#its in my nature | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

princeresnikov · 8 months

Text

it's in my nature {Tangerine} // 10

ten. tangerine: indistinct by design.

Summary: Tangerine has no idea how to feel about Clementine's possibly attempts at manipulation, he doesn't have the time. None of them do, a fact which is only made more frustrating when Clementine tries to insist on leaving The Twins to do her actual job.

{ Masterlist }

A/N: 2669 words. hello it's been five months its good to see you! yes i'm still writing this, but i'm also working internationally at my day job so that's been taking up a lot of my life lol. but i get so happy every time i think of this fic, even though I was SO stuck on this for MONTHS. anyways, i love you, i hope you enjoy, let me know what you think?

Warnings: Don’t be surprised when the OC is a terrible person and is implied to have done terrible things along with the rest of them.

Chapter Warnings: light discussions of murder

Taglist: @venusthepirate @malar-region @tangerinesgf @esmaada @sarcastic-sourwolf @chuyouchu @justshutupmars @somikesoc @chachadelight @andydre4m @evangelineflowers @darkchai @basementsoup @bellatrix124 @kunikidaswhore @thewinterschildren178 @deadtildeath @folkloreandfall @aniglio18 @geeiz @mimidior @justice-333 @ltlthetrifecta @salsasadd @xkawax @hellsgatelove22 @brownficgirl @tangerineswife @cigarettesandfigureskates @ceciliahargrove @welcometothescreaming20s @moonlight-matcha @thyeb @emilia527 @tangerinefics @charlemagnethesecond @little-miss-bi @megplant @kalli0pes @aaronperryjohnson @nachtcirce @literatureisair @nina-isabelle @queenofspades403 @ayaahaddadd @sweetbutpsychobutsweet

---

Clementine's already dubiously murky motivations were growing even harder to guess at as the day went on. Perhaps she was trying to get him on side, lull him into a false sense of security, sway his perception of her despite everything he'd learned that day. The part that Tangerine found rather infuriating, however, was that it was kind of working. Little things were adding up, things she'd mentioned today, memories of moments back in New York that kept resurfacing, and now, something about the way she'd admitted that making him happy was never part of her job description, he couldn't help but begin to think she was being genuine, at least about that.

He wasn't sure how to feel about it all, let alone her, not that he had time to feel things; later? Perhaps. Now? Not so much.

Slipping into the seat across the aisle from his brother, he can see Lemon's working hard to retain his composure, and despite how tense he's feeling, Tangerine does at least allow himself to breathe. He doesn't relax, persay; none of them are, and he's rather sure none of them really can, even if Clementine may look like she's never experienced a damn hardship in her life. While she's wearing that little smile that almost looks pleased as she sits daintily across from him, gaze roaming, searching the cabin in a way that anyone else could misconstrue as simply curious, Tangerine knows it all too well as her planning her possible escape routes. Lemon takes his focus for the moment, however, glancing furtively between them both.

"Well that couldn't 've gone better," he offers, more hopeful than anything else.

"Yeah, let's hope they buy it," Tangerine grimaces, before looking between them both, "we need to find that glasses twat like right - the fuck - now -"

Except Clementine's phone buzzes.

All three of them turn their attention to her bag.

"What. Now." Tangerine says through his teeth, practically oozing frustration. Clementine, having frantically fished the phone from the bag's depths, looks at the screen, seemingly ignoring him as she stands abruptly.

"Royal pain," she mutters, mostly to herself, and makes a start towards the back end of the train. Before she can abscond, Tangerine's grabbing her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. The moment she looks at his hard expression, it's as if she suddenly remembered he was there at all.

"Something more important to get to?"

"Actually yes," Clementine says with surprising ire, "my job." Again Tangerine's mind lights up at the thought of the girl in first class, and the dishevelled man in the seat adjacent who she'd called her Uncle. Right. Weird. Not his problem right now.

"She's got her Uncle, she'll be fine for a few minutes -"

"What?" Clementine says so sharply he could swear he could feel the sting. A strange look flashes across her face but she can't seem to regain her composure entirely - "no, I really have to go. If I see our man I'll be sure to send him your way -"

"Just one more question, Clem, I promise," it's Lemon's voice that cuts her off, altogether far lighter, far more amicable and earnest, "just before you go; I'm curious." Tangerine notes how he'd used her nickname with such ease, sounding almost jarring, at least to him, since Lemon had exclusively been referring to her as The Scorpion since that revelation - faint surprise reads on Clementine's face, but still she grants him a hesitant smile.

"Not sure if there's time for that," she tells him, still standing, though her tone is almost apologetic. Almost. Lemon's smile is bereft of humour in a way that rather unnerved his brother.

"Humour me would you?"

After a moment of hesitation, Clementine obligingly sits once more. All three of them hear her phone vibrate where she's got it clutched to her chest. Both brothers look to it, but Clementine just holds it a little tighter.

"What do you really sound like?" Lemon asks her, "you're not really from the states; the Late, unfortunate Son of our boss implied as much; whaddya sound like when you're not talking to us?"

"What a dangerous question," her tone and smile indicate that she's impressed with his audacity, but she doesn't answer the question, "making a scrapbook? Is this how you choose to waste time?" It evidentially comes out a little harsher than she'd probably meant it, a sure but surprising sign that he'd touched a nerve.

"Careful with your tone there," Tangerine warns, "just call it part of the explanation you owe us." Tangerine backs up his brother's line of questioning without hesitation.

"I don't think it is," there's a new, faint reservation in her words; despite her promises, she still can't fully commit to being honest with them, "it's not the same; you two don't put the same kind of effort into obfuscating your identities."

"Big word for a girl like you, isn't it? Obfuscating," Tangerine's condescending tone allows a crack in Clementine's armour; she rolls her eyes, expression dropping and lips pursing. Still, he continues to needle her for the information, "you're doing more than your fair share of that now, aren't you?"

"It's my speciality," she gives a flat smile but can't look him in the eyes. She crosses her arms, seemingly letting go of the bright demeanour for a moment, falling back into being quiet and sullen; there's something about the question that appears to bring her more genuine discomfort than Tangerine had expected, "why are you asking me this, Lemon?" Her gaze keeps flicking around, both the cabin behind them, and the Twins themselves, though never looking them in the eyes.

"We want to trust you," it escapes Lemon before his brother can speak, appearing to catch both Clementine and Tangerine off guard.

"I don't believe that," she huffs a quiet laugh, gaze now focused down the aisle ahead of her. After a very long moment of deliberation, however, she takes a deep breath, "what was the question again?"

"What do you really sound like?" Lemon repeats flatly.

"In which language?"

"English, Clem," he sighs, but the irate edge has softened from his voice. Clementine glances over her shoulder for a moment, but then meets his gaze with a vaguely confused frown. Then, seemingly having processed whatever it was that had confused her, she makes a strange expression.

"I heard English in so many accents growing up, lots of tapes from all over the world, I think so I wouldn't have one that would be my default, I think they were afraid that when I was young, if I got into a situation where my accent would drop, it would be telling."

Her phone buzzes again, but this time she just places it face down on the table.

"You don't know," Tangerine says flatly.

"I don't know," Clementine agrees, once more looking distinctly uncomfortable, wearing an expression that seemed to say 'I don't know what you expected'.

"So when you, say, default back -"

"I don't default to English," she pointed out.

"Wouldn't your honest accent be based on your first language then?" Lemon points out, but Clementine shifts, again with an unfamiliar discomfort.

"Steps were taken to erase defining parts of my identity."

"That sounds downright fucking terrifying; what do you mean?"

"It's far more helpful than you might think, though some of the methods could stand to perhaps be more gentle," she gives an awkward, almost self deprecating laugh, before looking straight at Lemon with a vacant smile, "I'm fully ambidextrous, no preference for left or right, always have been."

"Is that why he took fingers instead of a whole hand?" Tangerine hears himself asking. Clementine, however, looks genuinely shocked that he'd made that connection.

"Among several other reasons," she said slowly, "yes." Then, with another furtive glance and a buzz from her phone, "Lemon, you know I'd love to chat and explain myself to you until I'm blue in the face, but we really don't have the time." Lemon's quick to thank her for her willingness to humour him, gesturing as if to say that she's no longer bound by social contract. Again, her phone buzzes as she picks it up and both brothers see her grimace as she goes to answer, voice growing faint as she trots hurriedly away. They both hear how she answers in a completely new accent, however, and Tangerine knows, clear as day, that it's a mirror of the young woman he'd met up in first class -

"What have you done now -"

"Spooky that is," Lemon muses after a moment, before he looks sharply to Tangerine, "Russian, right?"

Tangerine frowns obvious confusion.

"Her accent," though he amends without even a beat, "or, no, her original accent; do you think she's Russian too?"

"As far as probability goes," Tangerine says after a bit of thought, "chances aren't zero, I'll give you that."

"Well what's your leading theory?"

"I have bigger things to worry about than Clementine's country of origin, like that fuck with our case, and a fuckin' murder mystery," Tangerine scowls, "what's it even matter now?"

"I've been thinking- well, I've been panicking, wracking my brains," Lemon's half-rambling, leaning across the table to whisper to Tangerine the moment Clementine's out of earshot; his gaze doesn't stray from the door she'd disappeared through, "tryna figure out how she's connected to what happened with you in Russia all those years ago, and for the life of me I can't figure it out otherwise."

"So you think she is Russian?" Tangerine, despite his scepticism, matches his brother's low tone, meeting his conspiratorial energy.

"It matters because I can't rightly remember the details of the case, and I was hung up on them for years because I thought you'd end up dead, but she -"

"- somehow still remembers well enough to maybe want to kill about it," Tangerine sighed, finally realising where his brother was coming from, "despite not being personally tied to them."

"Allegedly."

"Or she could have been competition."

"What?"

"Like competition for you; The Scorpion kills her competition, right? Maybe that's why? Took her a good few years after that to make a name for herself, right?"

A long silence followed, Tangerine scrubbing his hand over his face as he ruminates upon this.

"She wasn't the first."

"The fuck else have you done that I need to worry about -?!"

"Not the Russia thing, do you really think I wouldn't tell you if I did something like that without you again?" Scowling at his brother, Lemon at least has the grace to give him that. After a long moment, Tangerine exhales his frustration through his nose, sitting back in his seat, "wasn't the first like her, who kills her competition, was she? If she's been doing this for as long as I think, then she's kept a low profile until the past few years; she wasn't the first, and I doubt she'd be cut about that a decade after the fact, even if she was one to hold a grudge that long."

Lemon took a deep breath.

"Maybe that's why she killed The Cockroach."

"What are you talking about?"

"The Scorpion killed The Cockroach," Lemon insists, "'s what I heard, 's why she is the only one who does what she does anymore." It's ringing a very faint bell bell; Tangerine hasn't consciously thought about The Cockroach in a very long time. All Tangerine tries recalling everything he'd heard about the operative in the few years they had been operating, but he can't call to mind much that's positive.

They'd been scum, with friends in high places that kept them from being a target the way they sought to target other operatives in their path. Rumours said they were like an alien to encounter, cold and strange to anyone outside of their targets, bug-like with they way they watched, and their skittish nature; he thinks he recalls the derisive way someone once compared them to a preying mantis, or an alien. The Cockroach, despite their reputation, and everything they were rumoured to have done, everything they'd supposedly endured. Even when they weren't targeted by fellow operatives, their jobs were often said to be dangerous and required close contact. The Cockroach was said to be unkillable, in more ways than one.

But then, one day, though Tangerine supposed it would be a different day for everyone, he realised he hadn't heard anything about The Cockroach in months. Everyone stopped hearing about The Cockroach, but no-one really acknowledged it, or knew why. Rumours circulated of course -

"You know I'm right," Lemon says, sounding just a touch smug in the way he only ever did when he was menacing his brother.

"I think you're distracting yourself -"

"You're thinking about it, and you know I'm right."

"Well right now she's not trying to kill us, so I don't give half a shit about who she has killed, or if she's Russian, or English, or American -"

"Well once we untangle ourselves from this bloody mess, ten-to-one odds she's gonna decide to start being a problem, so it matters -"

"Not right now it doesn't," Tangerine snapped finally, and took a moment to attempt to compose himself with very little success, "we're looking for that glasses-fuck; I'm gonna go up, you go down, double back when you're done. If you see him, fuckin' deal with him, yeah?"

His brother is covered in blood that Tangerine hopes to God isn't his; he can't look at him right now, even as he's finally focusing back on their situation at hand. So Tangerine casts his gaze to the door Clementine had just passed through, trying to keep the description - glasses, blonde, American - in his mind, trying to recall anything else he can about the bastard who'd startled him earlier without Tangerine realising that he'd been the thief.

Except that it occurs to him that he's not even sure what counts as up and what counts as down on a train. Of course Lemon would know -

"- towards Tokyo," Lemon clarifies, pointing in the other direction, "departing trains are always moving down." In all honesty, Tangerine doesn't know enough about trains to confirm as much, and Lemon already seems to be wary of Tangerine's dubious relationship with Clementine; for all he knows Lemon's concerned about his focus too, and trying to keep him from getting distracted. It doesn't sit well with him, however neither does acknowledging that Clementine has a knack for being able to distract him when she wants to. Either way, he trusts his brother on this - "and look, be careful," Lemon, as if hearing Tangerine's thoughts, turns to him, gaze intense, "something else is going on here," his voice is still low, still conspiratorial, as if he can't bring himself to trust any of the unsuspecting civilians around them, "I feel like there's still another Diesel lurking about."

Fucking Thomas the Tank Engine.

"I swear to God, what did I say?" Tangerine hissed, fed up with this bit his brother insisted upon doing, "what did I say?" Any other day, hell, any other time he'd humour his brother in this, but right now was not the time - "I said I'd -"

"Shoot me in the face," Lemon finishes with exasperation, but clearly it's more than a bit, "Thomas still taught me how to see people, how to read them for real," he points out firmly, which Tangerine does agree to, "and I'm never wrong, am I?"

"No," Tangerine concedes.

"Glasses," Lemon insists, "he is not our guy. We still have another fuckin' bug to look out for."

Right, The Hornet.

Tangerine lets himself breathe for just a moment. He trusts his brother, he always has; Lemon's instincts have never been wrong before.

As he pulls out his gun, Tangerine deliberates for a bit, gives himself a million reasons before he hands it over - Lemon's a better shot at close range, if one of them were to spot The Hornet first his money was on Lemon, Lemon's less likely to shoot the wrong person - but knows deep down that if he let his brother leave unarmed, and something happened to him, Tangerine would never forgive himself.

"Shoot first, come up with the answers later."

#tangerine bullet train imagine #tangerine bullet train x oc #tangerine bullet train x reader #bullet train tangerine #bullet train fanfic #bullet train movie #bullet train #tangerine bullet train #lemon bullet train imagine #lemon bullet train #tangerine imagine #tangerine x oc #tangerine x reader #bullet train 2022 #tangerine x clementine #its in my nature #bullet train oc

29 notes · View notes