Midday Brawl

Summary: Sequel to Midnight Run. Alex and Tom have to deal with the consequences, or rather, lack thereof, of their midnight kiss in the park. There's no turning back, now.

Warnings – frequent use of homophobic slurs, and a bit of religious bashing.

Thanks to my awesome beta, Jusmine! (Hint - give her cookies, she makes sure these things are actually somewhat readable).

Meta – do not take it personally if I bash your religion. I mock all religions, and I get along with them all, too. (You'd be surprised how many people remain absolutely confused how I'm practically best friends with a missionary and a Muslim despite my blatant anti-religion views).

Dedications: This fic is dedicated to Jusmine, who secretly defies homophobes every day and manages to keep her sanity, despite her own bisexuality. It's dedicated to my good friend Luke from middle school, who was gay, had a boyfriend, and proud of it. This is dedicated to my boyfriend of 8th grade, Austin, who was bisexual, and defied every single stereotype there was about homosexuality. And, as pretentious as this is, I'm also dedicating this to myself and my actions, in defying homophobia every day, taking crap from it and throwing it right fucking back.

For the most part, very little changed since he and Tom crossed the line from 'just friends' into 'something more.' He and Tom still goofed off, played around in the park, joked around school, wandered about random places noted for teenage congregation.

They still played around with martial arts and footballs, high range explosives that no teen should know about and small fireworks that every teen should know about. Tom, aspiring to be a film director one day, still captured his life, and occasionally Alex's, on camera, and messed around with it for his own entertainment.

It was really almost unnoticeable. Almost.

Because pervading it all, there was a new sense of intimacy that wasn't there, before. Their goofing off, when they were alone, resulted in them being physically much closer than before. The odd kiss here, close embrace there. Moments in the house, when Tom escaped his home into Alex's, with the two relaxing into each other's presence.

And sometimes, nowadays, he and Tom would be working for their A-Levels, together, and they would relax, and snog, and suddenly they would be on top of each other, lips and hips sealed together with their hands exploring each others' bodies through their clothes, school books forgotten, and it would be so wonderful, and then they'd jump apart blushing when they heard a cough from the doorway, Jack smirking and raising an eyebrow and asking, sarcastically, how their revising was going.

Times when they would sneak up to Alex's bedroom, some porn, condoms, and lube in hand, trying out everything they could, and just a little more.

Laying together, naked, sticky, sore and sated, in Alex's bed, pressed flush together, was something new, smiling dopily at each other, commenting on it offhand, comparing it to their judicious experiments with girls.

And the nights…

Tom, when he slept over, calming Alex down from a particularly bad nightmare that had Alex waking up almost screaming, was nothing new. It was just something that became part of their friendship when Alex started working for MI6.

However, Tom calming Alex down from even his most silent nightmares was new, as now, laying beside Alex in his bed, he could feel Alex's distress, no matter how silent he was.

These were small changes, really. Alex and Tom may not have really grown up together or anything like that. But they've known each other for a few years, now, anyway, and pretty damn well. All these things were just little additions to what was already there.

One thing, however, remained a bit of a wall in their new relationship – the fact that nobody else really knew about it. Alex kept all his relationships away from MI6, so for him, it was nothing new that only Jack knew, but he could see that Tom, unaccustomed to this, was never quite sure what to do.

Friday night had changed that.

In the heat of the moment, Tom had kissed Alex in front of their schoolmates, and with the way technology worked these days, within a few hours, the grainy picture of it was all over Facebook and MySpace and all the other places which thrived on social fodder like this.

Britain was a fairly liberal place, in an abstract sense. People just took things as they were and moved on.

It was certainly more liberal than America, if some of Jack's horror stories were anything to go by, especially the ones taking place in that 'Bible Belt' area, where apparently, the Bible still played a larger part in their governments than it was supposed to. Which Alex found funny, because America was ruled by the Bible when it was a secular country (supposedly, according to Jack), while England was a constitutional monarchy and it seemed that the Bible had become almost secondary, really.

But, that didn't change the occasional idiot being around to make Tom nervous, and make Alex fear for Tom.

Like Tom's parents, who both had a fairly heavy Catholic background, and who Alex was sure were fairly homophobic, if the near-terror in Tom's eyes at the mere mention of telling his parents he was bisexual, let alone dating Alex, was anything to go by.

And those bullies, the very ones Alex had saved Tom from that started their friendship, that went largely unchallenged because of their size, both in number and bulk.

Well, they left Alex alone, for the most part, apart from the occasional taunting – while Alex's supposed sickness was a widely known fact, his extensive martial arts background was also a well known fact, too.

Somehow, now that Tom had 'come out,' he knew that it would change.

It was Monday, now. He and Tom were riding to school, racing their bikes by the block, stopping by the food cart and splitting a pastry, just like they'd been doing for years.

Alex could see the tension in Tom's limbs, though.

And he could feel it mirrored in his own.

They weren't exactly mobbed or anything when they got into the school, locked up their bikes, and headed over to their usually spot by the gate to wait before class started.

And for the most part, people didn't really care too much. Most people were just fussing over the fact Alex and Tom were in a relationship at all, paying very little attention to the fact they were both boys. Which was a relief, really. There was the occasional sly joke, but all of this was typical.

Lunch break was much the same, really. Alex and Tom have been eating together for years. Most people actually seemed to almost forget that they were now 'an item', though someone would frequently bring it up, anyway.

It was right after school that it became problematic.

Marco, Ian (oh, how Alex hated that the bastard shared his uncle's name), and Jackson, all led by Noah, pretty much cornered Tom when they finally got the boy by himself – which, with Alex's slightly overprotective tendencies, was rather a rare moment.

Alex rounded a corner when he heard Tom's voice, and his blood nearly froze when he saw two of the brutes, Marco and Ian, lunging at Tom, while Jackson rooted them on and Noah taunted Tom.

"That's what you get for taking it up the arse, faggot," Noah said with a laugh.

Alex, almost irrationally, felt a surge of pride as he saw Tom fight back against the first to blokes, managing to stay standing. But he was barely a match for one bloke, so two managed to still do some considerable damage. And it only got worse when Jackson joined the scuffle, and Noah after him, yelling, "Get the bloody poof!"

Alex's instincts were torn between wanting to go right in and help Tom, and leaving Tom to get himself out of this with his dignity completely intact. He knew the bastards wouldn't do too much damage – they weren't exactly serious – but it would still hurt like hell. But he also know Tom's pride was on the line, too.

"How does it feel," Noah said with a smirk, when Tom was backed into a corner, in a fighting stance. "Knowing God is going to make sure your fairy arse is ripped to shreds after you die?"

Tom's jaw clenched, but, while he remained calm, his eyes grew wide when Ian was suddenly holding a knife, and fingering the cross around his neck as he mimed slicing a cross in midair.

"Maybe you need a reminder," he said with a smirk. "And it'll be over fast – long before your fucking knight in shining armor can come in here to save his damsel in distress."

Wrong word choice.

The teen spy saw red, and at that point, he wasn't Alex as he neared the group – he was Agent Rider, one of MI6's top agent for almost two years, and feared threat to several of the most powerful criminal organizations in the world.

From behind, Alex grabbed Ian's wrist – the one with a knife – and twisted it, whirling the boy around and nearly dislocating his arm in the process.

Ian swung an arm around, but he was no match for Alex, well trained, just recovered from his last mission, and blood boiling in rage, as he pinned the boy against the wall, the hand holding the knife covered by Alex's, other hand pinned by pure strength on Alex's part, as he raised a knee straight into Ian's crotch, making him yelp and his face contort in pain, and also keeping him effectively stuck in Alex's grasp.

"Well, look what we have, here," Noah said, casual voice, though Alex could hear the panicking undertones to his pitch. "Your knight in shining armor. Tell me, Alex – who takes it up the arse more, you or-"

At that point, Tom, who'd been largely ignored by all of them once Alex showed up, threw himself at Noah, using an SAS move Alex taught him to kick the boy's feet from out underneath him and slam the heel of his palm into the bloke's face – forehead, though, as Tom didn't really want to do too much damage, either – and kicking the felled boy in the ribs, before turning sharply on his heel, fighting stance against, towards the other two blokes, who nervously looked between Tom and Alex.

Smirking, Alex bent Ian's hand against the boy's will. Ian fought back, but ultimately lost, to which end Alex pressed the knife against his neck.

"Get out of here," Alex said, voice low and dangerous, his tone black enough that Marco and Jackson helped Noah up and all three of them scrambled away, Ian's eyes wide in terror as Alex pressed the edge of the sharpened blade against his carotid artery, feeling the boy's racing pulse through the well molded metal and Ian's own hand beneath his.

"Now," Alex said, in a well practiced voice, nonchalant but dangerous all the same. He learnt from the best, really – the very people who he usually fought against on his missions for MI6. "Regardless of which of us happens to 'take it up the arse,' as you so eloquently put it, Tom and I are still getting fuck more action than you are, and somehow, I can't help but wonder if you're just jealous."

Ian's eyes clouded over in rage, again, as he said, "Why the fuck would I be jealous of some bent fairies like the likes of you two?"

Alex smirked, and he knew that something in his eyes must've shifted, because now Ian's eyes were pure fear, yet again. "Because you want what we've got, whatever the hell it is. Because you're so busy hiding what you want that you attack us for it. Because you know, deep down, you're-"

"I'm nothing like you faggots!" Ian yelled, enraged. But his eyes widened in pain and he yelped sharply as the blade dug into his skin, scratching him, some blood dripping out.

Alex knew all about intimidation tactics – he'd been on the giving and receiving end often enough to be an expert on how it worked – so he knew this was the perfect moment, and dragging the blade through to coat the edge in blood and make homophobic bastard before him hiss in pain, Alex stepped back enough to whirl Ian forcibly again, this time his face smashed into the brick wall as he captured both the boy's wrists in one hand, pushing up so he was pinned by his own shoulders, leaving one of Alex's hand free to clutch the knife tightly.

Face impassive, he brought the knife-tip up to the boy's lips, Tom looking on nervously and fearfully, at both of them, but also in awe, as Alex made Ian taste his own blood.

With the fucker's adrenalin and heartbeat this high, Alex knew how much this could make the terror increase almost exponentially.

"Are you so sure about that?" Alex asked, changing the angle of the blade so that it was pressed against the boy's cheek, though not actually cutting it.

Ian actually whimpered.

Smirking and only barely keeping himself from rolling his eyes, Alex released Ian and lightly kicked his ankles as he took several steps back to make him fall, handing the knife to Tom as Ian scrambled up, looking at Alex, terrified.

Alex's eyes narrowed as he saw the necklace around Ian's neck – the cross, made of three nails twisting around each other to form the crucifix. The three nails used in Jesus's own crucifixion.

"You don't deserve that," Alex scowled. "Fucking hypocrites – saying God loves all his children, except when those children threaten your own damn insecurities."

Stepping forward – and trying not to enjoy the panic in Ian's eyes when he couldn't step back…really, he tried – Alex grabbed the necklace and ripped it right off his neck, the boy wincing as the snap burned his neck when Alex dragged it off.

Making sure to invade Ian's personal space as much as he could without actually touching him, Alex shoved the broken necklace into Ian's pocket for him – he wasn't cruel enough to actually keep the thing – and said, "Don't put that back on 'til you become a fucking proper human being."

And with that, he shoved Ian away, making him fall again, but the boy scrambled up, still panicking, and ran away, far around the corner, while Alex turned to Tom in their secluded little niche between two walls.

"Are you all right?"

Tom nodded, clearly still slightly shaky from the incident, and staring at the knife in his hands.

"You didn't have to do that, Alex," Tom said.

Alex nodded, understanding Tom's fear, and loosened his posture as he stepped towards his boyfriend.

"Yes, I did," Alex said. "This way, they won't bug you, even when I'm not here. They'll know they have me to answer to."

Tom took a deep shuddering breath and nodded, before bending down to wipe the blade in the grass, and slipping it into his bag. "Thanks, mate."

Alex smiled, and wrapped his arm loosely around Tom's waist as they headed out into the main area of the school, not caring at the occasional stared they garnered as Tom returned the gesture around Alex's waist.

"You're welcome," Alex said, smiling up at Tom. It always creeped him out that no matter how tall they both got (or rather, how short they both relatively remained), his eyes always matched up with Tom's lips. Always, for the last four years straight.

Not that he was complaining about the lovely view.

Especially when Tom leaned in and kissed him, right then, both of them ignoring a few catcalls from the girls nearby as he parted and headed towards their bike.

"So," Alex said, swinging his leg and hopping on his own ride as Tom did the same, and they started wheeling out and away from the school. "What're we going to be doing, tonight?"

Tom smirked. "Well…terrifying as you were, right now, you have no idea how fucking hott that was, too."

Pretending to wander off in his own thoughts, Alex said, "I can think of a few ways to put that knife to…interesting use."


"Yea – you pick up a few kinks when you work for MI6 like I do."

Tom laughed. "Using that knife for…and wouldn't that be the ultimate irony?"

"Exactly," Alex said, using the next corner to race ahead and make Tom chase him.

Laughing, both boys raced back to the food cart, then home, already recovered from their midday brawl.

A/N:Yes, I had to name one of the bastards Ian. Why? Because all four of them are named after real homophobes who've attempted to make me miserable and failed spectacularly, but were rather annoying. Sadly, one of them is, in fact, named Ian. (Even worse: his last name is Rose. T_T)

This fic was based off the verbal equivalent that happened to me in real life. It wasn't nearly as violent – just me and the 'Neurotic Catholic', or 'Kathy the Catholic', as many people called her back then, yelling at each other – but I turned the verbal match into a physical equivalent for the sake of the story.