more coherent explanation. Felix can only stand helplessly while Juniper sobs loudly into her hands, Sparky still prancing below them.

"I'm sorry," Felix offers, though the words feel wholly inadequate and he isn't even sure what he ought to be sorry for. "I thought you'd like to see him."

Juniper shakes her head quickly, trying to speak through her tears. "I would...I mean, I do. It's wonderful. It's just.." She sniffs loudly. "I don't know, I just can't believe...that I'm here. I'm really here."

"What do you mean?" asks Felix cautiously.

"I mean, here. At the Romanian Reserve. I always wanted to come here and...visit Sparky one day. But I never thought... I mean...I never really thought I'd get out of school alive, you know? I didn't think...I'd make it.." Juniper looks down at Sparky once more. "But I did...I'm here. It's over and...I can't believe it."

It's as though the last year has never occurred. The final vestiges of Felix's twisted anger and resentment and confusion shrink to nothing. All he can feel is the same familiar, overwhelming love for Juniper he remembers, and that primal desire to make anything hurting her disappear.

"Come here." Felix wraps his arms around Juniper's shaking shoulders and lets her bury her wet face against his chest. He holds her to him delicately, unable to keep from savouring the feeling of her body pressed against his once more. "You did make it. It's all over now." Felix strokes her windswept hair softly. "And things are going to be so much better from now on. I promise."

Missed the last bits? Here’s the link to the masterpost.

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galactic-aesir · 5 years

Text

Road Trip!: Chapter Three

After getting hit with an anti-magic Shen Gong Wu that leaves Dojo unable to fly them back to China, the Dragons in training, plus Jack Spicer in tow, road trip across America towards the Bailey’s family ranch.

Surprising no one, it doesn’t go as planned.

Rating: Gen Tags: Multi-Chapter Fics, Road Trips, Temporary Truce, Dialogue Heavy, Dubious Placement in Canon

Read it on AO3 Read Chapter One

Keatt guffawed as they attempted to push the car towards the garage. The wreck was flat on its rims with a broken back axle. Even with the five of them at it, all they managed to do was make a two foot car-shaped groove in the muddy ground. One final heave sent them tripping over each other and crashing into the mud as Keatt bent over double, smacking his knee as he laughed.

“Ooh, fellas,” he tried saying between hiccups of laughter. “I haven’t suckered idiots like you in a while.”

He wiped a tear from his eye and tried to compose himself but the mocking smile on his face betrayed his amusement as they shook the mud off themselves.

“Anyways, I’ll be in the office. You have ‘til sundown to fix the car. Get off my property any later and I’ll call the cops on ya for loitering. Got it?”

With that, he sauntered off back to the office building leaving the monks plus Jack alone in the scrapyard. They grumbled as he left before turning their attention to the car.

“Great going, Pedrosa,” Jack snipped.

“Hey! I got us a car, didn’t I?!”

Omi looked at it curiously. “Does it qualify as a car?”

“No, it doesn’t, Omi.”

“Aw, come on, Kimiko.”

“Raimundo,” Kimiko said, cutting the brazilian off. “It’s a deathtrap past its prime. It’s an ex-car.”

Clay scratched at his head as he looked it over. “Woowie. I’ll admit, Rai. It looks like it won last place at the local derby seven years running.”

“So?” Raimundo said. “Jack can fix it.”

Split between agreeing with the praise and tearing into him, Jack settled with both. “Of course I can fix it! I’m a genius. But I can’t do it out here! How the hell are we supposed to get this into the garage?”

Clay peeked over his shoulder to see if Keatt was out of sight. Seeing no one around, he turned to the rest of him with a smile and motioned them all to get out of the way. “Don’t worry, y’all. I’ll have her out of there in a jiffy.”

Before anyone could ask him how, the texan smashed his foot to the ground.

“Earth!”

A column of earth erupted from under the car and pushed it into the air. Clay jumped onto the hood and with a wave of his hand began directing the wave beneath him. Riding it like a surfboard, Clay propelled the car towards the garage, whooping all the way. The monks watched him go.

“Huh, that works.”

***

After moving the car over into the garage, Jack toured them around the scrapyard with a rusty shopping cart. It took them the major part of an hour to fill it with the remnants of disused cars and partially wrecked trucks. They’d managed to find half of two engines and a replacement for the back axle along with a few other parts that Jack figured they would need and hauled them to the waiting car.

In the garage, surrounded by car parts and tools, Jack looked in his element. He spun a wrench in his hand and puffed up his chest as the monks looked over the piles of scrap. “I told you you’d need my help!”

“No, you didn't,” Kimiko said, utterly unimpressed.

He wagged the wrench at her. “It was implied!”

At the continued unimpressed looks from the monks Jack rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, now that I’ve got pretty much everything I need, I should be done with this in, like, four hours tops.”

“Four hours?” Raimundo said. “Can’t you go any faster?”

“Hey! If you want to frankenstein an engine out of scrap faster then be my guest, Pedrosa.” When Raimundo scowled at him Jack continued. “I’m just saying, losers; you need me. In fact,” he added tapping his chin in thought, “I don’t even know why I’m helping you out! I could just fix this car and leave by myself.”

At this, the monks took out their Wu nonchalantly if not menacingly. Jack shrank, laughing nervously, and relaxed only when the monks stashed their weapons.

“Haha, no worries, wouldn’t dream about it. I’ll have this thing working better than it ever did in its sorry life, you’ll see!”

“You’d better, Spicer,” said Kimiko.

“Wait, so what are we supposed to do while you work?”

Jack shrugged. “Don’t know, don't care, just as long as you stay out of my way.”

Dojo popped up from underneath Clay’s hat where he had decided to stay until they got on the road. It’d be easiest to hide himself under there if that swindler ever came back to check on them.

“I don’t know about you kids but I’m feeling a bit peckish.”

“Alright, I’ll go for snacks,” Kimiko said. “Clay, you wanna come?”

“Sure.”

“Ooh, get me a ginger ale!”

“And why should I?” she asked.

“Because I’m fixing the car and, wait, hold on, let me think, oh yeah: it’s my money!”

Kimiko frowned, he was right of course, not that she was going to admit it. Jack was a jerk and they may be stuck together for now but that didn’t mean she needed to like it. Or make it easy for him after all the grief he had put them through. Instead of a response, she turned to the rest of the monks, ignoring him completely.

“Omi, you coming?”

“Oh, I would like to help Jack! I am most interested in this motorhead stuff!”

“Gearhead.”

“That too!”

“Absolutely not,” would have been the words that Jack would have used. Instead, they died in his throat after the first syllable as Omi’s face fell, eyes welling with tears. Jack, for all the evilness in his pitch black heart, could not ignore the puppy dog eyes and so he swallowed down the words and huffed. “Alright, fine, you can hand me my tools or something.”

“Yes!”

Kimiko turned to their remaining member.

“Rai?”

“I’ll stay behind. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you-know-who from stealing our you-know-what.”

“I’m right here!”

“Alright, then. We’ll be in that convenience store just outside of town. See you in a bit.”

Clay lazily waved a hand as they left. “Don’t trash the place, y’all.”

***

“Cheesehead, pass me a 3/8th wrench.”

Omi hummed as he looked at the open toolbox in front of him. It had many drawers and many more tools inside of it in a wide variety of shapes. The little monk was perplexed to find that he had absolutely no idea what any of them did. Nonetheless, Omi was not to be discouraged. Relying on his Tiger instincts, he quickly grabbed a tool he was sure Jack needed and placed it into Jack’s outstretched hand.

The hand quickly retracted as Jack went back to work. Omi congratulated himself. Even with no prior knowledge, he was no match for this task! Surely this was proof of his incredible skill and intelligence!

His pride was quickly dashed however when Jack straightened himself out of the hood and frowned at him. He pointed at the tool.

“This is a screwdriver.”

“Oh!” said Omi. “What does it do?”

Jack tipped his head back and groaned. “Ugh, I can’t work like this! Where’s a loyal minion when you need one?”

Raimundo zipped by them, using a floor creeper as a skateboard.

“Probably in that scraphead over there,” he grinned, pointing his thumb at what remained of the Jackbots.

“Hey! They’re not scrap!” Jack said, moving over to the pile of ex-Jackbots, as if to protect them. “They’re the meticulously engineered product of my incredible genius! They’re the pinnacle of modern robotics! Years ahead of their time!”

“Dude, they’re just robots.”

“Yes, and not particularly robust ones at that.”

Jack gasped and hugged the ex-robots, draping himself over the pile. “Don’t listen to them, they’re just jealous. Daddy loves you.”

“Weird.”

“Whatever,” Jack said, making his way back to the car.

He paused as a thought struck him and flipped the screwdriver in his hand before sitting himself down at the workbench to work on his robots.

“Hey, you’re supposed to fix the car, Spicer!”

“Yeah yeah, it can wait, this is more important,” he said prying the panel of a bot open and removing a small black component. Compared to the rest of the Jackbots, this part was obviously made solid with hard steel and heavy rivets. Wuya’s insignia on it glistened silver on the center of each one.

“What’s that?” Raimundo asked, leaning over Jack’s shoulder.

“Why’re you on my case, Pedrosa?”

Raimundo squinted at Jack. “‘Cause you’re evil.”

“Thank you!” Jack cupped his hands under his chin and batted his eyelashes at him.

“That wasn’t a compliment,” the Dragon of Wind frowned. “You could be building a bomb or something. I don’t trust you to just tinker around.”

Jack’s mouth was pressed into a line as he regarded the Xiaolin monk. “As tempting as it is, Raimundo, that wouldn’t help us out. Or me. Besides,” he said, mouth twirling into a smirk. “How would you even know if I was building one anyways?”

Raimundo's eyes went wide as it dawned on him. Jack looked on with a knowing smirk amongst the car parts and scrap metal and old wiring. He would have no idea if Jack was setting up a trap or a bomb. He would have to go on the Heylin’s word. Sensing this, Jack's lips curled further into a wicked grin.

“Huh. Guess we’ll just have to trust each other then.”

***

An electric jingle played as they walked passed the automatic doors. The cashier at the front offered them a welcoming hello before turning back to watch a baseball game on the old dusty TV set in the corner of the shop. It was a general store that had been repurposed many times over the course of its long life. It was old but clearly cared for by the current owner.

Clay and Kimiko set out between the scant aisles to get snacks for their friends and Jack. Kimiko was considering buying an off-brand ginger ale for Jack out of spite when Clay came around the corner with a mountain of chips and snack cakes. She snorted at the sight of him teetering under the mountain of snacks that were threatening to fall on top of him.

“Hold on there cowboy,” she said, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards, taking a few off his hands. “We can't blow our budget on snacks.”

Clay sighed and looked longingly at the snacks Kimiko was replacing onto the shelves. “I figure you’re right, there, Kimiko. I’d hazard saying that we still need to pay for at least one night at a motel.”

“‘At least’? How far are we from Texas?”

“It’s not exactly a hop, skip and a jump but it ain’t that far. I’d reckon a 30-sum hour drive?”

Kimiko’s face scrunched at the thought of being stuck in America for that long, let alone that long in a car with Jack Spicer.

“Is there anyway we could go faster, Clay?”

“No can do, Kimiko. ‘Less you want cops riding our tails.”

Kimiko grumbled. She grabbed a cheap ginger ale from the coolers and slammed the door shut.

“Figures.”

***

In the end, Jack hadn't actually been making a bomb. All he did was take out the small components out his bots and put them into his Wu-stealing bag, which Rai had asked about and yes, apparently not only did Jack have a bag just for stealing their Wu, he also kept it on his person at all times so he could haul his broken Jackbots back home at the end of a showdown.

“I don't get it, dude. Why don't you just build them better?”

“With, what?” he said, tossing the bag in the backseat next to his folded up trenchcoat and busted helipod. “Military grade steel and explosives? Do you know how hard it is to get a hold of that stuff?”

“Aren't you, you know,” Raimundo made air quotes, “‘an evil genius’?”

“An evil boy genius,” he specified, turning up his nose at the monk. He then paused and frowned. Looking embarrassed, he mumbled, “My parents won't buy me the good stuff anymore.”

Raimundo and Omi laughed at him.

Jack grabbed a wrench and made his way to the engine block. “Keep laughing, Xiaolin losers! Once I hit 18, you're screwed!”

“Jack Spicer, it would be unwise for you to wait until you are older!” Omi warned, running after him. “We train everyday to develop our abilities and we will only grow stronger! You will be left behind unless you begin training now!”

“Omi, please stop helping the bad guy,” grumbled Raimundo.

“Pssh, I don’t need help. Or training. I have robots for that. So have fun ‘waxing on, waxing off’ for the rest of your lives,” Jack said miming the movement. “Speaking of which, get going Raimundo. That car won’t clean itself.”

“Who said anything about cleaning?”

“I did,” Jack said with a smirk. “Get going, oh-so-noble Xiaolin Dragon of the Wind. The fight against cleanliness is an eternal struggle.”

“Indeed it is,” said Omi solemnly, thinking of Raimundo’s room back at the temple. “One that Raimundo is sorely losing.”

“Aw, what?”

“It would be wise for you to train on this Raimundo,” Omi said wisely. “As Master Fung says, ‘a tidy temple is a tidy mind,’ and it is important to keep one’s mind tidy in order to meditate. Perhaps your messiness is why you are lagging behind the rest of us!”

Raimundo was stunned out of words for a moment before squinting at the smaller Dragon as a realisation hit him.

“Is this about the chores I skipped out on yesterday?”

Omi did not hesitate. “Yes.”

“Come on, I said I was sorry!”

Jack laughed.

“Clean your mind, Raimundo,” the older teen said, waving his fingers at him. He then turned to Omi and said, “I’m teaching you how a combustion engine works. Hold this torch.”

Raimundo’s shoulders slumped as Omi bounced up to the top of the engine to get a better look at what Jack was doing. He couldn’t believe this. Was this what it felt like when he betrayed his teammates for Wuya? It sucked.

Oh wow. And just thinking about that just made him feel even worse.

Frowning, he looked to the trashed interior of the car and the quasi-unidentifiable junk littering the torn seats. With a sigh, he picked up a rag and got to work.

***

Clay and Kimiko quickly paid for the snacks and started their long walk back to the scrapyard. Once they were out of the town, Dojo popped out of his hiding place and opened a small bag of chips to munch on. There was no noise along the lonely, rarely traveled road other than the dragon’s munching and the crunch of their feet on the gravel shoulder.

Kimiko was staring intently at the styrofoam cup in her hand, fuming silently. Clay could feel the air charge around her as she boiled internally. It was strange of her. Clay wasn’t born in the metaphorical barn. He knew when something was up. In the quiet of the gentle bristle of leaves and crunching rock, his voice nearly startled her when he finally spoke.

“You mind me asking why you were so peeved off about no gettin’ back to the temple?” he asked casually enough. “This isn’t the longest we’ve been away or nothing.”

“Ugh, it’s just...” Kimiko frowned and shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“Don’t sound like nothin’.”

“Why don’t you mind your own business, Clay?” she snapped.

Clay put his hands up in surrender. The plastic bags in his hands bounced against his arms. “Didn’t mean to pry, Kimiko.”

The Dragon of Fire felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. She hadn’t meant to snap, especially not at Clay who was, often times, the kindest of them.

“Sorry.”

“Mmm hmm.”

Kimiko bit at her lip, as if considering whether or not to speak. Clay kept his eyes on the road ahead of them but waited patiently for her to continue. Finally, she sighed.

“I was supposed to fly out to go see my Dad in Tokyo. We were planning a surprise party for my sister. It’s her birthday tomorrow.”

Clay cocked his head. He did remember her mentioning plans to go back home but Kimiko hadn’t told them about a sister.

“Well, happy birthday, Kimiko’s sister. She older or younger?”

“Older. A lot older. She works a lot too so I don’t see her much.”

“Oh, well,” Clay said, “I’m sure she’ll understand if you can’t make it. You can always reschedule for some other time, right?”

Kimiko's shoulders sagged, all anger snuffed out of her like a candle. She looked sadly at the styrofoam cup in her hands and flicked at the plastic lid absentmindedly.

“No. Not with the kind of work she does.”

Clay didn’t say anything, leaving room for Kimiko to continue if she wanted to. He understood that family could be… complicated.

“It’s just, I––” Kimiko started and stopped, trying to find the right words. “I know what she does is super important and I get that that’s what she wants to do but I– we haven’t been the three of us together in a room in years and... and I just...”

She sighed. “I just miss them.”

They continued to walk, both lost in their own thoughts for a while.

“I miss my sister too.”

Kimiko blinked out of her reverie. “What?”

“I have an older sister too,” Clay admitted. “My dad and her don’t...” He paused. “Well, they just don’t see eye to eye, is all. She lives with my mom.”

“Oh,” was all Kimiko could say. “I didn’t know.”

Clay shrugged. “‘Cause I didn’t tell,” he said. “An’ well, listen. I ain’t much with words, Kimiko, but I’ve got a decent ear. You’re free to talk to me if ya want. Y’ain’t gotta keep it locked up, ya know? It’s bad for your health.”

Kimiko laughed softly at that. “Who told you that?”

Clay smiled. “My sister. She’s smart like you wouldn’t believe. She’s going to one of those big city universities.”

Kimiko smiled back, bright like the sun. “She sounds smart. What is she studying?”

They continued to talk as they made their way back to the scrapyard, Dojo smiling fondly down at them as they went.

#xiaolin showdown #xs #kimiko tohomiko #clay bailey #jack spicer #raimundo pedrosa #omi #dojo #fanfiction #mywrites #I FORGOT TO POST THIS ON TUMBLR WHOOPS

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