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Cody’s known Pete for like, two years now. They’ve lived together for all of it, saved the world through most, and they’re kind of best friends, seeing as they’re really the closest in age and they spend a lot of their free time together.
(Well. Alright, correction. Pete is Cody’s best friend, because he can’t quite shake that he’s the new kid on the block even two years on; there’s five years of history in total, and three before Cody even thought about becoming someone worth caring about in any kind of capacity. He’s still making the missteps the rest of the group has long since gotten over. And Pete is the one who gives him the most grace, who sets aside time to hang out with him, that explains things slowly and doesn’t mind the repeats. Ricky does too, sometimes, but Ricky would rather be anywhere else most of the time and Cody knows it.
He’s stupid, not dumb.
So Pete is Cody’s best friend, but Cody is one of Pete’s wider circled acquaintances that he babysits occasionally.)
(Okay, maybe that isn’t fair either. Pete babysits Cat and Al. Pete fucks around with Cody, in more ways than one.)
All that to say, Cody knows Pete pretty damn well, so when he’s grabbing a Monster and seeing if Josh left any eggs he can scramble for breakfast one morning and hears Pete yelling something in the bathroom followed by a loud crash—well, that’s probably a sign something is wrong.
Cody books it up the stairs two at a time. He might have left the refrigerator open. He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care. If Pete is hurt—if someone broke in—if he’s surging—if Nod is under attack—
“Pete?”
The bathroom door, which had been cracked before Cody opened his stupid mouth, shuts firmly. Cody collides into it, but he knows better than to try to open the door. He just knocks awkwardly.
“Pete? Are you okay? What happened?”
“Go away!”
Cody recoils back. He’s…definitely in distress, but Cody can’t quite place the underlying tone. He’s always been bad at tones. It could be sad, or it could be rage, or—well. It’s hard to say.
“Are you hurt?”
“Why the fuck would I be—oh, for the love of—”
The door opens just wide enough for a hand to grab a fistful of Cody’s shirt and tug him inside sharply. Cody goes, unbalanced but easy for Pete the way he always is, and lets himself get slammed against the door as Pete shuts it behind him. Then it’s just him and Pete, with Pete pinning him to the door much closer than they’ve been in—weeks, honestly. Cody scans him with his eyes several times, checking for anything he can lay on hands, but there’s nothing immediately visible. His hands float just an inch away from Pete’s biceps cautiously.
“I’m not hurt,” Pete deadpans, his top lip curling. “Cody, what the fuck are you even talking about?”
“You made a noise,” Cody says, feeling stupider than ever. “I got worried. I didn’t know what happened. Like, if someone was breaking in, or—”
Recognition flashes and Pete relaxes suddenly, looking much less peeved and way more apologetic. “Oh. God, sorry, I’m—” He gestures in the air, stepping away and leaning back against the counter. “No, I’m not hurt. Um, thanks, for checking.”
Cody sags a little against the door, tilting to see Pete’s eyes again. “…did something happen?”
Pete groans, covering his face, then pulls his hands away and gestures at one of his cheeks. Cody stares, but he doesn’t see anything, so he looks at Pete’s eyes instead. Pete gestures again, more pointedly, then sighs and turns to the mirror so he can inspect the spot himself.
“Y’know, I figured after this long on testosterone, maybe—maybe—I was done with this shit,” Pete grumbles. “But no. Cystic fucking acne.”
Cody visibly relaxes. Just acne. Just Pete, a little upset. That, he can handle.
“I’ve got acne stuff?” he offers, tugging open the medicine cabinet. “It’s, uh, this weird shit I stole from a cousin one time. You take a q-tip and—”
“I don’t need anything, I’ve got wipes,” Pete mumbles.
“No, seriously, it dries it right up, and—”
“I said I don’t need anything,” Pete snaps. Cody freezes, only just able to keep himself from cracking the bottle under the sudden pressure in his hands. Something is…happening, in the air around them, and it’s making every hair on his body stand up—but then it passes, and when he looks back Pete is pale and staring at Cody in horror. “Oh, god, Cody, I—I am so sorry—”
“It’s fine,” Cody says immediately, putting the bottle back. “No, hey, man, I shouldn’t have pushed it—”
“That wasn’t you,” Pete promises, his shoulders hunching a little. “No, fuck, that was—I almost surged.”
That draws Cody up short, and his own apology dies on his lips. Pete surging is…not normal. It’s happened a few times, to be sure, but usually in battle—never in the apartment—and never at Cody, either. The knowledge that it almost did makes Cody stand up a little straighter.
Okay. It’s a problem. And he can solve a problem, can’t he?
“Are you feeling okay?” Cody clarifies. “Are you sick?”
“I guess so?” Pete says, fumbling past Cody to check the medicine cabinet. “I took my meds and stuff, I took my shot, I…everything should be good.”
As sneakily as he can, Cody brushes a hand over Pete’s shoulder and casts a very quick lay on hands just in case. He watches Pete shiver and snap his head up to stare—wrong move—?
No. Right move, in fact, because Pete tilts his head to one side and smiles softly.
“Thanks,” he says, gentle as ever.
“No problem,” Cody says. “Um, is there—I mean, I dunno if I can do anything, but do you want me to—try?”
“Nah,” Pete says, stepping back to the mirror and inspecting his face. “Well—okay, maybe that stuff you were gonna show me? Since I guess the wipes aren’t doing what they’re supposed to for now?”
So Cody gives him a tutorial, then heads back downstairs. It’s not the end of the world. Pete was just having a bad morning, probably, and Cody helped a bit, and even by Pete’s admission that afternoon it was just a fluke and he’s back to feeling right as rain.
That notion comes crashing down pretty damn quickly when, in the next Dream Team meeting, Pete snaps again.
Cody’s always on the outside of these. He never knows more about what they’re facing, so he’s delegated to standing next to Pete and Ricky, nodding along, and keeping his mouth shut. Normally it’s a fairly quick chat, but something must be in the air, because Kingston is laying down some pretty heavy insinuations and it’s clearly pissing Esther off, which is making Ricky stiffen, and Pete—
Well, fuck. Pete has his hand shoved so hard into his jacket pocket that Cody can hear some of the threads starting to pop.
He hears Kingston use a tone that Sofia normally shuts down, but she’s at home with Cat, who isn’t feeling super well or something—so it’s Pete that claps back.
“Kingston, can you not just shut your fucking mouth for ten seconds and listen?”
Cody goes stiff, his eyes cutting to the back of Pete’s head, and he watches Kingston puff his chest up and tilt his head back.
“I don’t like your tone, Pete,” he starts, but he barely finishes getting it out.
“I don’t like that you’re being a fucking asshole and not listening to Esther!” Pete says, gesturing wildly at Esther. He nearly hits Cody. He doesn’t seem to notice. “She’s telling us that she’s done the ground work—”
“I don’t see how, unless she was putting Al in danger and we all know she—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Pete hisses, and Cody swears he gets a little taller as he does.
Okay. Maybe it’s time for an intervention, and if Pete’s not happy about it Cody can just—take it. That’s fine. He grabs Pete around the waist and pulls him back a few feet, stepping into the line of sight so Pete can’t keep glaring at Kingston.
“Pete,” he whispers. “What’s the damage?”
Pete’s lip is curling again. (His acne has only gone down a little.) “He’s not listening—” he starts to yell.
Cody puts his hand over Pete’s mouth. “Watch it. Easy. Slow, like I don’t understand what’s going on, because I don’t. Why are we mad at him?”
“He’s being a dick!” Pete says, shoving Cody’s hand away. “Why the fuck are you in my business all of a sudden?”
“Because you’re acting like a toddler who missed nap time,” Cody replies dryly. “Seriously, just—you two can have a civil conversation. I know it. You do it all the time.”
“What the fuck do you know?” Pete says sharply, then pushes past Cody to start charging at Kingston. “And you’re supposed to listen to—”
Cody snatches him again and this time just holds him, wrapping him in a bear hug from behind. It’s not nearly as effective as if, say, Ricky did it, because Cody can barely bench his own weight, much less Pete’s. But it’s enough to stop him moving forward so fast at least.
“Will you get off of me?”
Cody glances at Ricky desperately. “Do you have, like, calm emotions or something?”
“I am calm!”
There it is again. Cody feels his whole body tense, and Pete’s too this time, just as Ricky opens his mouth to speak. All of them freeze, waiting, and then suddenly Pete shoves himself back into Cody’s arms and it dissipates again.
“…shit,” Pete whispers, starting to tremble. Cody shifts his grip from restrictive to gentle, pulling Pete in for a hug instead. “Shit, Kingston, I’m so sorry—”
“You best not raise your voice at me like that again,” Kingston says. Even Cody can hear the thinly veiled anger, but he pushes it aside. “What’s going on, Pete? What was that?”
“He was gonna surge,” Cody says quickly, letting Pete turn in his arms and hide his face in Cody’s chest. “This, uh, happened the other morning too. Over the, um—he was having a bad morning? And then he yelled at me and almost surged, and then it went away.”
“Esther has weeks like that too,” Ricky says solemnly, nodding, and Cody—
Well, before he can even feel the way Pete goes stiff, Cody tugs the sword on his hip out of its sheath just enough for the threat to be clear. “Watch it,” he hisses.
Ricky didn’t mean anything by it. They all know it. But it doesn’t make it easier, and it doesn’t make what he said go away. Pete shrinks into Cody’s touch, and he wonders idly what Pete’s feeling—if the mere comparison to a woman was enough, or if he’s spiraling further than that.
Ricky’s eyes go wide and he holds his hands up, opening his mouth to apologize and hesitating when Esther touches his arm.
“I didn’t—mean it like that,” Ricky says quietly. “Hey, Pete, I didn’t—”
“Stop,” Cody says sharply. “Just—shut up, man.”
“Cody, it’s fine,” Pete whispers, but he’s not pulling away. Cody holds on tighter with his one arm.
“I know, man, but he’s gonna dig himself a hole. Absolutely not. You’re sorry, you didn’t mean it, just—shut up.”
Kingston clears his throat quietly. “When Cody’s the one talking sense, you know it’s bad,” he says dryly—
(And this isn’t about him, but Cody’s pride is wounded. He’s not helpful, and he’s not smart, and he’s not the one people listen to. He doesn’t know things. And double especially, Kingston of all people doesn’t admit Cody knows anything.
Shit’s worse than he thought.)
“Okay,” Cody says, as calm as he can. “It’s alright. Listen. Esther did some of the ground work. Kingston, if you want to backtrack it and do it yourself, fine. Do that. But we’re not gonna wait for you to do that, so just…your own prerogative. Ricky, Esther, unless you guys have anything else…?”
Esther is frowning softly at Pete. “…there is one thing,” she admits. “I, uh, noticed the other night that…well, Nod looked a little different. I stopped by to talk to Alejandro, and I ran into the Grey Baby, Pete. Have you guys…talked, recently?”
Pete pulls back, but not fully away. “No,” he admits. “Not physically. Nod every night, y’know, but…why? What was wrong?”
“They look…” Esther grimaces. “…different. If you and Cody maybe wanna go check it out—”
“Nah,” Kingston says, shrugging his jacket on. “If something’s wrong with Grey Baby, I can help. Cody, you can do the backtrack.”
He nearly argues. He nearly snaps. He nearly pulls his sword out, yells at Kingston, flips his shit—but Cody doesn’t, because he’s still the new kid, the intern, the fresh meat, even this many years on.
“Fine,” he says, letting go of Pete. “Hey, man, keep me updated, okay? If you need me, just call.”
“Or any of us,” Ricky adds helpfully.
“Okay,” Pete says, looking only at Cody. “Yeah, I will.”
It takes too long for Cody’s liking. Almost a full hour after Pete and Kingston depart for Nod, he gets a text—fifty whole fucking minutes? When Pete’s feeling bad and something might be wrong? Cody is “patrolling” when it comes in, which is more him just wandering aimlessly down a single alleyway over and over again.
The text reads simply:
news
Cody tries not to jump to worst case scenario. He’s not very successful.
good? bad?
neither. come home
So. Cody walks into the apartment he shares with Pete and some other people and finds the entire Dream Team—Sofia included—standing around the kitchen island. Pete perks up a little and waves, but he stays firmly between Kingston and Sofia. Everyone else just sort of…looks.
“About time,” Pete jokes.
“I was doing what Kingston told me to,” Cody says, trying to sound nonchalant. He sounds like an asshole, if the way everyone looks at him is any indication. “I didn’t know.”
“I just texted him,” Pete explains to the group, and everyone…relaxes.
(Cody doesn’t want to be Pete. He just wishes he could grant everyone the same ease that Pete does.)
“Are you alright?” Cody asks, and he decides fuck it and steps around so he can find a spot next to Pete. There’s plenty of space by Ricky and Esther, or on the other side of Sofia, but he walks right up to Pete and watches the way Pete immediately makes room, carving out a slot between him and Sofia.
“Kind of,” Pete says gently. “I am, anyway. It’s uh…” He looks at Kingston, who gestures for him to speak. “Alright, so what we figured is, Nod is going through a kind of…puberty. It’s not bad, and Grey Baby said it’s happened before and usually always reverts. It’s just, uh, a matter of getting through it.” Pete shrugs with one shoulder, glancing up at Cody. “It’s just that last time, there wasn’t a Vox Phantasma around while it happened, so I’m sort of the guinea pig.”
“So what does that mean?” Cody tries to ask, but he’s drowned out by Sofia.
“So, are you like, going through your own puberty?”
“Sort of?” Pete shrugs. “We’re sort of guessing through it, but that’s what Kingston thinks. So, um…” He looks up at Cody apologetically. “…look, man, I’m gonna be a nightmare, we’re pretty sure, and with—you know, Nassir and Josh and everybody—and I spend so much time babysitting Cat anyway—”
Cody’s whole body goes numb all at once. Outwardly, he’s pretty sure he keeps it together, because Pete keeps talking and includes more of the group as he does, but—Pete’s leaving. Pete’s moving out. Pete’s…
Well, what good is Cody if he’s not there to help protect Pete?
He ducks his head and stares at his shoes, thinking hard. Okay, so this is—what, them soft launching kicking Cody out of the team, right? He can be okay with that. He can—extra hours at work, if he’s not worrying about coming home and making sure Pete is okay. He can spend more time with Avery catching up, and—maybe he can pick up smoking in earnest—?
A hand on his arm pulls him out of it and he looks at Pete in surprise. Pete stares at him, expectant.
“Huh?”
“You didn’t hear a word of that,” Pete surmises.
“No,” Cody admits, clearing his throat. “Uh, no, I didn’t.”
Pete nods, fighting a smile. “Okay, well, when did you tune out?”
“Can I just get a TLDR?”
Pete smiles wider now, opening his mouth, but Kingston beats him to it.
“You’re gonna have to keep a close eye on this area,” Kingston says pointedly. “Can you do that?”
“Oh,” Cody says. “Yeah, I can—easy.”
“Less time, uh, gaming, or whatever it is you—”
“I’ll go down to twenty hours a day,” Cody tries to joke, but it lands flat the way it always does. He looks away from everyone, nods, and squares his shoulders. He’s not looking at Pete anymore. “Um, so, is this a moving out party, or…?”
“I’m still gonna have a room here,” Pete says immediately. “I don’t wanna jack up everyone’s rent again.”
Cody nods again, staring at the pile of mail on the edge of the counter. “Right. Cool. I was just asking so I could know if I needed to make extra dinner or something.”
“…no,” Pete says, but he sounds…different. Distinctly less enthusiastic. “Cody, listen, it’s not personal—”
“I know. Vox Phantasma stuff. It’s important.” Cody nods again, giving Pete the shadow of a smile and stepping out of the self-carved spot that wasn’t even his in the first place. He goes for the mail, just in case—he can keep track of Pete’s mail. He can be important that way. Keep an eye on the neighborhood, and keep up with Pete’s mail. Those can be his jobs.
“Cody—“
“Hey,” he hears Kingston say, and Cody starts rifling through the envelopes, trying to seem nonchalant. “It’s alright. Give him some time. Big adjustment.”
There’s a small silence, then Esther hums. “What were you going to make, Cody?”
“Dunno,” he shrugs. “Whatever we have. Popcorn and chicken strips, probably.”
“I don’t know how he keeps that figure,” Sofia whispers loudly, and one of the envelopes slips from Cody’s hands onto the floor. He stares at it, tensing his jaw, and picks it up slowly.
“Cody,” Pete says again, closer now. Cody still does not look. “I’m sorry, man, I wasn’t trying to—”
“You’ve got your job,” Cody promises, his voice softening the second he lays eyes on Pete again. “You gotta take care of Nod and New York. It always comes first. It’s not a big deal. And if you ever need backup, you know where to find me. I’ll watch the neighborhood for you guys.”
Pete’s face creases in concern. “I’m not—you’re acting like we’re never gonna talk again. I’ll still stop by sometimes—”
“Okay,” Cody says, as easily as he can. (It sounds like he’s swallowed a nail. Or seventeen.) “You’ll be around, sometimes, and I’ll be here, and if something happens on either end we know who to call.”
(I’ll call you, and you’ll call anyone else.)
Pete’s face has almost completely fallen now, but Cody stops looking. He pulls out a single envelope—junk, probably, but it’s got Pete’s name on it so—and hands it to him dutifully.
“It’s all for New York,” Cody says with conviction. “City comes first. And it’s like you said, it’s not personal.”
“It’s not personal,” Pete echoes sadly.
“So.” Cody kind of gestures at the room, at all the expectant faces he’s supposed to be standing tall in front of, and grimaces. “I’m making dinner, so unless anyone else wants some…”
The crew disperses, but Pete and Sofia linger long enough for Pete to grab some of his things. He stops in the kitchen doorway—and Cody is aware, because Pete’s gaze always stings when it’s turned on Cody—but he doesn’t turn around, so Pete leaves with a quiet goodbye and nothing else.
Cody sticks to the popcorn that night.
Two days later, he gets a text—from Kingston, no less.
You should call Pete when you get a chance.
Cody stares down at his phone. It’s not like he’s going to get in trouble for having it out at work, but he’s been trying to stay off it, because seeing how dry his notifications are now is verging on painful. In fact, he’d rather be decapitated than think about it too long. Somehow it would hurt less.
is he okay?
Never said he wasn’t. You should call him.
i haven’t heard from him. i just need to know if this is because something is wrong
Nothing’s wrong, Cody. Just call Pete.
Cody grimaces, because he knows Kingston is already annoyed, but—
is it time sensitive? i can get someone to cover the rest of my shift if i have to
No. Just whenever you get a chance. No danger. No one is hurt. Pete is fine.
It’s not great. But it’s confirmation. Cody spends the next hour of his shift chewing on his tongue like it’s an Olympic sport, and as soon as he can he takes off from his podium and books it to the staff room. His lunch is only half an hour, but that’s surely enough time to assess the situation. Right?
Pete picks up on the second ring. “Cody?”
“Kingston told me to call you,” Cody says immediately, breathless—maybe he didn’t need to run, but if something’s wrong he wanted to be able to hear it—
Pete groans quietly. “Oh, I told him not to—I was gonna text you later. I thought you were at work.”
“I am. I can get someone to cover my shift if—”
“Cody—Cody, listen, I’m okay. I’m fine. I’m not hurt, nobody is in danger.” Pete’s voice is soothing, and Cody knows it’s intentional. He takes a deep breath and tries to relax.
“Okay,” he says. “Is—I mean, so—”
“I just…might’ve told him I missed hearing from you,” Pete admits quietly. “I dunno, man, I know you were bummed, and it’s been a few days, and—I’m sorry Kingston freaked you out, Cody, seriously. I told him to leave it alone.”
There’s a sour taste in Cody’s mouth. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”
“…do you, uh, have plans tonight?”
Cody catches a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the microwave. He looks like shit, and he feels even worse—all that time, worked up over nothing. He feels like a fucking moron.
“Sort of?” he says sadly. “I’m trying to figure out new patrol patterns.”
“Oh. Hey, that’s—thanks. For that. For helping out and stuff.”
“It’s what I can do,” Cody says. It’s not quite what he means. “You promise you’re okay?”
“Yeah, Cody, I’m okay. I’m sorry about Kingston. Just—if you ever do have a free night, we should hang out. Movie, or dinner, or—you promised you’d show me that Minecraft world and stuff—”
Mundane things. Easy things. Cody hesitantly perks up a little. “…I’m really proud of it,” he admits. “Um, I can…you know, I could probably figure out the patrols a different night. And I’m off work tomorrow too.”
“Can I come over?”
“Yes,” he says immediately, and Cody has never felt more like a dog in his whole life. He can feel his proverbial tail starting to wag at just the smallest hint of attention from Pete—
His best friend Pete, who might be better friends with the rest of the world than him—but at least Cody makes the list at all.
He makes real food for dinner, and Pete sneaks in and scares him, and everything is pretty normal and great. As if he never left at all. They end up crowded around Cody’s computer setup while he runs around his Minecraft world. Pete is leaning over the armrest casually, his hand extended over Cody’s lap, and Cody is slouched down as he maneuvers his way around the block house on the screen.
He’s in the middle of explaining how he decided the colors for the living room when Pete taps his thigh a few times. Cody looks over abruptly, immediately attuned. Pete always does seem to have that effect on him.
Right now, Pete is staring at the screen, chewing on his lip thoughtfully. “Cody?”
“Yeah?”
“I got a weird question.”
“Shoot.”
His fingers tap Cody’s thigh a few more times, then start slowly stroking with his knuckles. Cody, embarrassingly, immediately feels his blood rush down, and he really hopes for a second that Pete hasn’t noticed anything.
“We’ve hooked up,” Pete says casually, glancing at Cody. His eyes are darker than Cody has ever seen them, and his mustache is sort of untamed, and—well, he looks good, so that’s nice.
“We have,” Cody confirms. His voice cracks; he clears his throat and tries again. “Couple times. Why?”
“You opposed to doing it again?”
“Right now?”
“Maybe.”
Cody’s fingers move faster than his brain does; he saves the game and clicks out of it without ever looking away from Pete. “That would be cool with me, if you wanted.”
Pete grins. His hand grabs the inside of Cody’s thigh hard, and Cody goes almost cross eyed with the force of it.
“Pretty,” Pete muses. He’s not blinking. “Come here. I like you on your knees.”
“Okay,” Cody breathes, shucking his jacket as he crawls to the floor immediately.
It’s kind of dumb. He’s been like this about Pete since they met—Pete’s just so fucking cool, in a way Cody will never be, and he always regrets not waiting and selling his soul to Pete instead. This, he thinks, is the closest he will ever come to it—pressing his face into Pete’s crotch and breathing hard, letting Pete yank him back by his hair, opening his mouth and showing off his tongue piercing to let Pete play with it a little—it’s almost like he can pretend he’s still useful this way. That Pete didn’t abandon him, that he’s still part of everything—
He’s not sad. He can have Pete in moments like this, because it’s only been two days and Pete’s already come back.
(He’s about to come another way too if Cody has anything to say about it.)
He knows the fastest way to get Pete’s dumbass jeans off and his dick exposed, which is yanking them down to Pete’s ankles and just slotting his head in the space between his legs. Pete throws his head back almost immediately as Cody starts licking the underside, already starting to drool—look, he’s done this before, and he knows what Pete likes, and that’s slick, wet, and hot. He buries his face in as far as he can, using his tongue and suctioning his cheeks as much as possible. Pete lets out an obscene noise, grabbing a tighter fistful of Cody’s hair—
And, okay. He’s not 100% until he feels Pete start pushing him back a little, but it felt…early. Cody goes with only a little resistance, making sure he doesn’t let Pete slide out of the chair. Above him, Pete is a fucking sight—chest heaving, eyes fluttering, cheeks flushed—his breath keeps catching too, and suddenly Cody is a little less sure about all of this.
“Pete?” he whispers. Pete’s eyes fly open to stare at Cody, and they’re still dark—
“Fuck,” Pete says plainly, then, “I got a few more in me if you don’t mind.”
Right. Okay. Cody grins, pressing a kiss to the inside of Pete’s thigh first. “I missed you too,” he teases, making Pete laugh breathlessly.
“I missed the hell out of you,” Pete assures him. “Wasn’t just because of this, I swear.”
“Coulda been. Would have been fine.” Cody keeps kissing closer and closer until Pete yanks him back into place.
Pete doesn’t stop talking, though, and he seems much less wound up this time. Still into it—god, he’s still into it, rolling his hips into Cody’s mouth—but he’s talking the entire time.
“I didn’t even wanna leave, they kind of—ambushed me with it, a little? Kingston just got fucking—worried about—fuck, yeah, just like that, Cody, shit—um—Nod said something about me being, uh, unpredictable—magic, and stuff—fuck, fuck, fuck, Cody, Cody—”
(And if Cody has to press a heel to the front of his own pants at hearing Pete say his name like that, well, all the better. He’s not gonna finish until Pete tells him to anyway and they both know it.)
“—said—said I might, uh, be more prone to magic stuff, um, and—god, Cody—do that again—” His hips snap up at whatever Cody just did. He doesn’t remember what it was, but he does try to do it again—his tongue, maybe? Either way, whatever he does that time makes Pete’s thighs clamp down around Cody’s face hard, and if he weren’t already attuned to every sensation then the literal electric shock that buzzes through Cody from Pete’s skin contact would do it.
It’s not like he can jerk away—in fact, he kind of likes it—but he’s also got his tongue pressed flat to the underside of Pete’s dick and that…probably wasn’t comfortable, judging by the way Pete yanks him back with a yelp. Cody detaches with a wet pop and stares up, his vision fuzzy as whatever it was vanishes from his skin. Pete slowly comes back into focus.
He looks horrified.
“Cody?” Pete says, his voice cracking. “Oh my god, are you—”
“I’m fine,” Cody says, but the words sound sort of distant to his own ears. “Ah…”
Pete has to fight to get Cody out from between his legs but as soon as he does he pulls Cody’s head into his lap, inspecting his face carefully. Cody just goes where led. It’s nice to be able to let Pete cradle him like this. It doesn’t happen that much. He kind of wishes it would happen more. Pete is very handsome.
“Cody?” Pete strokes his cheek gently. “Baby, are you with me?”
Baby. That’s nice. Cody blinks slowly as the ringing in his ears starts to fade. “Um…uh, yeah. Yes. Yeah, I’m good.” Pete brushes some of his hair back slowly. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Pete whispers. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
Hurt. Cody thinks through that for a second—hurt—and realizes something.
“I shocked you,” he mumbles. “My tongue piercing. I’m sorry.”
“Cody, I think I just electrocuted you.”
“And my piercing got you.”
“That is so not the conversation we’re having.”
“But—”
“Cody,” Pete says, more insistent this time, and Cody…well, he likes to listen to Pete, so he shuts his mouth and stares up with slightly glazed eyes. Pete still looks unhappy. Is that Cody’s fault? “Cody, baby, hey, listen. Listen. I’m sorry. Are you hurt? Not—don’t worry about me. Are you hurt?”
Cody hums, trying to take stock. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t really know. Every part of him just feels…alive.
“I dunno,” he says simply.
“Great,” Pete whispers, shutting his eyes. “Um, alright, could you—cast lay on hands on yourself for me?”
“You need healing?” Cody says, shaking into focus. “I hurt you that bad?”
“You didn’t—Cody, I hurt you. And I didn’t mean to, but—”
“I like when you hurt me,” Cody replies easily. “Remember that time you scratched my back so hard I bled on the sheets?”
Pete’s head jerks back a little in surprise. “I did?”
“I loved it,” Cody continues. “And that time you left a bunch of bruises on my wrists and my thighs and put a bunch of hickeys on me—”
“Okay—okay, Cody, I see what you mean, but this is—”
“—and the time you kept me down on your strap so long I forgot how to breathe?”
Pete flushes at that one. “It was, uh, hot as fuck,” he agrees, then shakes his head. “Cody, I can’t—you know what, I can give you a repeat of those, if you want.”
Cody pushes to his knees immediately. “Really?”
“On one condition,” Pete says, carding his fingers through Cody’s hair softly. “Okay?”
“I’m listening.”
“Lay on hands on yourself first. We’ll start from the baseline, so I know I didn’t go too far, okay?”
Cody deflates a little. He thinks he might like this strange, floating sensation that’s left over—but Pete is asking, and Pete is the Vox Phantasma, and Pete is better than Cody at everything, including being smart, so he nods and presses his hand against his own heart to heal himself.
Clarity comes back to him with alarming speed, and honestly, he finds the whole thing much hotter with hindsight.
He looks up slowly at Pete, his hand still pressed like he’s taking a pledge, and he watches the way Pete’s face shifts into something determined.
“Okay,” he says, much more decisively now. He’s no longer asking. “Get your clothes off, get on the bed, and get the lube, pretty boy.”
Who is Cody to say no to that?
So. It’s kind of like Pete never left at all, because he doesn’t go back to Sofia’s overnight again. He hangs around the way he always does, lets Cody walk him to work, spends the night in Cody’s bed more often than not; it’s good. It’s easy.
Mostly.
He’s still got a short temper. The acne isn’t gone the way Pete wants. He’s started not being able to walk on the ground because he’s levitating everywhere. And beyond all of that, he cannot keep his hands to himself. It started out fairly innocent—the night of the electrocution, then a week or two later Cody had woken up to the sound of Pete muffling noises into his fist and offered to help out.
Then Pete realized Cody was usually down for anything. That was the beginning of the end.
Cody doesn’t think he’s had this many orgasms in his entire life. Even during his own puberty he managed some self control; but Pete’s running on overdrive, scary and intense and jacked up on weird swirling magic and his testosterone shots, and if Cody only gets away with two orgasms of his own a day he’s lucky now. Not that he’s complaining—there’s no better place for him than on his knees sat between Pete’s legs, or underneath him and watching Pete sweat beautifully as he punches every other thought out of Cody’s mind, or face buried into a pillow as Pete uses his fingers to find the deepest parts of Cody and draw them all the way out until he’s pliant and agreeable to just about anything.
He feels a bit like a toy, but Pete always ends it with some of the best aftercare Cody’s ever had, so. The Vox Phantasma giveth and the Vox Phantasma taketh. And Cody reaps the benefits.
There are…a few drawbacks. Not that Cody is complaining, of course—it’s just that Pete seems to forget they need to be concerned about anyone else.
And they do.
They share their apartment. And as much as Cody does love being bent over the sink in the bathroom, going cross-eyed as Pete finds a way to slide a fourth finger inside of him—
“Cody, man, come on! How long does it take you to do your hair?”
He does his best not to let a groan escape as Pete crooks his fingers. He doesn’t know if he’s successful. “Um—sorry, I—a few more minutes—”
“You said that five minutes ago!”
“I’m sorry, Lars, I mean it—”
Pete doesn’t seem to like that, because Cody’s knees buckle as Pete presses into his side and grabs Cody by his hair.
“Don’t say anyone else’s name,” Pete mumbles, petulant, and Cody nods as much as he can.
“Sorry—sorry—”
“Whatever, asshole,” Lars says on the other side, and his footsteps retreat. It should be respite. Instead, Pete pulls Cody in for a kiss, and…well.
And Cody shares his room, too, but Pete doesn’t seem to care about that, given how often he’ll be gaming and end up either with a hand that is not his own down his pants or with Pete in his lap at the desk.
Josh has to ask about it. Cody knows it’s kind of his job. It doesn’t make the conversation any less embarrassing.
“—and I’m not saying you can’t,” Josh says, patiently, while Cody stares at the contents of their fridge as if that will speed time up. “It’s just…you know this is awkward for me too. I don’t want your sex life to be a hot topic. Um, no pun intended.”
“Okay,” Cody says for the fifth time.
“So if you could, y’know, talk to Pete…”
“Okay.”
“…not instilling me with a lot of confidence here, man.”
Cody runs a hand down his face. “…I can try to talk to him,” he allows. “As much as he’ll let me.”
“I just don’t want this to turn into a thing. And if it makes you feel better, I had to do the same thing with Lars and Brita.”
“I know.”
“So, um, just…”
“I can try to talk to him,” Cody repeats tiredly.
What he means is, the next time Pete’s hands start wandering, Cody (sort of loudly) says, “I swear to Lucifer I am not letting you touch me in the apartment again.”
Pete stops, stares, and leans into Cody’s view when Cody doesn’t look at him.
“Cody, what?”
“Josh had to talk to me,” Cody says, staring at the screen as if that will make it easier. “We can’t. And I just made an oath—”
“But you,” Pete says, slinging his leg until he’s straddling Cody’s thigh, “are an oathbreaker, as I recall, pretty boy.”
Cody tightens his jaw, leaning to look around Pete at the screen. “Pete, I’m serious. You have places to go. I don’t.”
Pete goes still. “What does that mean?”
“Sofia would take you in. If I get kicked out, I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“You could come with me to Sofie’s.”
“She doesn’t like me that much.”
“If I ask—”
“Pete,” Cody says as sharply as he can manage. “The answer is no. Not in the apartment.”
Pete goes quiet, then slams the door when he leaves, and Cody doesn’t see head or tail of him for two full days. He doesn’t respond to texts. He won’t pick up calls. Cody ends up having to call Esther, which makes him feel even worse, because Esther really doesn’t like him.
“…have you tried, like, going to his room, or…?”
“Yes, Esther, believe it or not, I have tried that. We live in the same apartment, after all.”
“…and he didn’t answer…?”
“No—oh, forget it,” he grumbles, already starting to hang up, but Esther says something he doesn’t hear so he pulls the phone back up to his ear. “What?”
“Sorry, Cody,” she says. “I’m not—Ricky and Kingston just told me that not having you around as much would mean Pete could cool down, but I feel bad.”
“It’s fine,” he says stiffly.
“He’s at Grammercy right now.”
Cody perks up. “He is?”
So. His moped is skirting through the streets in a matter of minutes, and when he pulls up outside of the Society building, he’s surprised to see Ricky there. Ricky seems just as surprised to see him.
“You’re here?” Ricky says, blinking. “That was fast.”
“I—what?” Cody stops, straightening, just as his phone goes off—a text from Esther, announcing a Dream Team meeting in a few minutes. “Oh—right. Just, um, had a feeling.”
“Weird,” Ricky says, and he turns to head inside without another word. Cody is right behind him, and Esther is in the middle of a conversation with JJ at the conference desk when they get in. She waves at both of them—at Cody especially—and starts chatting to Ricky, cutting her eyes to the far door every so often. Cody’s not invited to the conversation yet; the meeting, of course, won’t start until everyone is there, and right now it’s only them—
The door finally opens, and there’s Pete, looking a little worse for wear. Cody’s heart rate spikes, and Pete’s cheeks go pink, and they both kind of stare at each other across the room.
“Cody?”
Cody holds his phone up silently. “Um. The meeting.”
Pete deflates a little, but he still comes sort of bounding over like a magnet—or a yo-yo—something. And Cody falls right in with him, and they’re barely a foot apart, and Cody has been practicing what to say for days but now faced with it—
“I’m glad you’re here,” Pete says quietly.
Cody decides to take a small, calculated risk. “Had to get here fast. Cause I knew I’d see you.”
And he’s right, because Pete lights up again, his eyes sparkling, and he levitates just the tiniest amount—Cody offers his arm for stability, which Pete takes with a bitten-back smile.
“Thanks,” Pete says honestly, his voice dropping. “Um—“
Another door opens, louder this time, and they both snap their heads to look as Kingston and Sofia come waltzing in.
(Out of the corner of his eye, Cody sees Esther frown at her phone, then shake her head.)
“Let’s get it started,” Sofia says brightly. “What’s going on, Esther?”
“You guys are here so fast,” Esther says. “How is—”
“Oh, I texted her,” Pete says immediately. “I know how the service is in Staten Island, but I usually can get through.”
And Esther gives Pete a tight smile, and that’s all the confirmation Cody needs. He makes a mental note to thank her later for getting him and Pete in the same room, and maybe to make Pete cry from on his knees until he understands.
The meeting starts. It’s not urgent, it’s kind of just—checking in—but Pete’s next to Cody, and he’s tapping his fingers against his cheek in a little pattern with his hip popped, and Cody feels like this is going to be incredibly successful.
And then Cody feels something touch him from the inside.
It’s hard to explain. It’s not actually there is the problem, but he can feel the sensation—a single finger, rubbing his hole. It’s kind of warm. Comforting. Familiar, somehow. And it’s a miracle Cody doesn’t squeak or make a noise, but he doesn’t, he keeps quiet as the sensation continues. Maybe it’ll go away soon. Maybe he’s just thinking too hard about Pete.
The invisible, not-there finger slides in, and it’s strange to feel stretched when he’s not actually being touched. Cody’s eyes flutter while nobody is looking at him. He has to school his face the second someone looks in his direction, though, and he tries to hit the balance—he’s enjoying it, to be sure, it’s just strange—
And then a second finger, and a third, and Cody’s so focused on not moaning outright in front of the group that he forgets to even wonder why this is happening to him.
He manages to keep on top of the conversation to a degree as well, which is more of a surprise than he thinks it should be.
Esther turns to Pete at one point— “What say you, Vox Phantasma?”
Cody turns to look at Pete, because he’s been looking at everyone who speaks, and he watches as Pete’s fingers curl in the air in the same intentional direction that he feels inside his body, reaching something that Pete’s fingers usually can’t quite touch. Cody forces himself to stop breathing so he doesn’t outright whimper.
Of course it’s Pete. Cody’s kind of just his plaything anyway.
(He’s starting to think he doesn’t mind.)
After that, it’s a little harder to focus, because he can watch Pete’s fingers out of the corner of his eye and it’s almost like he’s being—well, no, not almost. He is being fucked in front of all of his co-workers, who already do not like him, at his own expense, because Pete can’t help himself, apparently. He just wishes Pete had warned him, at least, because—
“Cody?”
Cody’s head snaps up. He knows he’s flushed, because everyone looks at him a little strangely, and he clears his throat.
“Yeah. Yes.”
“The, uh, patrols?” Kingston says.
Cody resists a full body shudder as Pete’s fingers curl again, and before he can stop himself—
“Gladly give you an update,” Cody manages, strangled, “when Pete gets his mage hand out of my ass.”
The whole room goes still, and the sensation fades as quickly as it started. Next to him, Pete squeaks in embarrassment—because he’s the embarrassed one—
“Sorry,” he whispers. Cody relaxes slowly, rolling his shoulders a few times.
“Some warning would be great next time,” Cody says, much more calm, then clears his throat again. “Uh, the patrols. Haven’t seen much on the run, but there’s an area where there’s been a significant decline in magical activity. And I know we were looking for an increase, but it’s like, a dead zone, almost? I can’t get a read off anything there, which is making me concerned that either the Umbral Arcana is leaking there specifically, or something’s going on. It’s by, like, a warehouse set, sort of. I haven’t tried going closer. Not without backup, and I know we’ve all been busy.”
Esther nods, looking…seemingly impressed, actually. “Good catch. How about this, you check out and make sure it’s still a dead zone tonight, and tomorrow morning you and I can go check it out in the light of day.”
“Es,” Ricky says quietly.
“We’ll bring someone else too,” Esther assures him. “But even if it’s just me and Cody I doubt it’ll be trouble. Cody can stand on his own.”
Cody straightens a bit, biting back a smile, and he ignores the way both Sofia and Kingston glance sideways at him.
“Just…keep me updated,” Ricky mumbles eventually, and they all sort of move on.
By the time they’re wrapping up, Cody has watched Pete try to step away six different times, only for him to come back exactly where he was. The group all just kind of…turns away, but Sofia is very clearly looking at Pete expectantly—
Cody turns, and Pete is staring at him like he’s a dog afraid of being hit. Cody rolls his shoulders once.
“I missed you too?” he says slowly. Pete relaxes a bit.
“I’m so sorry,” Pete says immediately. “Jesus Christ, Cody, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know I was—I was just thinking about you, and—”
“In the middle of a meeting?”
“That’s how I usually pass the time, yeah.”
Cody ducks his head, debating. He ought to tell Pete off. But…well, it’s not really his fault, is it? So Cody looks around, raises an eyebrow at Esther, and she nods her head in the direction of the bathroom down the hallway.
Cool.
Cody decides he’d rather be a dick, honestly, so he just sweeps Pete off the floor into a bridal carry without much other fanfare. Pete yelps, clinging onto him.
“What are you—Cody—?”
“If you’re gonna start something,” Cody says casually. “You might as well finish it.”
He nearly runs into the doorframe because Pete pulls him so hard into a kiss. Then it’s fumbling through the door to the bathroom—fuck locking it, everyone knows what they’re doing already—and as promised (to himself) Cody slinks right to his knees and starts pulling at Pete’s pants.
“Fuck—hold on—Cody, I don’t have anything—”
“I don’t care,” Cody insists. “I’m going down on you.”
Pete moans at that, and louder when Cody immediately slides his fingers the second he has access to find his dick. Pete is…dripping, which honestly feels unusual, but Cody’s chalking it up to the fact that he’s probably only had his own fingers for the past few days, seeing as most of his toys are still in his room waiting to be used on Cody again. He tries to lean forward, but Pete pushes him back by the forehead.
“Cody,” he whispers. “No, please, this—”
Cody doesn’t hear no from Pete often, if at all. It sort of stings—after all of that, and he’s not even allowed—? But the feeling in his chest is very quickly remedied by the fact that Pete pulls him up, spins them, and takes Cody’s place on the floor with his face in Cody’s crotch.
“Been thinking about it for days,” Pete whispers, and Cody nearly busts right there.
Pete doesn’t go down on him much. He’s done it a few times, sure, but it’s never been to completion, because he likes drawing Cody’s orgasm out on something vibrating and ribbed. This time…feels different. He sinks his fingers into Pete’s hair as Pete starts to suck on the head of his cock, intentional and hot, using his tongue against the slit—that earns him a whimper and weak knees, and it only gets more intense from there. It’s like Pete has been starving for it. Maybe he has. Maybe this is Cody’s reward. Maybe he was right and he should have sold his soul to Pete in the end instead of Lucifer, because hell on wheels, he can’t imagine any spell he could cast that would make him feel more alive than Pete being the one to worship him instead of the other way around for once.
And Pete’s not making it easy to hold back. He’s being sloppy, letting himself get gagged on it, making little moans of his own while he tries to swallow all of Cody down his throat. That’s not easy. Pete’s said before that Cody’s probably the biggest he’s been with, and Cody very politely had pointed out that Pete’s bigger—not by biology, but by the sheer fact that most of his straps are almost the length of his forearm, if not longer.
That doesn’t count, according to Pete. Cody has considered on more than one occasion getting a Clone-A-Willy so Pete can fuck him with it. It might be selfish. He’s not sure he cares.
He tries as hard as he can to hold back, but it sneaks up on him a bit, so Cody tugs at Pete’s hair. “—close, close, fuck, stop—”
“Nope,” Pete grins. His voice already sounds wrecked. “No, come on, let me taste it, pretty boy.”
Cody gets swallowed halfway down Pete’s throat and ends up almost whiting out from how good it feels. Once he’s starting to come back, he feels—something. Under his skin, a bit. And he smells a little bit of smoke, he thinks.
Pete pulls back, trying to keep Cody’s dick from slapping into the zipper, and looks up hopefully. “Did it work?”
“Huh?” Cody says, dazed.
“The, uh, lighting grasp. Did it work? You liked it last time.”
Oh. Pete had electrocuted him during his orgasm. Cody’s dick jumps, and he whines even louder than before, pulling at Pete’s hair lightly.
“Cody?”
Cody makes a strangled noise, and Pete grins wide.
“Good boy,” he whispers.
Cody doesn’t remember getting them home, but he knows his moped goes faster than it ever has, to the point that he’s afraid the engine is going to start smoking. He ignores it as best as he can, though, and ends up—Pete doesn’t have any more qualms. He waves hello to Josh, who gives Cody a very concerned look, and then he’s being tugged upstairs behind Pete’s closed door to get the dicking of a lifetime. He remembers most of it. He knows he watches Pete splay his hand right across the center of Cody’s chest as he starts to push in, and when he finally bottoms out his fingers spark a little along the tattoo that Pete had given him two days after meeting him with this same magic, and Cody thinks maybe Pete is an actual god, at this point. He doesn’t know. He might as well be.
Cody would believe in him for the rest of his life.