Brigadoon

There. Instincts proven right, instant camaraderie, proof that Alex was one of the tribe. And a gift, too! Alex made a moue of pleasure and gratitude as Steve proclaimed him the better owner of the sunnies, slipping them down immediately in front of his eyes to do a little posing before flipping them back up. He wanted good unencumbered eye contact for this meeting, yes indeed, and Steve's intelligent dark eyes were mesmerizing enough to want to have nothing between them. Except the glasses, of course.

"You're a dollface," Alex declared, letting himself be inspected in the same way he was giving Steve a good once-over; if it was mutual then there was nothing rude about it, and Alex liked what he was seeing. Good, well-manicured, solid body, without too many signs of extra vanity in terms of a showy six-pack or anything. No, there was a definite intellectual bent to Steve's array of deliberate mannerisms, the hallmarks of gay-and-can't-pass and clever about being unapologetic. "Thank you for these, I'm probably gonna be wearing them in my sleep. My eyes can't handle the abundance of light in this place, sometimes."

“Awful.” Steve proclaimed with a kiss of teeth. Except that was quickly followed up with a none too shy smile.  “Need to get you a silk eye mask or…” Steve’s brows lifted, wristcandy, well no need to be embarrassed. Not eager to show but regardless, he pushed the band back around again, holding it out for Alex to inspect.

“No you're right, I totally agree, everyone is gorgeous.” It was like they’d all been carefully curated –– except Alex swiftly put to bed Steve’s reality show thoughts. Not theory, it hadn’t quite cooked long enough. 

Clueless, but why did he need to be clued up. He had everything he could ever want, or need, right here. “I’m not really a diamond type but it’s pretty, isn’t it?” To hell with Zaid trying to undermine his stone. It was destiny for him and Lindi to twin. “Sparkle-tastic. I just think yours is stunning that blend of colours it’s like a juicy little jolly rancher.” Steve slipped two fingers underneath the rubberised band of Alex’s bracelet, thumb pressed to the green-pink blushed gem. “Gorg. Do you know what these unlock?” 

Way too pretty to just be the key to their spa lockers.

Though Steve's proclamations of fear and disgust certainly weren't helping her own feelings. As brave and nonchalant as she wanted to be, occasionally his aura would come her way and she would think that maybe they should turn back. But those split second thoughts made her double down even harder. Especially when her eyes drifted to the the large, sharp, drill-like pincers these things had. "Nothing's gonna happen, you gotta chill out your vibes right now or else every little thing is gonna freak you out."

Moving in closer to this pile to prove they weren't a threat would be a big help. So Crystal followed his instructions and went over to lift up the wing flaps of one of the closer busted up robots. She posed with it, her face expressing dramatic shock, fear, surprise at every snapshot Steve took, followed by a grin full of amusement. "See? We're fine, we can do whatever we want—" she started before getting cut off by the sound of the metal groaning, followed by the twitchy movement of one of the wings.

“No…what the fuck this is not okay. I’m not doing this! I don’t even know how to do this! Crystal this isn’t funny!” Pitch steadily inclined to the point of being neigh unintelligible. Turning invisible, this absolutely was not his power! “Fuuuuuck! Stop it Crystal! Make it stop!” Could’ve been his heart lurched up in his throat, it could’ve been real, but Steve would’ve sworn the invisibility crept higher. Threatening to engulf them both in some godawful wizard trick.

Tej's laugh came out more as a scoff. "it's kind of hard to avoid people around here." Well, he could. Knew the spot to pick up and move to. The effort didn't seem quite fair to Tej. They divided the contents of an apartment. Divvied up friends (except Steve apparrently, unbeknownst to Tej). Now it was up to Tej to once more enforce boundaries Zaid would brazenly cross? (Not the full picture, but whatever)

The comb was tossed back on the shelf with a huff and short smile. "Yeah, yeah you're right." Thoughts were forced back into containers to store away. No reason for Steve to be terribly sympathetic with advice given before. (What else, who else was supposed to hold his attention?) "I'm sure he'll move on just fine without me, and I'll do the same."

Steve was also dismissive about work, and Tej left the topic alone (for the time being). If Steve found being there an escape, so be it. Instead, they walked upstairs. Tej's current junkyard of parts for art was kept at the bungalow. Meanwhile the 'loft' retained more an organized chaos.

Crates were arranged as areas for a hot plate, dishes/cookware, along with a salvaged mini-fridge, courtesy of the abandoned cruise ship like everything else. Next to a futon were more assembled crates. An old bookshelf stereo from the early 00s was there, with CDs and a couple of ancient cassettes stacked on top of the speakers.

Stray pieces and paints and discarded junk only Tej saw a use for peeked out from makeshift storage around the space. Most bits of inspo were contained in a few trunks opposite a basic bed. A few scraps were hung on the otherwise obscenely blank wall of the loft area, with faint charcoal outlines and penciled grids that waited for Tej to make some type of decision.

"Oh, the place is definitely cursed. Like the upstairs corner booth at Pisces." A frequented bar in the West Village. The hex cast so strongly over the booth mentioned, anyone who sat their ass there for more than 5 minutes seemed destined for a run of bad luck. The patrons even kept a running tally of unfortunate incidences written on the wall next to the booth ('lost my wallet', 'broke up with Lou on 2-2-22' etc).

Tej began cracking open little bottles of vodka, soda, and grabbed a fresh lime to slice. "Esteban, hm? After what happened with the last Esteban? That's brave of you. Go on, tell me everything."

He did not, however, verbalise any such thoughts. Instead, a throwaway remark. “I’ll believe it when I see it darling.” Could the pair ever be separated? If this was allegedly the end of the world, looking rather like paradise, then fate had already sealed them together. No matter! Steve would nosy up for the next season of Shairani.

Tej hoisted them both out of the present and into the myth of the stickiest corner of Pisces. A curse so great that even Steve had fallen for it once. Ruining what would’ve been a perfectly delicious evening with Esteban’s predecessor. “You know me I’m the bravest in Manhattan.” Vodka soda, Tej really was a dream, Steve collapsed onto the futon with a prayer it had seen less action than a booth in Pisces. However unlikely that may be. “Ugh! You should’ve seen Esteban, he might’ve turned you to portraits.”

Certainly Steve had felt the impetus to pick up a camera again after his temporary retirement from the media. “Here see…” Steve fished for his phone and flicked through until he landed back on those golden hour photos. Digital scans viewed on such a small screen did not do justice to the work. “Well I guess she isn’t really a celebrity, more like movie-making adjacent.” Steve turned around his phone for Tej to see. The sun would never set on Esteban with his oil-slick chest. Divine like a god hungry for more. 

“People trust me.” Steve’s smile simmered, he did have one painfully virgin tidbit tucked into his pocket. He swivelled to admire the attempt at decoration, hesitant marks, a half unfinished outline. Tej had been here long enough to begin prospecting his own creativity. No matter how unfinished. “Plus start serving drinks it really loosens the lips. Do you have one of these?” Steve produced the rolled up tape secured with a borrowed elastic band. “And, better yet do you have some freaky power?”

“I’m a healer and an amnesiac,” he stated, clearly annoyed. Less so with the not-bartender, more with the world.

He sat, what else was he going to do. He took a sip from the juice. Terrible. He huffed instead, the other had a way about him that threw Adarsh off. Far too attentive. He liked it more when people decided to keep their distance from him. Or just sought him out for his ability. He still didn’t comment on the drink. “You’re new,” he stated. Not a question. “After the hornets probably.” Or just dim. He looked away. The earlier comparison to Alex wasn’t helpful. Not that it mattered, his lack of any progress with his memories made him agitated, angry, and horny. But he still wouldn’t seek out Alex, despite how his body suddenly craved to do so.

“I can only heal bodily harm,” he informed Steve, gritting his teeth. “And yes, I meant that literally. No memory whatsoever from before ending up on this cursed beach.” He was still frowning. “It’s worthless cause to get to know everybody. We’ve had five deaths in as many months since we got here. Very likely scenario that it will only get worse.” 

Exactly how had that slipped by everyone’s lips? No-one had felt the urge to press upon him just how dangerous it was, except for flimsy half-baked stories. Though Steve only needed to think about Zaid’s horrifying erogenous display to remind himself of the possibilities, and consequences. It also put a serious downer on any potential plans for sprucing this place up. “That’s a horribly pessimistic view.” Not that Steve was a raging optimist. Though the words of a rag-tag cargo pants messiah were perhaps to be taken lightly.

And again, fair enough. Zaid only had to put himself in Steve's size 12s to know that sooner or later, the rationalization and incredulity of where he'd landed, would soon sink in. Zaid didn't want to be there when it did; perhaps Lindi would be better suited to comforting her old friend. Apparently, she and Steve were 'old friends'.

"Right, so you both got diamond bracelets, is that it?" Unlikely, from what Zaid had noted of everyone's bracelet, but he wasn't going to argue. "Right, tell me more about you and Lindi in Goring. What was it like? Why did you settle there of all places? Not for Robbie, blimey. What was Lindi like, when she was at home?"

Zaid had his sangria in his other hand, unsure why Steve chose to abandon his, but. No matter. As they marched to the cruise ship, Zaid drank down half the booze. Out of pity, he offered the rest to Steve. "Best part - all the crushed fruit at the bottom. Take it."

No really - Zaid wanted Steve to take the glass, or Zaid was going to drop it right in the sand. They'd gotten close enough to the massive ship, but the destination wasn't the point. Zaid could feel it now. It happened really fast this time! The sun blasted down on them on their stroll across the beach, and Zaid getting slowly more woozy. Not from the wine. And then suddenly, in a rush. Like a protesting stomach after eating something off.

"No, no not the ship. I just wanted to get away from everyone. I wanted -to be safe - step back! Go there!" he gasped, going ashen. He motioned for Steve to step back, but Zaid also propelled towards the water. "No but - look! Look at me now! Look a--"

And Zaid erupted. Viscous hot-white goop erupted from his pores, his eyes and mouth and nose. Fortunately, Zaid had distanced himself enough, standing knee-deep in the water as he gobbed right into the shore. The water around him steamed immediately, temporarily masking Zaid in humid mist. Drying the entire body of water around him, until the ocean rushed back.

He turned then, breathing heavily (feeling great!), and gazed back at Steve. "See it now, love? Powers." A deep breath, and then Zaid pointed at Steve. "You'll get summat too, believe me."

“What’s so incredulous about that?” Couldn’t they match? Except Lindi’s was a jaw stopper and whoever had selected his hadn’t been preoccupied by size. Zaid pried, and who could blame him. “Why don’t you believe me?” Steve cut. Why else would he settle in Goring if not for a handsome man, and oh, his accent! Steve could never lay claim to knowing much about geography, he’d assumed England was tiny, London was meant to be a skip and a hop away.

“Lindi was a delight, my lifesaver, apparently the parents of Goring haven’t experienced the tier of friendship I offer before.” Frantically, Steve reached for the glass. Something told him Zaid was about to pop off. 

He did, just not how Steve had expected. 

Zaid coordinated him with urgency, Steve obliged, mouth agape with concern as Zaid lost his flush of colour. No sooner Zaid became a fountain of a viscous substance. It poured out of him. Every orifice a victim to his powerful excretion to leave Steve with a strong pang of regret.

That was not a power. That was dis-gus-ting. 

Steve swallowed, his gaze turned from Zaid who was now throwing accusations, to the glass of wine drenched fruit. He necked a few juicy berries. Swallowed again, and with a pout of his lips he surmised. “No.” Absolutely not was he going to have a power if that’s what it resulted in. No cute blasts out of Zaid’s hands as if he were a hotter spiderman. It was all encompassing. Though Zaid did seem blessedly buoyant now as the mist dissolved. Pleased with himself too, as if excretion from all holes was something to be proud of, congrats! Steve would write him a celebratory card as soon as he found the gift shop.

“That’s fucked up Zaid…” The empty glass had gone limp, along with the rest of Steve, as his lip wrinkled back. “Does…anyone else have that power? Or is it just you?” Steve would need to consult that list again, frankly he’d gotten a little preoccupied with numbers, names, and trying to suss who sounded like a fun time. For friends! Obviously. “When did you start doing all of this.” A hand was flourished out, the sad lonely last ambiguous fruit chunk sloshed with him. “Can you not like, focus it a little?”

"Sorry, so what's a visionary do, exactly? No offense but sounds like a made-up job," she snorted into her wine bottle. "Like 'life coach' or 'stylist', innit." Two jobs that were absolutely not comparable (because stylists were real occupations), but to Calamity it was all one and the same.

She giggled. "I snogged a nun once. Funny, it was while that horror film was on, about nuns. Nothing like a good bit of screaming and gore inbetween a fingering, innit." Calamity stretched out her long, skinny limbs. "You should take a trip to the Holy See. With your look? You'd be tripping over hot priest arse there."

Calamity was not the brightest, and she knew it. She did have a sort of cunning though, and a natural suspicion of others. Or rather, a firm conviction that everyone in the world was an arsehole, no matter how good they tried to be. Steve's exclamatory over Calamity's secret went over her head - Steve almost sounded sarcastic with his 'oh my gawd' exaggerations.

Calamity was about to concede that okay, maybe some plagiarism wasn't as bad as horny thoughts (no, it was worse, actually). And okay, Calamity herself plagiarized all the time. Hell, she plagiarized her own bandmates, sometimes.

But Steve kept going, and then threw out a name: Chelsey.

Calamity sat up properly, to stare at him. Wickedness gleaming in her eyes. "So Chelsey's here then? What'd she do? We should find her. We should find her and publicly accuse her! Bitch! It'd be fecking hilarious!! Who doesn't love a good humiliation...er, of someone who deserves it, of course. Of course! Chelsey absolutely deserves it, right?"

Calamity was up on her feet (unsteady but enthusiastic) as she grabbed a fistful of Steve's shirt to haul him. "C'mon! C'mon pleeeeaaaase. I reckon this is my calling, it's what I'm meant to do with my secret! It'll be so fun with you!"

Any thoughts of playing lesbian cupid were spoiled as Cala didn’t so much ask him to get up, but demand it by tugging on his shirt. “Hey! I’m coming, bitch!” Steve reeled upwards, free hand frantically going to smooth out his shirt incase of any popped buttons. Thankfully, Cala had not inflicted any damage on his new button-up.

“Love public humiliation, we really should bring that back.” Did Chelsey deserve it? Probably not. There was one minor flaw in Steve’s ramshackle plan. “I kinda feel like maybe we shouldn’t hang, draw and quarter her, or whatever. Maybe something a little more lowkey. Easier. She’s kinda…simple.”

Poor Chelsey…

Steve looped his arm through Cala’s, well they were damned to this now, might aswell swagger back towards civilisation together. “So…and you can’t tell anyone this okay because I’m not supposed to be sharing this. Chelsey’s an old colleague of mine. Total moron.” The story spun itself as Steve intermittently stopped to sip wine. “Anyway, so…she’s this junior art director that totally got up on her high horse soon as she made it. Definitely been using the intern for all her ideas. I mean c’mon…lame.”

Steve played coy, which was his way. To be expected. But the way Steve ping ponged himself between superpowers and Lindiwe Tyrell. Another trick he could do effortlessly; Zaid recalled moments with Steve. The man had an ability to hop from one topic to the next, then back again, then swing back, like a metronome. It could spin lesser people into a tizzy, perhaps that was the goal. But Zaid knew he had the advantage here.

Because he'd been here that much longer, and because Steve was Steve: all talk, and so very little substance.

(Except when Zaid needed it, right? Then everything Steve said were important, profound, diamonds falling out of that sneering mouth).

Zaid coolly sipped his drink. It wasn't good, but it wasn't bad either. "Of course it's your place to say, Ste. Look at where we fucking are, no chance of going home. I'm sorry but that's the truth." Another sip, then a jut of his chin to prompt Steve. "So, you think I'm what."

No need to answer Steve's running monologue, as he figured out Zaid's powers himself. Who made a face, at the joke. Zaid had already stated the stupid innuendo of his stupid powers; Steve just piggybacked.

And Zaid's supper-related tease about Lindi was the point - he didn't believe Lindiwe was capable of scandal. She was so friendly, graceful! A little high-strung, but who wasn't these days. So Steve's adamant defense(?) of her therefore seemed a little odd, unnecessary. Interesting. "So how long were you two mates? Was this before or after you worked with Tej, then?"

Steve seemed delighted by Lindi's power, and so Zaid asked curiously, "What is an empath anyway? What's that mean?"

He snatched his wrist back with a snarl. "Bugger off. No one asked you to get involved, mate..." A pause, as more recollections surfaced. "Alright, well. Right, well maybe we - I - did ask a little too much of you, during my...my low points. But you're freed from the tedious life of Zaid and Tej, I promise," Zaid's tone dry and bitter, a perfect complement to the tinned sangria. More silence, deep thoughts, before Zaid quietly added, "You did help, though. Didn't you?"

Steve got Zaid's wrist again, and this time Zaid let him keep it, to study the bracelet. Zaid looked at Steve's bracelet, and murmured in surprise. "It looks like Lindi's. Is this Lindi's? Wait no - her's is a diamond innit. Yours is just...mate is this cubic zirconium?"

Somehow, Zaid was in a better mood when Steve demanded a squirt, and laugh-bragged, "Watch I don't hit your face, mate. Forty-one and still got it, don't I." He wouldn't mind putting on a bit of a show - safely, of course. Seeking inwards though, Zaid felt perfectly fine. No nausea, no feverishness. He sighed. "Right. I erm, I 'expelled' this morning, darling. And I'm still not sure how I build up the energy for another release, either."

But a theory did niggle, didn't it? After Tej. Flickers of light and dark, the sweet scent of Tej's breath on him...Zaid twisted his hand in Steve's, so they were holding hands. Zaid tugged him to the beach. "Just a theory, come on. Let's take a walk, to the Odyssey. Tour's not over yet, darling."

Evidently, Zaid had a bitter net to cast but he didn’t linger on it. Leaving Steve no time to comment on just how helpful he could be. Start to finish, Zaid flung them both on a coaster of extremes, whilst Steve pleaded ignorant to the accelerant he’d sprinkled in.

Steve didn’t really care for the details of his power, but it was moderately interesting enough to know he had to accumulate energy. 

Zaid was unimpressed to say the least with Steve’s egging encouragement to showcase his ability. “Boo you whore.” He didn’t need to agree with Zaid’s fishing, he’d already laboured that point previously. Steve would’ve been happy to let go and forget. Except Zaid had turned it around so they walked hand in hands, towards the ship. “But the wi––” 

Flick of his sunglasses down. “Fine. Also it isn’t cubic zirconium, it’s the real deal.” He held himself up, even as Zaid pulled them both along down the beach. Really? Couldn’t they let go now? Didn’t need to hold hands for the entirety of it. “Tej first, then Lindi, and I don’t think I’ll ever be free of you two, why would I want to be?” They were divinely fascinating. Zaid brought heat and a feverish devotion to Tej, who could do no wrong. Steve somewhat agreed. Tej was a welcome breath of fresh air––too many suck ups, and not enough people who’d tell you as it is. Gorgeous to photograph.

“I’m always available for assistance, but darling I don’t do theories.” Unless they were dripping in bitchy mystery. Steve broke free, but carried along stride in stride with Zaid. “We aren’t going on that thing are we?” He’d already done that once, he wasn’t going to be doing it again. Cute boys were not worth potentially deathly consequences. “Zaid!” Hand struck out in an attempt to stop him in his tracks, holding Zaid to account. “Hold up, ughhh, okay look murder mysteries aren’t really my thing.”

But in truth, Alex was more bemused than upset by Steve's disbelief, since it came paired with some very nice compliments. And for all that he considered himself one of your more down-to-earth regular-joe celebrities, Alex still liked attention and the limelight, and was drinking this up like a thirsty succulent.

Alex: Haven't met Crystal YET but she sounds like a hoot and god knows the more crazy you invite to a party, the better chance you have of that party being MEMORABLE. And yeah that pmuch means we should just invite the lot.

For a brief moment Alex got excited thinking that Steve meant perhaps dick pics, but when the (safe for work) selfie popped up, he raised his eyebrows and made an impressed sound, slipping his phone into the pocket of his shorts and swapping out his tee for a sleeveless shirt instead. No need to show up looking like a slouch, right? Not when meeting a hot guy wearing a gold chain and fucking Loewe chunky anagrams while being shipwrecked.

Alex left his house, then dithered, then went back and darkened his lashline with a kohl pencil and slicked on some glimmery lip gloss before making his way to the bar, where he dropped casually into the seat next to his erstwhile texting partner. "Ayooooooo," he said, with a grin. "Real-plum-boy in the flesh, and now I think you owe me a drink and your name, babydoll."

(alex's clothing change)

Steve flipped his phone over, and looked over his shoulder––as fine in real life as he’d looked in stills. Look Steve was down for a guilty pleasure reality game show as much as the next person, but Alex had only ever crossed his feed in GAY TIMES headlines.

Shame on him.

Steve bopped up, to fetch him a glass, the bottle, and topped Alex up with a touch of juice to take the edge off the cheap chardonnay. “Steve, or Stevie if you think I’m cute.” Those grey shorts were really working hard, but Steve’s attention kept returning to a pair of pink plump lips. Was Alex wearing Lipglass? A queer of his own heart. Steve sighed, and slid back into his seat with a smile.

“The glasses really completed your look, here…” Steve slid off the chunky pair he’d pinched from his Odyssey trip with Lokni, and placed them on Alex’s head. “No contacts so I keep having to wear those over my actual glasses which is a total waste of good sunnies.”

Following the line of well-defined biceps Steve caught a glimpse of a flash of pink, on closer inspection, there was definitely green in his stone too. It was pretty, oh so pretty, which slotted nicely into Steve’s theory that gemstones reflected their owners. Even if not everyone’s did. Steve shirked the rubberised band of his own around so the glossy gem faced down.