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ish	By : teakettleandscone Category: +1 through F > Codename: Kids Next Door Views: 6182 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Codename: Kids Next Door, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 8: operation pounce

proud,
onery
Uno
nicely
ceeds
everything

When the plane touched down, Four hurled himself out of it like a bat out of hell. One promptly rolled into the grass and dry heaved-- if he’d had any breakfast, it would have been a messy situation. Five held on to her equilibrium-- but only barley. Two, seasoned pilot and daredevil of the air, reevaluated his personal concept of physical pain. Kuki’s driving was awe inspiring in its swiftness and lack of regard for law, personal safety or the laws of physics.

“New Teens Next Door rule,” One announced from his position on his hands and knees in the grass. “Kuki may never fly the plane-- she is allowed to drive, but only when accompanied by two or more members. One of the two can watch Kuki, the other can watch out for pedestrians.”

“Aw, Numbuh One!” Three complained, still too merry to sound very serious about it, “It wasn’t that bad!”

“Yes, it was. In fact, it was worse.” Nigel stated firmly.

“But I’ve never had so much fun! I can’t wait to drive us to school on Monday!” Kuki’s eyes glazed with joy.

“The bloody hell you will!” Nigel muttered, using the profanity he rarely employed in his agony at the thought.

The team ate a lunch of nachos and microwave popcorn to restore their lost strength, with Nigel and Kuki enjoying a spot of tea and Wallabee attempting to microwave the Vegemite and pour it on his popcorn as a topping (cursing when the goop refused to leave its jar, much to the team’s relief, as they couldn’t imagine anything more disgusting). Afterward, they all sat in the command center and took up their controllers for a rousing game of Mario Party. After about two hours of Kuki’s nagging, Five smacked her controller down on the couch cushion.

“Five can’t stand to hear an Asian woman whine! If you want to joyride, Five’ll go with you. Maybe if you crash Numbuh Five’s sad-ass Ford, she can buy somethin’ new and sah-weet!” She grabbed her jacket and fumbled for her keys in her pockets.

“But what if I do crash it?” Kuki said, displaying rare realism. “How will we get home?”

Two scrambled out of his seat. “I’ll come with you. The two-by-four tech is not your forte. I, however, know how to save our asses when we inevitably wind up in a ditch. Let me get my toolbox and some parts; go wait in the car, okay?”

As Two, Three, and Five, tromped out of the room, Four couldn’t resist throwing a quick glance ove One One, who was studiously observing Luigi (following Sun Tzu’s advice that one should know one’s enemy). He blinked and scowled as he realized the bad pun in there.

A night alone in the Treehouse with his best friend/object of obsession. It wasn’t like it hadn’t happened before, say, when Three went to see the latest Rainbow Monkeys movies and whined until Two and Five came along (no amount of persuasion, however, could budge Four, or ‘I’m ALWAYS too busy!’ One). Even though it had happened before, and happened while he had a thing for One-- he couldn’t really remember when he hadn’t had a thing for One, in some incarnation or another-- this time had an aura of importance. Four knew he might be being overdramatic, but he was an intuitive person who usually survived and won fights by trusting his instincts. Right now, his subconscious was warning him to expect big things from tonight, and he heeded it and filed that information away.

“Four, c’mere a sec,” Five called from the doorway of the TND garage (a recent addition-- One’s sixteenth birthday present from Two, in fact). Reluctantly, Four dug himself out of the couch. It was the kind people sank into- the kind that claimed keys and hamsters, the kind into which comic books disappeared and were never seen again. Four walked over to Five. “What did you need me to come all the way over here for? I was comfy!”

“Sitting six feet away from One? I’ll bet. Now, when you sit back down, you have an excuse to sit closer. But Five didn’t counteract your comfort to talk about this Junior High stuff. Five’s gonna keep the gang occupied tonight. You have until morning to go for it.”

Four pretended not to understand, even as the blush marched over his fair cheeks like an invading army. “Err, dunno what you’re suggesting! We’re gonna play video games long into the night and avoid discussing Lizzie for the prevention of domestic violence. You know, guy stuff. Straight up old guys stuff. The kind just plain old buds do--”

Five’s open palm connected solidly with the side Four’s babbling head. “Sometimes, you so stupid Five dunno why she even bother. If Five don’t arrive home tomorrow morning to find two less uptight team members lying in a pool of things unmentionable, she’ll not only be surprised, she’ll be damned disappointed.” Her eyes narrowed. “And you know how Five don’t like gettin’ disappointed.” She slammed the door, then, as an afterthought, reopened it. “Condoms in my top drawer; lube in the bathroom on the sink; and various other related items in the black box under the bed. Numbuh Five likes to keep it clean and safe. Good luck!”

She left him there, flabbergasted at her bluntness, a bit horrified, and very much intrigued by the possibilities she laid before him. He glanced over at his best friend, too absorbed in contemplation of Luigi to have heard anything. Four sighed deeply. No way in hell did he have the courage to tell One how much he affected him, much less… more blushing ensued.

It was midnight before Luigi was soundly thrashed. Wallabee and Nigel crowed with delight as they vanquished the infuriatingly smug, green-garbed Italian.

“Why’s he smiling like he’s all that?” Four had groused earlier. “’E’s a bally plumber. If I were a plumber, I would realize that I didn’t get no smirkin’ rights.”

“He’s smiling,” One replied through grit teeth, “because he’s kicking our asses. Gah! Damn!” He wailed in frustration as Luigi’s team won another mini-game.

But now the game had been turned off in favor of talking. One and Four sat up in opposite corners of the couch, legs stretched out. ‘Nearly touching,’ Four thought a trifle nervously.

“I don’t see why you’re so anxious to go back to England after high school,” Four complained. “Miserable, rainy, cold, nastier food than even what’s in the school cafeteria- what’s wrong with staying in California?”

One rolled his head on his neck to relieve the crick in his spine. “If I go to a California school, that means Berkley. How lame is it to go somewhere your dad teaches? There’s a lot of opportunities to live the wild life.”

Four snorted. “To you, living the wild life is six back to back missions, extra chemistry homework and spicing things up by drinking oolong instead of Darjeeling. You couldn’t be wild if you tried!”

One pushed his sunglasses a bit down his nose to give his friend an amused glare. “I’m tame? This from the guy who, if I recall, was thoroughly bested by me during the Boyfriend Helmet episode.”

“Rub it in, why don’t you?”

The phrase hit Nigel interestingly. “I intend to,” he muttered, nearly to himself. “Besides,” he brightened, “It’s not like I’m going into no-man’s-land; I mean, you’ll be at Oxford with me--”

“What? When was this?”

Nigel blinka bia bit confused. “Well, I just assumed. You’ve kept up a great academic record, and if we start reviewing for A levels, there’ll be no problem passing with flying colors. You’re captain of the wresting team and head of the debate team-- why wouldn’t you get in?”

“It’s not a matter of getting in-- I never said I wanted to go in the first place!”

Wally was getting severely irritated. Nigel’s constant assumption that he would perpetually be around as his sidekick-- dependable and thus uninteresting, really unmanned him. The fact that Nigel was dead right pissed him off even more, but Wally wasn’t about to let the facts get in the way of a good argument.

Nigel was aghast. “You’re being ridiculous! Look, if you really have a preference, we can talk about going somewhere else, but really, I didn’t think you did! Forgive me for assuming that your disdain for academia stopped at this point.”

“I’m not mad about flipping Oxford-- I’m mad because you think I’m going to go wherever you tell me, like I’ll always be your dog on a very tight leash!”

And wasn’t that an interesting image? Nigel thought before pushing it away completely, embarrassed of his own thoughts.

“You completely take me for granted!” Wally continued the long penned-up rant.

“So what then, you’re going to suddenly pick up sticks and leave me alone? How could you-- why in God’s name would you do that?” Nigel’s tone became off, even a bit panicked. “Why would you want to part, Four? Are you unhappy? Did I do anything?”

“Don’t ‘Four’ me in that pathetic tone,” Wallabee snapped, specifically to hurt the other boy’s feelings. “Did you do anything? Constantly ignoring me isn’t enough? Dating someone I tell you I don’t like, constantly-- Christ, what do you have to do before you realize you’re being cruel! You’re so clever, why don’t you get anything?” Wallabee was so furious he shook a bit.

It was so very wretched of One, to be so oblivious that it seemed almost intentional, to be so much his friend that he missed all the clear subtext. I don’t want to be your friend, Wally thought with sudden welling disgust, I want to be your everything. I want you to want to throw me down and take me, to have me forever, but not just ‘around,’ not just as something comforting and predictable. Why didn’t Nigel need Wally half as much as Wally needed him?

There was a fundamental inequality in their relationship. Nigel wanted his girlfriend, wanted his career, wanted a well-planned out future. All Wally wanted was Nigel. He wanted everything Nigel had to give, true, but where Nigel’s concerns encompassed the world, Wally’s were limited and intensified. It was so heartbreakingly unfair that Wally could almost strangle Nigel for somehow doing this to him, except that he knew if he touched the other boy he wouldn’t stop until he’d done something irreversible and stupid.

“I never ignore you-- I value you highly!” One was dumbstruck. He didn’t try to hurt Four, not ever. He-- he damn-near adored him! He couldn’t understand; it wasn’t like Wally to be so evasive, so patently unfair. Nigel would never try to hurt his best friend, the person he most… cared about in all the world. Surely Wally knew that?

“What in hell don’t I get?”

“This!”

And then Wallabee Beatles reared and slammed into Nigel, knocking into him before he really had a chance to defend himself, pinning One’s arms above his head with such ease it was as if Four had practiced the very move a thousand times, and smashing his lips into those of the prone boy below him.

‘Oh,’ thought Nigel with odd clarity, ‘that.’

Four kissed him desperately. If he got one kiss, it would be a damn good one. He tried to express everything he’d felt, to bring to bear all the pressure of the long wait in that one embrace, but found it too confining, kissing Nigel again and again to better articulate. It was in this process he found his kisses being reciprocated. He was so caught up in trying to make Nigel know everything before he had to face the boy’s confusion and disdain, so wrapped up in his own angst, that initially he didn’t notice.

Nigel, always stronger and more skillful in the martial arts, easily freed his arms out from under the pinning hands of the distracted boy.

No, Wallabee thought, horrified, as Nigel tried to push him off, nonononono, it wasn’t NEAR long enough, and now that I had a chance, I still want what I wanted before, only more!

“Wallabee,” Nigel panted, breathless, looking up into the other boy’s earnest, frightened face, brushing a soft, blonde strand that had loosed itself from the bowl cut, away from Four’s eyes, “Four,” he continued, a bit stronger, “Don’t do this--”

And Four felt his stomach tighten and drop, his world fall away, rushing past him--

“Don’t do this unless you’re sure.” Nigel continued. “Because I’m sure. Wallabee. I-- I love you.” He gulped and repeated himself. “I love you, and, and I want you, and if you don’t, if you just want-- then I don’t want to do it on those terms--”

“Nigel,” Four dove down and slipped his tongue behind the still moving lips, “Bloody idiot,” he concluded when he came up for air, “I can’t even remember not loving you. Are you going to warble on, or will you get off the moral high horse, come down here and fuck me.”

Nigel smiled blindingly. “I can think of nothing I’d like better.”

“Mm. Then get on with it.” Four’s impatience was palpable. He hated waiting; he was a man of action. Rather, a horny teenage boy of action whose body sprang into action at the slightest provocation-- and it had been plenty provoked right now.

And because Nigel was, likewise, a hormonal young man with a long courtship to consummate, flipped his teammate over and grinned like the Cheshire cat. “With pleasure,” he concluded, slipping down Wallabee’s eagerly arching body with a smile.
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