Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Just like he thought, Buffy’s waiting in line to get food in the cafeteria. He saw her the other day, when Justin had a chocolate craving and he offered to take muffins for the group. He may have stepped on that last muffin just to piss her off, actually.

Not that anyone needs to know.

Today's a first for TJ, who's starting to regret the stuff he put her through after their little surprise meeting. He knows it'll take a lot more than a please to talk Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes into tutoring him with this whole sworn-enemies deal going on. She's made that very clear in Mr. Coleman's class.

To be honest, TJ's not sure he’d even be here to risk it if he didn’t seriously need to pass math class. Seriously as in not just to stay on the team, or get rid of Mr. Coleman's face looking at him like… that. At some point between one tutor and the other, math’s obviously become more to TJ than a simple box to check so he can play basketball after school. He wouldn't say it's become personal, because he's not the type of student that takes school stuff personally, but yeah.

It is kind of personal.

Not that anyone needs to know that, either.

“Incoming,” Buffy tells some kid when TJ stops in front of her. I can hear you, he’s tempted to say, but that'd only add fuel to the fire. He doesn’t want to waste lunch time here.

“This is how it is, Buffy," he starts, with the best don’t-give-a-hoot voice he can fake. “You have to tutor me.”

Buffy raises her eyebrows.

“I’m team captain,” TJ reminds her, which is just another way to say I could kick you off the team first, if I wanted to.

“Sure, TJ." She smiles, but it’s so fake he’d prefer she didn’t. “Here’s your first lesson! X times Y equals… ain’t gonna happen.”

Oh, it’s so on.

“Well, if I’m not on the team… then you ain’t gonna win another game.”

Buffy snorts mockingly. “If you don’t pass me the ball, why should I help you pass the class?”

(TJ’s kind of impressed by how quickly she makes that up, but he knows better than to show it.)

He’s not impressed by where this is going, though. Maybe he was just expecting it’d take more bickering. The solution he came up with it’s not the brightest, so he was hoping he could argue his way around it — but whatever. This is probably the only thing Buffy wants to hear, anyway.

“Fine.”

As he lies, his eyes move to anything but her face. That’s when he realizes the kid next to them has been listening to the whole conversation, and it hits him how embarrassed he'll be once he finishes the sentence.

“...I’ll pass you the ball.”

Buffy and her friend share a surprised look, which somehow makes it worse. He’s not sure why, but it’s definitely not because he’s letting her fake-win. After all, it’s a fake win.

So he asks: “Do we have a deal?” (If not to make that awkward feeling go away.)

She hesitates. Of course.

And then: “No.”

Before TJ can protest, she slips an arm around her friend’s shoulder to bring him closer. Her face’s a little too smug for TJ’s liking, so he looks at the kid, who, by contrast, is the picture of anxiety.

“You get my friend Cyrus, here, a chocolate chocolate chip muffin,” she says, pointing at the bowl on the counter, and TJ turns around just when the next student in line takes the second-last muffin. “Then we have a deal.”

To be honest, TJ was expecting a lot worse. This condition is… kind of funny, actually.

“You can’t get your own muffin?” he asks Cyrus, amused, but it sounds like a stupid question as soon as he does. Judging by the kid’s expression, TJ wouldn’t be surprised if he was scared of his own shadow or something.

“I didn’t need this extra level of embarrassment,” Cyrus complains to Buffy, turning to face her. His voice sounds like it came straight out of a sitcom, and TJ instantly gets a nerdy-but-funny vibe from it.

“But… no,” he eventually admits, not even looking as embarrassed as he said. He’s not avoiding eye contact with TJ, just… making some kind of overly apologetic face.

TJ wonders what’s there to feel sorry about.

He turns to check if the last muffin’s still in the bowl, and it is. “Well, I can do it, but…” You clearly need a boost of confidence, he wants to say, but he’s not sure how Buffy could take it. If he’s trying to lay low, it’s probably safer to go for the bro card.

“Teach a man to fish?” he offers, then, raising his shoulders as an invitation, and Cyrus looks genuinely thankful for the suggestion. A little surprised, even. It’s not that big of a gesture, but it’s making TJ feel one step away from proud.

Looks like no one ever taught this kid how to get what he wants.

Well. It's about time.

Cyrus doesn’t answer, and TJ naturally puts a hand on his shoulder, pointing at the bowl. After all, he’s used to motivating his teammates at practice. What’s one more kid?

“Walk to the muffin like you already own it,” he instructs, trying to sound like Coach Purcell.

Buffy doesn’t even let him answer. “He can’t do that,” she points out, and something about her tone makes TJ huff.

“Don’t tell him what he can’t do.”

They stare at each other, though it’s not like every other time in the gym. He can’t tell if she’s judging him or reconsidering her judgment of him, but either way, he doesn’t blink. If they're gonna do this, they're gonna do it his way. She doesn't get to interfere.

Cyrus must’ve noticed the tension, because he tries to break it shortly after.

“Dancing with danger is on my bucket list,” he giggles, sensibly back on topic. This time, TJ could swear he heard a laugh track right at the end of the line, before Cyrus’ smile faded.

“Then what do I do?” the smaller boy worries. His nerves are getting the better of him again — or at least that's what his big, puppy eyes seem to suggest. To be honest, TJ’s never met anyone whose mood could change that quickly. It’s almost comical.

He goes for a shrug, as in that’s all you have to know.  “Take the muffin," he explains, settling for a simple smirk. Part of his mind is seriously wondering if laughing at this kid would be a criminal offense or something.

“That’s it?” Cyrus’ face twists in a funny snarl at his words.

TJ puts his Coach voice back on. “Just don’t let anybody stand in your way.”

Cyrus’ lips purse, his now confident gaze shifting to the muffins on his right. When he nods solemnly at them, TJ has to admit, he almost breaks character. Almost. Then he gives him a little encouraging push, though Cyrus struggles to keep his balance for a second, and right when he’s stopped walking like someone’s holding him back with a rope, Cyrus turns to the guys lined up behind him.

It's so easy for TJ to pinpoint the moment he chickens out again.

“Mind if I…?” Cyrus asks with a shaky voice, hand timidly stretched out to grab the muffin. Seems like the kids don’t share the same idea, since they start protesting as soon as his fingers touch the wrapper.

They're speaking so loud TJ gets almost offended by it.

Why should they let him take muffins as he pleases, but give Cyrus hell when he’s gone as far as asking them nicely? He’s standing next to Cyrus before he knows it, like he's unable to control his feet.

“Hey!” he tries to shut the crowd, and it works. They’re all staring at him in fear.

Somehow the silence that follows makes him even angrier, and he turns to the smaller boy.

“He’s with me,” TJ states, ignoring the annoying lump in his throat. Most kids duck their heads at that, and TJ just wants to get out of here.

With a nod towards the bowl, he gets a glimpse of Cyrus’ face asking a quiet but amazed really? before taking the hint. Cyrus grabs the last muffin, showing it proudly to the kids. The way he holds it like it’s worth a thousand bucks should be a comedy sketch on its own, but then he talks to it.

“You’re gonna taste so sweet.”

TJ can’t stop the smirk as the boy takes his first bite. Now that he's free to leave the scene, he knows a part of him just won't resist the urge to shove this amazing victory in Buffy’s smiling face.

“I’ll need at least a C plus," he announces, walking past her with satisfaction. 

He doesn't need to turn around to know how she reacts.

Chapter Text

TJ recognizes his voice before he sees him. It stuck. 

This time it's singing something that sounds like one of those nursery rhymes from kindergarten, though with different words. TJ can’t even remember the last time he heard one.

He'd find it funny if this wasn’t one of those days.

After his last tutor quit, they just started happening — and now with Buffy, too, except maybe they’re worse. It’s like his mind went back to fifth grade all over again, to the day Mr. Barlow told TJ’s mom her son was the most hopeless student of his entire career, quote-unquote. TJ used to care about grown-ups a lot more then, and yet thinking of those words makes his throat sting.

It feels like this thing has been going on forever.

As much as he'd like to, he can't remember anything about the time math really started to become a problem for him. Maybe it was always a problem, and he just wasn’t paying enough attention to know. That wouldn’t be news, right? He never pays attention. There’s always something wrong with him, and he always finds out when the damage is already done.

He hates it.

He hates that people like Buffy get to look down on him as if he’s some stupid jock. He hates that they're right, because he is one. He chose to be.

This side of the park is almost empty by now, but Cyrus’ little song is a bit of a throwback all the same. It's crazy to think that TJ used to be like him: the easy-going type of kid who does teacher impressions and changes the song lyrics to make people laugh. His parents liked that so much they came up with this game where they'd make a record out of the funniest parody song, just like in a real music studio. TJ’s grandparents were both the audience and the jury — which is probably the only reason he used to win so much. His songs were real nonsense. He’s listened to them.

“ ...legs go down, that’s how we make the swing go round. Drag your feet, you go slow, the more you drag, the less you go… ”

Cyrus’ one’s way better.

When TJ finds him on the swing, he stops behind it to listen again. There’s nothing more he’d like right now than to fix his math-deficient knockoff of a brain, and yet something tells him it won’t be enough as the smaller boy rocks back and forth on his seat, singing like he’s not alone in an empty park where all the swing sets are made for two.

TJ wishes he could be like him. Not... ashamed.

So he drops his bag on a rock, before he can change his mind. With a casual hand on the swingset, he tries to come up with something to say.

“Legs go up— ”

“Nice song."

Cyrus turns sharply, not even bothering to slow down. The scared look on his face is exactly the reason why TJ thought he’d regret this, but it's too late now. There's a clank of the swing chains when Cyrus stops swinging that startles TJ's eyes into searching the park, looking for an idea of what he's going to say next.

“What do you sing when you’re on the slide?” he asks, taking a wild guess.

Cyrus looks confused, but doesn’t miss a beat. “We go down, we say yay, we don’t climb up, that’s the wrong way. ”

“Huh," TJ says, kinda surprised that he just sang all that. It makes him automatically smile. “Didn't expect you’d have a song for that.”

Cyrus grins back.

It’s such a small thing, but enough to take a weight off TJ’s shoulders. He had the same grin at the cafeteria, TJ thinks. Right before taking the muffin. Like he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Chocolate chocolate chip muffin, right?” he remembers.

“Scary basketball guy." Cyrus points at him.

And there it is: another student bringing up the rumors about TJ being the stereotypical bad guy. TJ’s so fed up by it, he can't even find it in himself to be annoyed anymore.

“Actually… TJ," he simply corrects him. And it’s weird, but he’s not surprised that Cyrus seems to get it. This kid looks too nice for his own good.

“I know,” Cyrus replies, as TJ wonders about his face saying more than what he means. “Cyrus.”

And that's when it dawns on him: he just walked here without having a reason to. He doesn't know Cyrus. He has no idea what to tell him.

With an awkward pause, he walks to the empty swing seat. His poker face works on autopilot, but his brain must be a little short-circuited because, next thing he knows, he's holding the swing chain, face to face with Cyrus, and whatever he just said comes all back to him at once.

"So, do you… hang out here a lot?"

Wow, he thinks. Mr. TJ Lame Kippen, here. Why am I even doing this?

"Only when I'm feeling bad about myself," Cyrus explains, tone way too casual for that kind of answer. TJ couldn’t relate more. "So… fairly often.”

"Hm." Sounds like TJ's not the only one having a hard time, today. Or most days.

To be honest, he'd never have guessed by the way Cyrus was singing just a few minutes ago. So he asks: "Does it help?"

"It helps me."

Cyrus shrugs, following TJ's gaze on the empty seat. He figures it wouldn't hurt to give it a go, and Cyrus prompts him like he just read his mind.

"Go on. You look like you need it."

Alright, TJ thinks, as he walks around the seat and lets his now-too-long pair of legs plump down onto it. It's second nature for him to swing, even after all these years, but it may not be the same for Cyrus, whose slow chains squeak out of sync with TJ's like he still doesn't know how to pump.

And maybe it should feel awkward. How they're so different and don't know each other and this whole swinging deal that looks like something out of kindergarten. But even that is a better description of how it really feels: kindergarten.

A place with no judgment. No pressure. No math, even. Without angry teachers and bad grades and Buffy Driscoll-s to make you feel like every wrong thing is your fault. 

Just kids who want to play with you. Who don't care about what you did or how stupid you are.

And just like that, the switch inside TJ's brain turns itself on. When was the last time he's been swinging?

“Wow, this does kinda make me feel better,” he finds himself saying.

“What do you need to feel better about?” Cyrus asks. “You’re the captain of the basketball team."

TJ’s too busy enjoying the cool breeze to be annoyed at the assumption.

“You don’t know me,” he points out. (But his voice does drop a bit, despite himself.) "I got stuff."

It's a word that sums things up okay when he doesn't feel like talking. That, and when he's trying not to scare off potential new friends.

"Bet you I got more stuff," Cyrus jokes, a dip back in his element to TJ's loose nerves. He may be a better candidate than TJ initially thought. At least he doesn't push it, like Buffy always does.

"Yeah?" he plays along, turning to face him for a second. Since bets are more his kind of thing, he doesn't take much to think of a comeback. "Betcha I can swing higher."

Cyrus stretches the I with hesitation. “I’m afraid to swing high. That’s part of my stuff.”

Right, TJ chuckles, remembering how anxious he was that time in the cafeteria. He probably wouldn't have done it if TJ hadn't been there to give him a little push.

It makes him wonder if he could get him to swing high as well.

There’s a rush of adrenaline up his spine at the thought that makes him start pumping his legs with more energy, like a fight against the pull of gravity. Not that he knows why or how or anything, but maybe this is helping, in a way. Every new push takes one more load off his mind. Makes it a bit lighter.

“Wooo!”

He lets the shout go, feeling like there’s nothing he could do wrong up there. How could he forget this was so much fun? Cyrus was right.

“I don’t know why I ever stopped swingin’!” he tells him, with another laugh coming on. He has to make Cyrus feel this. "C’mon, get up here."

Cyrus sounds hesitant. "This is as up as I go."

Too bad TJ's in too good of a mood to take no for an answer.

"Wooo-hoo!” 

He's always liked the feeling of falling that pulls at your stomach when you reach the peak. The prospect of what he's about to do makes him giggle, and he waits to get to the highest point before jumping off the swing, body turning around in one swift motion.

Man… it's been years since he last did that.

He doesn't really warn Cyrus when he hops behind the taken seat, but he does catch a glimpse of his surprised face, a gape so cute it makes TJ laugh under his breath. Cyrus' eyes are fixed on his face, probably to figure out what's going on in that big brain of his, and when that's clear enough, he turns his head around with a knowing look — something that screams oh no and bring it on somehow at the same time.

That's all it takes for TJ to know, and he gives the first push.

"Waah! Aah!" Cyrus panics, even though it's really not that bad yet. TJ suppresses a laugh and pushes him a little higher.

"Aaaaah!"

That's better, he thinks with a grin. So you get ready for the real deal.

"Underdog!" TJ yells, pushing Cyrus with all his strength while he ducks under the seat and runs on the opposite side of the swing. It's been years since he last did this, too.

Cyrus screams so loud TJ can feel the excitement radiating from him. "Aaaaaaah! Woah," he gasps, eyes wide open as the swing moves forward and backwards.

TJ looks up at him, a weird sense of pride growing warm in his chest.

"That was exhilarating!" Cyrus says with a huge smile.

TJ's heart is beating fast in his ears. "You want another one?"

"No, thank you."

"Hm," he pouts, tilting his head to the side. "Too bad!"

"U-um…"

He can't help but laugh at the mix of yes and no in Cyrus' voice. Obviously, he listens to the yes, running behind the swing to push him so high that his words get lost in the next couple of screams.

"Aah! Aaaah! Woaaaah!"

Looks like Cyrus' not holding back anymore. His voice goes up freely, reaching high-pitched tones that tickle under TJ's skin like electricity. He doesn't look embarrassed about it, and that alone is enough for TJ's surprise to kick in again.

Cyrus is so much cooler than he could ever pretend to be.

It's flattering, almost, to watch him let go like this; though he couldn't explain why. And they apparently have this thing, now, which he can't explain either. If any of his friends could see him right no—

"Cyrus! You okay?"

TJ looks up to find Buffy running towards them.

Of course.

The worried look on her face is the same she gave TJ during his tutoring session, which is probably why TJ's hands stop pushing Cyrus without being told to.

"I-I gotta go," he stutters, overwhelmed by the sudden urge to leave. It takes a while to force his frozen body to turn, but she shouldn't be here. She shouldn't see this.

"...TJ?"

Buffy's voice sounds so shocked that TJ's backbone itches in response. He can feel it already, floating back again through his spine: the shame, first; the judgment behind her words; the feeling of all those stupid numbers slipping out of his head; the anger.

Yeah. That's always the worst one.

He takes a few steps in the opposite direction.

"No— TJ," Cyrus calls, and when TJ glances at him, he's getting down the swing to follow, so he turns around.

"You don't have to," Cyrus promises. "Buffy, she's really cool—"

"Yeah, no," TJ interrupts him. As much as he'd like to stay with Cyrus, he'd rather do it when Buffy's not around.

He could take this chance to say something nice, though. Cyrus was a good distraction. The best so far, even.

"But… thanks for reminding me about swinging," he points out, hoping it doesn't sound too weird. "That helped."

He's pretty sure the way Cyrus' staring at him is supposed to mean something, but Buffy's getting closer.

"I'm out," he tells him, pointing behind himself with a turn.

"Hold up a sec!"

Buffy shouts the words right when he’s leaning down to grab his backpack. On any other day, he’d keep running and pretend she doesn’t exist, but not today. If there's a person TJ doesn't want to be labeled by, that would be Cyrus. He has to turn around.

"Did you get my text?" Buffy asks him. TJ rolls his eyes and takes his phone from the pocket.

Meet me in math class in ten. I’ve got BIG news!!

"Yeah," he talks back. What, does she think TJ spends his days waiting for her to text him, now?

Buffy ignores the sarcasm. "Cyrus, can you… give us the playground?"

“Yeah,” Cyrus reflexively grants. “Um... you know where to find me.” TJ wasn’t expecting him to turn in his direction again, but he does. “And… so do you,” Cyrus adds, like they share an inside joke or something. 

TJ tries to smile. It’s cool of Cyrus to hint at their conversation, and the idea of meeting at the swings without being interrupted by their friends sounds even cooler, but right now he’s too bummed by Buffy the Mood Slayer to savour it. She doesn’t actually remind him of fun times.

Cyrus leaves with a smile. And TJ's stuck with Buffy, of course. All over again.