#kipps x reader

--- Kipps ---

Quill Kipps had always been an exemplary agent. He had learned how to hold a rapier at age six, he had memorized the Fittes manual of psychical interventions from cover to cover by age ten and he kept up with the recent progress in technological discoveries against visitors. He had been both a team member and a team leader, he dedicated his free time to work on extra projects with DEPRAC and he often referred to Inspector Barnes as his mentor. However, in this exact moment, he had no idea what he was doing.

This new mission was probably the biggest opportunity he had been offered so far. It said long about his achievements, and hopefully he wouldn’t have to worry about the future as much as he did now. That was if he didn’t mess it up. He didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t. Too many people relied on him already. He had been offered this job specifically because he was qualified. He had made himself a reputation and he was going to uphold it. He had to keep going, it was too late to turn back, and now was not the time to doubt his abilities. Heaven knew uncertainty had a bad habit of creeping up on him in the worst moments lately.

He sat at his usual table in the Archives, newspapers in hand, and silenced the unwanted voice in his head as best he could. This part should be the easy one, he had practically taught Bobby everything he knew about research. The first step was observing. He needed to get familiar with this attacker’s preys of choice. If he could even start to draw a motive, it would be even better.

The attacks weren’t on the front page, or anywhere to be found in the first five pages. The department of internal affairs might be discreet but it seemed they knew how to pull some strings. It looked like they didn’t want to tarnish the agency’s reputation or give ideas to the wrong people. The details of the different cases were not mentioned. The articles mostly boiled down to a straightforward description of the assault and the state of the affair, whether it was ongoing or if DEPRAC had already caught the assailant. They hadn’t of course, otherwise he wouldn’t be there. He didn’t mind the gaps in the stories, the Fittes database would fill them quickly enough. What worried him was the apparent randomness in the assailant’s choices. He had been at Fittes long enough to recognize some of the names cited in the articles. The victims didn’t seem to have much in common. Some were team leaders, some usually stuck to research, some had always been with Fittes and some transferred from Rotwell a few months back. It started to feel like the assailant had a personal vendetta against Fittes, and the reason why remained unclear.

He got up to make his way back to the headquarters, determined to clear up the motive by looking into the details of the cases. Unfortunately, one more obstacle showed up in his path. At the other end of the corridor stood Lockwood, looking as annoying as ever. The boy rolled his eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s called research Tony. I wouldn’t expect you to know what that is.”

The boy sighed again and turned around.

“No George or Lucy to keep you in check today?”

“They’re meeting Barnes for a case actually. You know, the one you turned down? It’s probably for the best though, less casualties.” He retorted with that annoying grin of his.

“I’m”-

I’m working on a much bigger case, he wanted to say. A case that would save lives. A case that will, once solved, protect countless agents against dangerous threats. The whole point of said case however was to remain secret for the time being.

Lockwood looked back at him with an arrogant frown.

“You’re what?” he asked, “a terrible team leader? I think we both know that.”

He turned around before he could respond.

Kipps thought about calling after him, but his dignity would take a critical hit. That irrelevant prick wasn’t worth it.

            --- Reader ---

The coffee shop was buzzing with activity. The chattering of agents and the noise of the coffee maker were hammering in her head, using up the energy she had tried to save all afternoon for what she hoped to be a successful evening. The customers kept coming in, all looking annoyingly fresh and energetic. Their day was just starting after all. She served them one after the other, methodically avoiding the nauseating wannabes hoping to get a free drink. She had a few leads for the night; she figured she’d pick the one she wanted on the moment, listening to her instinct.

A few customers away, she noticed a familiar face. The respected and celebrated Quill Kipps was chatting with a colleague. She had seen him several times in the paper, often with a proud, military-like picture next to an impacting quote about Fittes and its latest prowess. He didn’t look like his picture. At least not at the moment. He looked uncomfortable, avoidant, dismissing his colleague’s questions with worry. When his turn came to order he latched onto her with round eyes, turning his whole attention to his order, leaving none for the girl accompanying him.

“What’s going on with you?” the girl asked.

He quickly turned his head back to her. “I’ll tell you more when I can. I promise.”

He winked and focused back on y/n, ordering right away to keep his friend from responding. What was he hiding? She tried to keep herself from staring. She didn’t want to seem too intrigued by his behavior. She poured his order and sealed the cup, trying to ignore his stare she could still feel on her. When she handed him his coffee, her eyes lingered despite her best efforts, but so did his. They stared at each other for a second too long. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the other customers waiting, including a familiar annoying face, and turned back to her job with a strange feeling in her stomach.

The next customer happened to be an old friend of hers; and by friend she meant victim. Well, was he really a victim when he had held the entire line, refusing to move, until she caved and wrote a fake number on his cup? Thankfully that time he kept a low profile and didn’t try to push her again. He mumbled his order and didn’t look her in the eye, probably in an attempt to hide the bruise she had left on his jaw. She was ready to forget about him when she heard Kipps ask the guy if he had a minute. She stepped behind the coffee maker, pretending to meticulously clean its every nook and cranny while casually leaning in.

“It all happened so fast, I’m not sure I’ll be able to help you out…”

“Do you remember anything at all?”

“Well, his face was covered so I couldn’t identify him but he was strong. He did this.”

She assumed he was showing the team leader his bruised skin. She kept her eyes glued to the machine when the voices got further. She turned back to see the both of them standing close to the counter. She ducked, pretending to look between the cartons of milk.

“A friend of mine has a case near the place where I was attacked. You should check it out, it’s on Bastwick Street. You can probably catch him if you leave now.”

The idea was tempting. It was also risky to say the least. She had done no recon, no preparation of any kind, but Quill Kipps was looking into cases that she was involved in. She had to know more, even if it was dangerous.

As it turned out, following Kipps on a whim hadn’t allowed y/n to learn more about what he knew. It did however earn her another income. When she was standing in the dark narrow street near the house where the agents were working their magic, she realized that she hadn’t thought her plan through. She didn’t even have a plan. She had followed him from a safe distance as if she didn’t already know that he would supervise a case and see if a relic man showed up. She thought about leaving. It would have been the smart thing to do. Don’t draw attention to yourself, keep a low profile. She hadn’t listened to the voice in her head. Instead, she recognized his silhouette when he exited the house, silver net in hand, and she did what she did best. She threw him against the wall, not anticipating the strong resistance in his shoulders. She had thought it was simply his uniform that made him look like a square. She pushed him again, this time with her foot, the strength of her leg throwing him against the wall. His left arm took the hit first, knocking the source out of his hands. She grabbed it before it could hit the ground and dodged Kipps’s attempt at grabbing her mask. She ran to the opposite wall and scaled it like she did every time. She didn’t look back until she was several blocks away. Her heart was racing in the best way, adrenaline coursing through her veins, and a smile was plastered on her face.

            --- Kipps ---

Staring at his empty coffee cup, Kipps couldn’t focus long enough to read the article in front of him. He hadn’t slept a wink after the case he supervised the previous night. He was supposed to get a lead; all he got was a sprained shoulder. He sat up straight and the movement triggered the pain again. He clenched his fist out of frustration, unsuccessfully trying to shut off the memory. Whoever was behind this would pay. He’d make sure of it.

A loud burst of laughter erupted in the foyer, chasing away his thoughts.

“They assigned me the Hanbury case! Can you believe it?”

The obnoxious agent bragged about how “easy” and “career boosting” that case would be. The Fittes committee had already discussed it thoroughly in assembly, using said case as an opportunity to train dozens of agents on research methods and source identification training. Solving it wouldn’t boost his career, especially not if he kept shouting confidential information like this.

“And it’s just two blocks away! We’re gonna be done so quick, they even want to keep the source for a while so we don’t have to go to the furnaces!”

Kipps crossed the space separating him from the group in two strides.

“Keep your voice down!”

He looked around him, noticing the DEPRAC agents, the line of applicants, the two janitors exiting in the left corner, the coffee shop a few feet away. So many potential suspects standing within hearing distance of this moron. He started to get an idea of how his suspect could have gotten information on where to get sources.

“Why do you think it’s okay for you to discuss your cases loudly in a public place like this?”

“Chill out man, we’re inside Fittes! Besides, who do you think you are to talk to me like that?”

“I’m your supervisor for the night now, idiot. You better check your tone while we’re on the case.”

“Whatever, mate.” The prick retorted.

He walked away before he let his anger inevitably boil over. What kind of HR mistake had allowed this guy to work here? He hadn’t slept enough to handle this. Now he had another case to prepare on top of the dozens of cases already on his plate for this mission. Just when he thought of giving up to go home, a familiar face approached.

“Hello, Mr. Kipps!”

An idea popped in his head.

“Bobby! Just the person I wanted to see!”

The boy’s face lit up. Kipps explained that he needed detailed files on a list of cases. The names of the agents, the address, the source identified, and any comments he judged relevant to mention.

“Do you think you could deliver those by tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll do my best! What is it for?”

“You’re the best Bobby!”

He left before he could ask any more questions. He hated how he avoided his team lately. First Kat, now Bobby… Asking for his help without explaining why felt wrong. He had always valued honesty among his team. It was a valuable part of bonding with his peers to always be their best on the job. Trust was fundamental for him. All this secrecy was weighing on his integrity. Truly, the reason why he dismissed them was because they would see right through him.

After looking up the details of the case of the idiot he would be supervising, he headed home to get some sleep before heading there. His shoulder was already a disadvantage, he didn’t need to head into a fight with slow reflexes. He assumed the next case would be the same, but his luck could run out. It was fortunate that the first lead he followed ended up being the choice of the assailant too. However, his gut was telling him that his colleague of the night hadn’t bragged about his case just in the foyer.

The rest he got and the two cups of coffee he drank before heading back out did the trick. With renewed confidence, he headed to the Hanbury case, devising his strategy for the night. He thought back on what he did wrong the last time he got ambushed. He needed to watch out for nearby cul-de-sacs and always keep his hands free. The attacker wouldn’t have a chance if he managed to get his rapier out in time. He would be on full alert as soon as he stepped out of the house.

However angry he had been earlier, he was now grateful to have such a conceited colleague. When the familiar shadow emerged from the alleyway, he already had the source tucked safely in the jacket of his uniform, coupled with a secure tie to his belt. His free hands reached for his rapier faster than the night before, and he threw his opponent against the wall before he could get too close. The assailant cried out and Kipps lost his composure for a split second. The cry had sounded feminine. It completely changed the idea he had built in his head of who his adversary could be. He had been a fool from the start, and he realized he hadn’t been paying attention to the right people, losing precious time. It was such an easily avoidable mistake. The masked woman pushed back, bringing him back to what mattered most at the moment. He pressed his blade tighter against her throat, regaining the upper hand.

“Careful, sweetheart. You wouldn’t want my blade to slip.”

He held his head high and she looked back at him with fury. Her eyes lit up, like she wanted to retort something clever. She refrained, probably scared of what would happen if she opened her mouth. First smart thing she did that night. They stared at each other for a few more seconds, her struggle useless against his grip. She stopped resisting when she realized that pushing back pressed on her lungs. Despite his hold, she wasn’t panicked. She deliberately held his gaze in a cold, calculating manner. He couldn’t look away. There was something hypnotic about the deepness of her eyes, even in the barely lit corner where they were standing.

“You had to know it wouldn’t last forever, right?” he asked in a low voice. “Hunting Fittes agents could only end badly for you. We’re the best after all.”

He smiled, but it was bittersweet. Something was creeping up his neck, like his hair was standing up. Cold sweat. Shivers. Fear. A visitor was nearby. His eyes darted to the entrance of the alley, where a ghost lamp shone dimly. That was all he could see. He looked back at his adversary who was looking in the same direction. Did she have talent? He frowned, but before he could think, her heel collided with his foot. He lowered his rapier, the bolt of pain throwing him off. She threw a well-placed punch that triggered the injury in his shoulder before he could stand straight again. He toppled over, the air knocked out of his lungs. He fell to the floor, holding onto his hurting arm. When he looked over, she was already gone.

            --- Kipps ---

Even though he had brought back the source safely and handled the case without too much trouble, Kipps’s night had been short. First because his opponent was strong. He didn’t know who she was, but he knew she could throw a punch. His night was also cut short by his alarm set as early as possible, to make sure he would be at the headquarters first thing in the morning. Even though he didn’t have a name yet, he had made significant progress regarding the identity of the assailant and most importantly how the agents were getting targeted. The department of internal affairs would certainly instate new discretion policies and the sooner the better. They didn’t need any more attacks targeting their agents.

Before heading to the fifth floor, he grabbed a much-needed cup of coffee. It was early and the place was deserted at this hour. Aside from the two supervisors seating by the window, the only other face was a familiar one. The barista who had served him the other day was standing behind the counter, a tired look on her face.

“Good morning,” he started with a thin smile.

“Double espresso?”

Despite the crowd when he was there last, she had somehow remembered his order. That or he looked more tired than he thought. She handed him the cup and, just like he did last time, he felt a bolt of electricity run through him at the brief contact of their fingers. He looked up at her and stared into her eyes, captivated. This felt familiar, and not just because he had been there less than twenty-four hours ago. There was something about the way she looked at him. A brick fell on his head as the realization sunk in. All sleep vanished from his eyes. He tried his best to remain casual. A polite smile. A nod. He then ran for the door. He had done it. Three days to solve a high responsibility mission. He could practically feel his future career securing as he climbed the steps two at a time. He didn’t even need the coffee in his hand anymore, he’d never been more energized.

He walked up to the door and knocked loud enough for the whole floor to hear. Mr. Richardson opened immediately, like he had been waiting for him, and pulled him in before hurriedly closing the door behind him.

“There’s been another attack,” the man said.

Kipps couldn’t help the smug smile tugging at his lips.

“I think you mean attempted attack.”

The man didn’t seem to hear, the worried look not leaving his features.

“An agent died. Another one is in the hospital,” he said in a grave tone.

Kipps dropped into his seat. How was this possible?

“How did… Where did…”

He couldn’t think straight.

He knew it was her. He had seen it with his own eyes. He had stopped her, he knew who she was. It was over. Did she somehow flee to another case and kill an agent after failing to steal a source from him? Questions flooded his mind.

“The case handled by Miss Grunewald and her team on James’s Street went awry at 8:42pm according to the remaining members of the team,” Mr. Richardson explained. “A masked relic man attacked them and let nothing stand in the way of getting to the relic.”

“You need to find the person responsible, and quick.” The man pressed.

“But I-”

“We have no time to lose. Find the culprit and enough to put them behind bars for good. You have two weeks.”

Another brick. ‘Enough to put them behind bars’. All he had was a look and a hunch. He had worked with inspector Barnes long enough to know that relic men cases didn’t lead anywhere unless the investigator could prove means, identity and undeniable proof of wrongdoing. He wouldn’t lose face in front of his superiors. He nodded and swore to bring them to justice before exiting the room.

He drank the double espresso tightly clutched in his hand in three gulps. His exhaustion was back tenfold. How had she done it? He was with her. At the time of the attack he was on his way back to Fittes. He wondered if she could have had the time to escape and make her way to the other case. Had she grown desperate after she failed to steal the source he had on him, enough to kill an agent? If he’d given up, would his colleague still be alive?

He went back to the coffee shop. That girl would not leave his sight. Enough people had gotten hurt already.

“You’re back so soon?” she sent him a puzzled look.

“Looks like I’ll be here all day.”

“You might want to ease up on the double espressos then.” She grabbed the largest cup available, poured one espresso and filled the rest up with caramel syrup and milk. A comfort drink.

“On the house,” she winked as she handed him the cup.

He didn’t let the gesture fool him. He took the seat next to the window but made sure she was still in his sight. When he wasn’t watching her, he kept an eye on the door to the building. Bobby would be there soon with the research he had asked him.

The boy was at the door earlier than Kipps had thought. His arms were filled with papers and files. Enough reading to keep him busy while he waited for his target’s shift to end.

“Hello, Mr. Kipps, here are the documents on the cases you asked.”

Kipps had always liked how reliable and helpful Bobby had been every time he worked with him. He thanked him with a smile.

“Will we see you tonight on our case? Ned has had some issues with our supervisor lately,” he said, but Kipps was only half listening.

“Bobby, would you do me one last favour?”

A tinge of guilt pierced through him as he ignored the boy’s comments.

Bobby nodded, eager to help.

“Can you ask me the same question but louder, and mention this street.” He slid a paper across the table.

The boy sent him a puzzled look but obliged. His acting skills weren’t perfect and his voice was exaggeratingly loud. It worked though. A few heads turned and the barista’s attention was caught.

“I’ll gladly assist you, Bobby!” he replied, just as loud.

The girl’s eyes lingered a minute longer before returning to her work. He felt confident the first part of his plan was accomplished.

He spent the rest of the day reading through a dozen of casefiles, taking notes on chronology and notable points for each attack. The earliest attack he found dated back a year. At the time, the only cases where he could find a clear intention to target Fittes were spaced out, only two or three per months. Until three months ago when the attacks became more regular. Once a week then several times a week, jumping at an alarming rate. The past month was the worst, with a peak of one attack per day. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t been informed sooner. Truly, he was disappointed that he hadn’t paid close enough attention to realise what was happening on his own.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed movement behind the bar. A face he hadn’t seen before was serving a customer, and the familiar silhouette disappeared in the back. He gathered his research, quickly storing everything in his bag, and made his way out to look for the back exit. He reached it just in time to see her crossing the street. The chase was on.

--- Reader ---

At first, she thought she was imagining the footsteps resonating behind her in every street she took. She checked the reflections in the windows of the cars parked there and saw him keeping his distance but watching her closely. She took the next turn left and heard the footsteps that had followed her hurry behind her. Good, she had picked the right street. She spotted the narrow alleyway ahead. He was so predictable. She stationed herself right around the corner, her back against the wall, waiting for him to turn in three, two, one… When he inevitably turned into the alley to trap her, she had already grabbed the knife strapped to her ankle. She threw him against the opposite wall, blade on his skin, relishing the terrified look on his face. That was for last night, you asshole.

“Why are you following me?” She knew why. The recognition in his eyes had been too clear this morning.

“We both know why I’m here, sweetheart.” The surprise faded from his features and was replaced by arrogance. She jammed her elbow between his ribs, knocking the air out of him. If not scared, at least he looked uncomfortable.

“Why the creepy guy followed the girl walking alone into an alley? Yeah, I get the picture. No regrets then.” She pressed the blade harder against his throat. His eyes widened slightly at the threat.

“I know you’re the one attacking Fittes agents,” he claimed while holding her stare. Even with a knife to the throat he still thought he had the upper hand. She rolled her eyes.

“Wow, a creep and a snitch. Don’t mind if I do.” She let her blade draw blood, the drop rolling down his neck to stain his precious spotless uniform.

“I just want to talk!” he cowered, his hands raised as best he could in surrender.

“Talk about what?”

“Did you kill an agent last night?”

The blade slipped slightly between her fingers. She might have preyed on Fittes agents, beat them up, but humiliating them was much more fun than killing them. She held his questioning eyes without a word.

“If not you, then who did?”

It would be easy to think him reasonable in that moment, like you might have a reasonable conversation with him. He almost looked ready to hear her side of the story, but she was reluctant to give him the benefit of the doubt. She weighed her options. He knew about her, more than that he had recognized her. She might have been wearing a mask and he might not have any concrete proof, but he had followed his hunch and tracked her down. He wouldn’t back off easily. That made him her biggest target yet, and she had every reason to get rid of him. Permanently.

She stared at the knife to his throat and thought of pressing it deeper, get it over with, but she knew too well that it was only to scare him more than anything else. She would never kill anyone, she’d promised herself that. What did that leave her? She needed time to think, see if there was any way around the mess she was in. His eyes were still set on her, intently watching every twitch of eyebrow like he was trying to read her mind. From what he said, she wasn’t the only one he was after. Maybe she could use that, turn it to her advantage.

Reluctantly, she withdrew the knife from his throat. He took a deep breath. She really had scared him. She grinned at his disheveled appearance. It was a good look for him, it took some of the smugness off. He tried his best to regain his composure.

“Come on,” he said with a tilt of the head, “I know a place where we can talk.”

She had noticed when walking here that it was a very residential neighbourhood. Streets lined with identical houses, very few shops, and even fewer people at this hour. It was safe to assume he was referring to his own flat, unless he was working with someone else.

“I’m not going anywhere with you. We can talk here.”

He looked around with a perplexed look. “We can’t discuss this in public.”

“There’s no one around, it’s almost curfew.”

“Only agents and accredited people can walk around past curfew. How didn’t you get caught?”

“I’m not telling you anything until I know what’s in it for me.”

“Talk or I call DEPRAC.”

“To tell them what?”

“I’ll tell them all about what you’re really doing at the Fittes coffee shop.”

“Serving coffee?”

He scowled. She had to admit, it was fun to get on his nerves.

“Stop playing dumb,” he raised his voice. “I recognized you this morning. You’re the one who attacked me. Twice!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She feigned ignorance. He really didn’t have any proof, maybe she would be okay. She started to turn back to leave him stranded in the alley.

“I won’t let this go. I know how you pick your cases, I know how you operate. And you can be sure that I won’t let you out of my sight until I make sure DEPRAC sends you to jail.”

She stopped in her tracks. Was he bluffing or was he really able to make her life hell?

“Oh, and I’ll make sure that you can’t work anywhere near the Fittes headquarters. You know, just to be safe.”

Her grip tightened around her pocketknife. She wanted to cut the complacent smile off his face.

“What do you want?” she asked through gritted teeth.

“A deal. I need information on another relic man. Help me and I’ll let you keep your job.”

“Just to rat me out the second you don’t need me anymore? Pass.”

“Fine. Help me and I won’t go to DEPRAC. On one condition: you stop robbing Fittes agents.”

“Luce, I’m not so sure I can do this anymore.” You looked to the redhead next to you, shrugging your rehearsal bag further onto your shoulder.

“You said that last year.”

“Well last year I didn’t have to dance with him.”

Lucy opened the school door, a heavy sigh escaping her. “He’s not that bad once you get to know him.”

“Correction: he’s not that bad to you.” You swung open your locker door, wrestling your duffle bag into it. “You guys are friends we are…”

“Two people with intense sexual tension.” Lucy interrupted as you trailed off. A quick smack to her thigh was received.

“Not every rivalry has sexual tension.”

“No, but yours does.”

“Oh shut up!”

“Why is Lucy shutting up?” You looked up to see Norrie wrapping her arm around her girlfriend.

You stood up and began walking to the choir room. “She’s trying to convince me that I have sexual tension with that asshole.” You gestured to the lanky figure at the front of the room, fixing his hair in the mirrors whilst vehemently arguing with George.

Norrie gave you a look as if to say ‘Is she wrong?’ which left you shaking your head as you walked to the front of the room.

“Ah, my vice captain. Nice of you to join us.” Lockwood poked.

You raised your eyebrows. “Vice captain?”

He nodded. “Like a presidency? I’m the captain, you’re my vice captain.”

“You’re mistaken. I’m the captain and you’re my vice captain. I mean,” you crossed your arms in an effort to seem more nonchalant, “I have more experience as a captain, being the dance captain of Elegance too.”

“If I was a girl, there’s no doubt that I would be the dance captain of Elegance and you would be my vice captain there too.”

“There is no such thing as a vice captain. You’re co-captains. Sit down.” Barnes spoke, gesturing to an empty spot on the risers.

Lockwood leaned to whisper quickly in your ear, “He only said that to save you the embarrassment of losing that argument.”

You flicked his thigh, whispering back a, “Fuck you.”

He gave you a wolfish smile in return. “In your dreams.”

You simply rolled your eyes. You don’t truly remember when you really began hating Lockwood. You suppose it had always been that way. You never really spoke much except for talking about choir in history your freshman year, and even then it was brief comments about upcoming concerts. Then came your sophomore year with a shared English class, which began this weird competitiveness between the both of you. Though you have to admit, your rivalry was the primary reason you escaped that class with an A. But that didn’t make him any more bearable.

You turned to your right to see Lucy already looking back. She mouthed ‘tension’ before flashing an innocent smile and turning towards your director. 

“Your show this year will be a kind of romance-y theme. Think rom-com. Weird tension to soulmates.” Lucy nudged you. “To combat any… hormonal drama,” you cringed at his words, “we’re gonna pair you up for the show. You’ll each get a designated dance partner, bond with them throughout this season. Learn to trust them. There will be a lot of partner dancing.”

“Just make smart choices.” Holly smiled. Barnes gave her a quick thumbs up for her addition to his little spiel.

“Our first pair is our two dance captains.”

“Kill me now.” You muttered through gritted teeth.

“Kill me first.” He muttered back.

You were in for one hell of a season.

The first rehearsal was admittedly rough. Every chance you and Lockwood had, you were whispering insults underneath your breath or coughing while the other demonstrated a move.

By the fourth rehearsal, you and Lockwood began to trust each other in your dancing. And even began to bond a little. Sure you still traded little insults whenever he stepped on your toes (or vice versa), but for the most part you became friends.

By the tenth rehearsal, you realized you actually enjoyed your little dynamic. Your hatred turned to teasing and you even began talking to him after rehearsals. This of course earned you more teasing from Norrie and Lucy, but soon even George began to join in as your friend group developed.

Next thing you knew, it was the night before your first competition. You turned to Lockwood after your final runthrough of the night, hoping to give him a high-five, but was caught off guard as he ran his hand through his hair. Dancing and singing was no easy feat so you weren’t surprised that he was sweating, it was just the fact that you found his sweaty hair attractive. It was probably just the stage lights, but you quickly found yourself staring at him.

“You alright?”

You quickly nodded, shaking yourself out of your thoughts of, well, him. “Just thinking about our competition tomorrow.”

“Hey, we’ll be fine. It’s not our first time competing against Fittes. There’s nothing to be worried about.”He reassured as your face dissolved into one of horror.

“Shit.” Lockwood raised an eyebrow at your choice of words. “Kipps.” You answered. His brows furrowed.

“You worried your boyfriend isn’t gonna like our show or something?” You shook your head in dismissal, your face changing to one of disgust.

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore. Cheated on me with Kat Godwin about a month ago.”

“Oh, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” You shrugged off his sympathy till his lips forged into a grin. “It’ll make our win even more rewarding. We’ll put that motherfucker in his place.”

“Yeah, except there’s one step of our little revenge plan missing.”

“Oh?”

You nodded. “In my heartbreak, I may or may not have made an ill-advised decision. And let's say that I told him that I already found a new boyfriend.”

“Oh.” You nodded, pursing your lips as the reality of your situation sunk in.

“So we need to find you a boyfriend.” You nodded. “They don’t sell those at the supermarket, how are we gonna find one overnight?”

“You don’t.” You sighed. “I’ll need to find someone to fake date me for the season.”

“One hiccup with that plan. Fake boyfriends aren’t sold at the store either.”

You nudged him with your shoulder as you began the walk to your car. “I know they don’t. But to get the ultimate revenge, I happen to know someone who he very much hates.”

Lockwood paused beside you, leaving you to turn to him, facing the consequences of your suggestion. “You want me to fake date you?” You gave him a sheepish smile.

“Maybe?”

You watched as he considered it in silence. “If I said yes, I would be doing this the whole season?”

“Preferably.” You watched as he fiddled a bit with his ring. A habit of his you began to notice more as you increasingly spent time together. “But only at competitions. The rest of the time you can go back to hating my guts.”

“I don’t hate your guts. I never have.” You felt heat begin to creep into your cheeks at his words. Maybe you won’t have to worry about finding a fake boyfriend overnight if you get sick before the first comp. “So we’ll just piss off Kipps?”

“Only at comps,” you assured. You sat in silence once more, the cold February air leaving you impatient at the length of his consideration. He was likely finding the best way to turn down your proposition.

You turned to walk away, reaching your car door as he called out, “Let’s do it, babe.” You looked to see him wink at you, feeling the heat flush once more. “Let’s get our revenge.”

You sent him a smile, climbing into your car, and hoped that the feeling in your stomach would subside before tomorrow morning.

The bus ride to the competition was spent huddled over your phone resting atop your shared mountain of garment bags, conversing the details of your fake relationship, and drinking a coffee that Lockwood gave you earlier that morning. He told you they gave him the wrong order and offered it to you, saying it was “too sweet” and that he only wanted an americano. Luckily for you, they mistakenly gave him your favorite latte.

By the time you arrived at the competition, you were a bundle of nerves just itching to finally perform. A quick glance at the clock (and your comp itinerary) left you and Lucy in a rush to find your dressing room to get ready for your performance with your girl’s group, Elegance.

You and Lucy stood backstage after your warmups, watching your stage crew and band load on. You fidgeted with your dress as you double checked your heels were on the right feet. You made that mistake once in a rehearsal your freshman year and vowed to always check before each performance. Just in case. It was a superstition you’d developed.

Thinking of superstitions, you grabbed Lucy’s wrist, giving it a quick tap as you watched Barnes motion you all on stage. Taking your places, the show began.

It was an utter blur, the adrenaline melding the whole show together into what felt like seconds, until your solo began. As you grabbed the mic, you looked to the audience and finally acknowledged the brunet boy sitting front and center. You met his eyes from the stage as he smiled brightly at you. With a quick wink in his direction, you returned the mic to the stand as the rest of Elegance returned from their costume change.

The bows began too soon. You could’ve spent all day on that stage just to know that Lockwood was watching you. He was smiling at you. And not one of his teasing smiles, a real smile.

Still in your costume, you met him in the hallway, running to give him a hug.

“You were incredible. That was incredible!” He was muttering in your ears, as he placed your feet back on the ground.

You simply smiled up at him, caught up in your proximity to him. It wasn’t uncommon to hug people in the midst of a post show reverie. It’s just that you’ve only ever been so close to him when choreographed. It felt different to feel his hands on your waist when it was a choice of your own volition. Your attention shifted as you felt a tap on your back.

Lucy, who you lost earlier in the hallway as she ran to find Norrie, was now pulling you back towards your homeroom to get changed.

“What the hell was that?”

You looked at her. “What the hell was what?”

“Your sexual tension turned romantic.”

“It did not.”

“It did.”

You jumped. “Jesus, George! Where did you come from?”

“I was right next to Lockwood. You were just so caught up in your little rom-com moment that you didn’t notice me.” You frowned.

“Not true, it was not a rom-com moment.”

“You literally just reenacted running through the airport to stop him from flying to Amsterdam to start a new life without you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t kiss him,” Lucy added.

You simply groaned in response. “Lockwood and I are just friends who are fake dating.”

The two raised their eyebrows. “That’s new.”

“That’s really new.” George agreed.

“Kipps is here. We’re trying to piss him off.”

The two nodded. “You’re going for a Proposal kind of thing.”

“Luce, what does that even mean?”

“We have to get you caught up on your rom-coms.” Lucy nodded at George’s comment.

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. Just, if Kipps asks, Lockwood and I have been dating for a couple of weeks since the breakup.”

And with that, you entered your homeroom to change back into your normal clothes.

“They’re hopeless, Luce. Hopeless.”

“They’ll figure it out sometime soon. Just give them till the end of comp season.”

Once changed, you met Lockwood in the cafeteria, the two of you looking for a seat in the expanses of the cafeteria.

“Well, what do we have here?” You steeled yourself at the sound of your ex’s voice and looked to Lockwood who had already spun around.

“Kipps. What a surprise.”

“Tony! Always a misfortune to see you here.” He turned to you. “I see you’ve become the rebound for our little princess over here.”

“She’s not your princess.” Lockwood stepped forward as you reached for his wrist. “Why don’t you find someone else to bother? I’m sure some of Tendy’s kids are getting bored without someone to insult.”

Kipps simply ignored Lockwood and looked at you. “Tony? Really?”

You let out a dry chuckle. “I could say the same thing about Kat.” Kipps’s face twitched with anger as you continued. “And at least I found someone who actually cares about me, something you could never manage.” You laced your fingers with Lockwood’s. “And his name is Anthony, not Tony.” And with that you pulled Lockwood away.

When it was finally time to perform, you found yourself fidgeting backstage again. Lucy quickly tapped your wrist, leaving to go back by George, her own dance partner. Still toying with a sequin on your dress, you glanced at Lockwood whose hair was in spikes as he continuously ran his hand through it.

“You look like a mess.” You whispered. “Are you always like this before a performance?”

He only nodded. As stage crew was almost done loading on, you quickly grabbed his wrist to stop him. “There’s no way I’m letting you go onstage like this. You look like you’ve been electrocuted. Can I fix your hair for you?” He simply nodded once more as you went on your tippy toes to fix it, wobbling a bit in the process. Lockwood’s hands flew to your waist to steady you, giving you a rush of that same nauseous feeling in your stomach. You brushed off the thought, rationalizing it as nerves, and quickly admired your work with his hair. Adjusting his tie, you flashed him a smile. He responded with a simple squeeze to your hips before he turned to see Barnes gesturing the choir onstage.

The performance was a whirlwind, and before you knew it, Lockwood was dipping you in his arms, his hands supporting your waist. He gave you a little squeeze, identical to the one before you began performing. A large smile had engulfed his features, as he pulled you out of the dip, twirling you as you both exited the stage to the sound of a thundering applause.

“Holy shit.” You exhaled a laugh and turned to Lockwood.

His hands had found their way back to his hair, spiking them up yet again. You found yourself thinking back to yesterday’s rehearsal when he had done the same thing. Without the stage lights, he somehow looked even more beautiful, with his leather jacket pulled taught around his arms. He smiled at you before leaning in to whisper, “We put that bitch in his place.”

You simply laughed along with him, walking back to the homeroom to meet up with Lucy, George, and Norrie.

Later that evening, your choirs were huddled together in a corner of the vast auditorium awaiting the emcee to announce the finalists. In a swarm of the students, one Lockwood was missing, leaving you frantically searching for him. Swatting a sophomore from the seat beside you, you felt Lucy lean over to whisper, “You’re whipped.”

Her words were quickly forgotten by the arrival of the boy holding a pretzel. He tore a piece, squeezing through the row to settle beside you. “Want some?”

Wordlessly, you took it, and turned your attention back towards the stage as the emcee, one Mr. Fairfax, entered. Reaching to Lucy, you linked pinkies with her.

“Going first in your large mixed finals is Tendy High School Swing Sensations!” Squeezing Lucy’s pinky harder, you felt Lockwood’s knee knock into yours, his hand opened beside him, inviting yours.

Lacing your fingers, you heard Fairfax continue. “Second in the large mixed finals is Bunchurch High School Encores!” You felt your body tense. Only two more finalists.

A thumb brushed over the back of your hand, softly. Like a whisper of comfort that one was unsure to offer. You squeezed his hand again. He squeezed right back.

“Your third finalist tonight is Fittes Academy Vocal Excellence!”

You dropped your head, holding your breath to better hear the announcer. “And last but certainly not least, Portland Row High School’s Fusion!”

You exhaled, leaning over to Lockwood and linked your arms with his. “One step closer to revenge.” And with a smile you turned back to Lucy to discuss the possible results of the competition.

On the way to your warm-ups, you felt Lockwood reach over to lace your fingers together. Looking up at him, you saw the pure anxiety on his face. Squeezing his hand, he turned to you, his brow unfurling ever so slightly.

As the Fittes crew exited their warm-ups, Kipps shoulder bumped Lockwood, knocking him into you. His once anxious features dissolved into one of anger, his jaw clenching.

“He’s only doing that because he knows he can’t win.” Lockwood turned back to you, taking a deep breath before the warm-up began.

Once again huddled backstage, you checked down at your shoes while Lucy tapped your wrist again.

“Can you fix my hair again maybe?” Lockwood whispered.

Back on your tippy toes, you checked his hair and straightened his tie. “Are you superstitious, Lockwood?”

Without words, he squeezed your hip before turning to wait for Barnes’ directions.

On the stage, you only got to see Lockwood performing. With his big smile and irresistible charm, it was impossible to think of the boy you saw backstage. The one who holds your hand and squeezes your waist. You’re not sure which Lockwood you liked more: the dazzling performer or the one who needs you to fix his hair. Once your second number was finished, you hit your pose, one Holly was quite proud of. It’s not necessarily even a pose, it’s just a hug. In your quick embrace, you heard Lockwood exhale into your ear, quiet enough to not be picked up by any of the mics, but loud enough for you to hear his words.

“I like when you call me Anthony.” As Norrie began her solo, your mind kept repeating his words. It was as though he was stuck in your head; a broken record on repeat. You found yourself suddenly relating even further to the ballad as you began to sing once more.

Once the bows commenced, you met Lockwood’s eyes as he dipped you for your final pose. It was then you decided that the Lockwood you liked most was Anthony. And as he twirled you offstage, you felt that same nauseous feeling settle into your stomach.

Smiling at him, you rushed to find Lucy and Norrie. “You were right,” you whispered. “Our tension has gone romantic.” Lucy grabbed your elbow, pulling you closer to the wall. “He told me he likes when I call him Anthony.”

“What, during our show?”

“Yes!”

“When is there time to do that?” Norrie asked, huddling around the two of you. “We’re singing the whole time.”

“He whispered it during the hug. Before the ballad.”

“Oh shit.” The two whispered. “Well is it so bad that he maybe has a crush on you?” Lucy continued on. “We’re all waiting for it to happen.”

You ran your hand through your hair, squeezing your eyes shut. “No! No. He doesn’t have a crush on me. I have a crush on him.” The two shared a look before turning back to you. “Telling your friend to call you by your first name is normal. It’s the fact that I can’t stop thinking about it that’s throwing me off.” 

“Well it happened only 10 minutes ago, I’d say it’s fine to think about it after such a short duration.” You groaned.

“It’s not that it’s recent. I don’t get thrown off by things like that. Especially not onstage. He’s gotten into my head.”

“What he’s gotten into is your heart. Is that so bad?”

“Yes! Because it’s Anthony fucking Lockwood! We’ve hated each other for years, he’s only being like this because of forced proximity. Or a bet or something.”

“Keep telling yourself that. But the longer you deny it, the worse it’ll get.”

You sighed, beginning down the hallway. “I just need space from him. It’s just like a showmance, right? None of this is real.” You began nodding slowly. “I don’t like Lockwood.”

“No, you don’t. You like Anthony.” You smacked Norrie’s arm and entered the auditorium, finding Lockwood’s leather jacket over a chair. As soon as he noticed you, he began waving his arms, leaving you no choice but to shimmy your way down the rows and into the seat beside him.

“Thanks, for saving me a seat.”

“Anytime. What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn’t save a seat for you?”

“A pretty crappy one.”

“Well many sources have said I’m the best fake boyfriend on the market.” You wrinkled your nose.

“What are they grading you on?”

“Charm, chivalry, and chemistry.” You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t think the person who judged you had their proper credentials.”

“Rude.” He whispered, as Fairfax entered the stage.

Reaching for his hand, Lockwood laced your fingers together and gave you a quick squeeze.

“Your third runner up, from Bunchurch High School, it’s the Bunchurch Encores!” Snapping with your free hand, you felt Lockwood’s grip tighten. “Your second runner up is the Swing Sensations from Tendy High School!”

You closed your eyes, bending your head as you awaited for the caption awards to be announced. “Best vocals go to Fittes Academy Vocal Excellence.” Holding your breath, you heard Fairfax continue. “Best visuals awarded to Portland Row High School Fusion!” You let out a sigh of relief. There was still a chance.

“And now, for our first runner up. From Portland Row High School, it’s Fusion! Which means that Fittes Academy Vocal Excellence is our Grand Champion. Congrats!” Jumping up and down with the rest of the choir, you turned back to Anthony.

“Sorry we didn’t win.” You bumped your shoulder into his, breaking him from zoning out.

“Why are you sorry? I’m sorry I talked it up so much.” You shrugged. “We’ll get our revenge at the DEPRAC comp, right?” You smiled at him.

“Until then, you’re off duty as my boyfriend.”

“You know? I was really starting to like it.” You watched him wander over to George before Lucy tackled you from behind.

“First runner up for our first competition means we can only go up.”

“Let’s hope so.”

Three weeks later, you found yourself smashed in the bus seat with Anthony for three hours. Holding an empty latte cup— they messed up his order again— you had dozed off on his shoulder halfway into the ride. Feeling a shove, you woke up to see the high school in front of you. The DEPRAC Invitational was an exclusive competition filled with dozens of the best show choirs from your area. You were lucky to even walk the halls.

Placing your garment bags in the homeroom, you heard your name being called.

“You’ve got the solo today.” You looked at Barnes quizzically.

“What solo? Elegance isn’t performing today.”

“Norrie’s out sick. You need to cover the solo.” You nodded. You had auditioned for the 

song earlier in the season so you knew the part. But covering for Norrie left some huge shoes for you to fill. “Can I trust you?”

“Yeah, I’ve got this.”

Meeting Lockwood in the cafeteria, you told him about the switch before being interrupted.

“Come to lose to the big dogs again?” This time it was you turning around first.

“Fuck off, Kipps!”

“Woah, calm down, sunshine. It was just a question!” Lockwood scowled. “And remind your little guard dog here that you were mine first. We both know you’ll come crawling back in the end.”

“That’s enough, Kipps. Leave my girlfriend alone.”

“Sure thing, Tony. No one wants a slut like her anyway.” And with that, Kipps turned sharply, leaving the two of you fuming.

“If it didn’t mean getting us disqualified, I would have kicked his ass for you.”

“That’s not your job to do. I can handle myself!” 

“I know that but I’m your boyfriend I wanna-”

“You’re not my boyfriend!” You seethed. Not sure where this anger with him was coming from, you stormed off to avoid any further arguments.

You avoided him for the rest of the day, only going near him to fix his hair and tie or to dance. You didn’t squeeze his hand or hug him after performing, despite his attempts to compliment your solo.

As finals rolled around, you found yourself more anxious than ever before. As Lockwood squeezed your waist one last time, you finally met his eyes before snapping out of his trance. You refuse to get blindsided by his pretty brown eyes, but distancing yourself from him was impossible as the whole group was packed like sardines in the wings. With a small smile, Lockwood turned around and entered the stage.

As the second song ended, you realized the breath you were holding as Lockwood posed in your hug again. His breath warm against your ear he whispered again. “I want to be your real boyfriend.” Masked by the applause, you allowed your breath to stutter before the music to the ballad began.

Departing his embrace, you grabbed the mic with shaking hands. This love song, this twisted and toxic depiction of love you were singing about found a resolve deep in your bones, the chills of the rest of the choir singing behind you settling across your skin. The fear of a boy who found a chink in your armor resounded in your heart and the anger of a confession you were too blinded to accept. It felt like hours when Lockwood finally squeezed your hip one last time as you twirled off stage.

Gripping his leather jacket, you pulled him into a hidden vestibule, the adrenaline of your performance still coursing your veins.

“What the hell was that?” You seethed.

“The truth.”

“Couldn’t the truth have waited?”

“You’ve been avoiding me all day! When else was I supposed to tell you?”

“Never! You were never supposed to tell me!”

He groaned, running his hands through his sweaty hair. “I had to tell you! It was killing me! I’ve wanted to be your boyfriend since freshman year. And the second I finally thought I had a chance with you, you came to school with that stupid Kipps as your lock screen. How do you think that felt?

“To be second place to an asshole like that for so long! I hated how I still liked you, so I pretended to hate you. To drive you away. And it finally worked! But the instant you asked me to fake date you was like a dream come true. I couldn’t deny it anymore that I still wanted to be yours. To even pretend you actually reciprocated any feelings was as good as any other. But it wasn’t enough for me! I need you.”

“You’re making this up. You got caught in the whirlwind! It’s just a showmance!”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do! You don’t mean any of this and you’ll regret it all by next week. Trust me I’ve-”

He pulled your waist, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Grabbing his lapels, you quickly found yourself kissing him back. Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he further pulled you into him till your bodies were fully flesh against each other. Pulling away, you tried to lean back in but he further pulled back. “Since you’re so sure it was fake, there’s your proof. I’m done waiting for you.” And he turned down the hallway.

The second you snapped from your daze, you ran to find him, but he was already lost in the crowd. Finding Lucy, she pulled you aside, taking you to Barnes. “Found her!”

“Perfect, where’s Lockwood?”

“Behind you,” you turned to look at him but his attention was fully on your director.

“You two are our reps for awards tonight. Got it? Head backstage.” You both looked at him. “Now!” Turning back towards backstage, the two of you departed, a heavy silence falling over you.

“Can we talk about this?”

“What is there to talk about?” Crossing his arms, Lockwood turned from you.

“Anthony, please?”

“Some lovers quarrel.” You look up to see Kipps and Kat. “This is just your first heartbreak of the day. Can’t wait to watch you lose.” And with that, you were beckoned on the stage for the presenting of awards.

“Your second runner up, from Rotwell High School, the Rhythm Makers!”

You brushed your pinky against Lockwood’s, smiling when he relented and linked them together.

“Your vocal caption award goes to… Portland Row High School Fusion!” Your smile spread further as Lockwood squeezed your pinky. “And our visual caption award goes to… Fusion again!” Turning to smile at Lockwood, you found him already looking at you.

“And now, for your first runner up.” You began holding your breath, squeezing Lockwood’s pinky even tighter. “Fittes Academy!” Your jaw dropped as you began smiling in realization. “Congratulations to our Grand Champions from Portland Row High School!” 

Holding the caption awards and trophy, you and Lockwood watched as the rest of your choir joined you on the stage. Each given a medal, tears and hugs were shared. Exiting the stage, you grabbed Lockwood by his medal, pulling him back to that same vestibule.

Pulling his lips to yours, you felt his hands find your waist, squeezing it gently. “Revenge is only fun if it’s real.” You muttered, lips still brushing gently over his. “This is real for me, Anthony.” Looking into your eyes, he pushed your hair back before capturing you in another kiss.

You felt him begin to smile into it, brushing his thumb over your cheeks. Reaching to play with his hair, you deepened the kiss until finally pulling apart for air.

“I think we should kiss after each performance.”

“Yeah?” He looked at you, the teasing smile you were so familiar with painting his face.