Chapter 1
Reese glared up at the metal bar and its lack of handholds, sweat creeping down his spine.
The press of bodies around him made the air feel thick, and the bus would lurch into motion any time now.
He glanced around him, but there weren't many places to go in the crowded vehicle.
Shaw, of course, had no trouble reaching the metal bar even without the help of a handhold.
"You're gonna fall over, dumbass.
Hold onto something."
Easy for a giant to say.
Reese didn't want to be rude to the people seated by grabbing the seats behind their heads, so he was rude in his favorite way; he grabbed onto Shaw.
"Hey!"
"You said to grab onto something," Reese said, obscurely pleased with himself.
"You're something."
"I'm some
one
," Shaw grumbled, but to Reese's great surprise he didn't attempt to slap away the hand fisted on the right side of his T-shirt, even though Reese knew his palm was sweaty.
The bus lurched into motion, and Reese let himself pull at Shaw enough to steady himself, laughing a little at the scowl apparent on Shaw's face.
He thought this bus ride would be pretty fun, after all, as he pulled at Shaw's shirt and Shaw—for some unknown reason—tolerated it.
The frequent stops and starts on their way to the sports shop meant it happened often, and when they finally got to their stop all Shaw did in retribution was flick his forehead; he didn't even berate Reese for being short.
"Hey!" Reese said in response to the flick, pretending at innocence he didn't feel; he'd been very pleased with himself for pulling at Shaw's shirt as much as possible.
"You could have made me let go if it was so bad."
"And let you fall over and hurt yourself?
Who'd substitute for you in matches?"
Reese snorted, tripping a little and nearly skinning his knees on the warm pavement; he righted himself before Shaw could grab him and yell at him.
When he glanced at Shaw to see if he'd noticed, he saw the collar of Shaw's shirt was pulled to the side because of the way he'd tugged at it during the journey.
Reese grinned to himself, and thought that perhaps a lack of handlebars on buses wasn't the worst thing in the world.
* * *
The next holding-on incident was in Oakenfort on a team excursion. The trains in Oakenfort were pretty hard to figure out, but Scott had a route mapped on his phone and he could be trusted to tell them when to be at what platform.
Unfortunately, the route planner didn't take small delays like Velez getting into a fight with an actual city boy into account, and the whole team found themselves running for the train on the way back from seeing the Heliosian team play, Shaw and Reese in the lead. Reese didn't slow down when he saw the doors of the train ahead of them begin to close, even though he would have if he'd thought about it—but all his awareness had narrowed down to Shaw running next to him, and the fact that he needed to get on that train before him.
They jumped onto the train side-by side, puffing, the doors closing behind them.
Sudden anxiety curdled in Reese's stomach.
"Um—"
They turned as a pair, and saw the team through the train windows.
Velez was shouting something and Wills was laughing; Yates looked frantic as she ran to catch up.
Reese groaned.
"Shit," Shaw said from next to him—and then the train slunk into motion and pushed Reese into him.
Shaw grunted.
"I didn't do it on purpose!" Reese said, annoyed.
Shaw had already grabbed onto one of the bars.
"It's fine."
Oh
.
Well that wasn't nearly as defensive as Reese had expected.
He remembered the time last summer when they'd taken the bus together, when Shaw had let him hang onto him on the way there
and
the way back.
It was surprising; normally Shaw didn't let him get away with anything, whether it was a bad receive or forgetting to stretch properly or digging into his pork bun before the others had a chance to get theirs.
Reese didn't bother mentioning the fact that falling over on a bus or train would hardly be worse than the spills he took in volleyball.
He did right himself, though, and hang onto one of the up-and-down poles.
There was enough space this time.
"Do you remember what station we have to get out at?" he asked.
"I think so," Shaw said, his eyebrows drawn together.
That was a relief, because Reese didn't.
He decided not to mention that.
They stood in silence for a while—both regretting their actions—and arrived at the next stop not much later.
People got on.
A
lot
of people got on.
Reese found himself in a press of bodies, moved along like a hapless swimmer caught in the riptide.
He got swept away from the door and into the main corridor, and then an iron fist settled around his bicep, and Shaw drew Reese in against him.
Reese let out a shuddering breath against Shaw's familiar-smelling chest.
The trains were never this full in Idlewild; if he'd been traveling alone there would have been no telling where he'd end up.
For once he was just glad of Shaw's height instead of being jealous.