"Alpha Males in Their Natural Habitat"



Hobbes finds him asleep against the window. Drool and all. On the driver's side, and Hobbes knows that Fawkes knows that the driver's side is *his* side. They've been over this.

Hobbes drives. Fawkes rides shotgun.

This is how they operate. This is how things stay safe.

And here the kid is, conked out during a *stake out*, snoring loud enough to wake the dead and a few people that aren't yet, and on the *driver's side*.

The kid is testing him. It's how the world works. The alpha male gets tested. The alpha male holds his territory. The younger male gets in line. The universe is kept in order.

But still. He *knows* about the driver's seat.

Hobbes knocks on the window and scares Fawkes into being awake. He quicksilvers completely out of instinct and once he realizes it's Hobbes – with donuts that he was going to bring as a *reward* but Fawkes can forget that – he comes back into visibility. Good thing the kid got his shot yesterday and he's still on a full tank.

And he slides over to the other side of the van. Something resembling remembering who and where he is.

Hobbes dumps the box of donuts in his lap after he gets in and shuts the door.

"Please, I *want* you to expose yourself."

Fawkes rubs his eyes and blinks and then rubs them some more. It's pretty obvious that what Hobbes just said didn't mean what Fawkes is currently thinking he meant.

"Huh?"

"Just go invisible in front of any *schmoe* who surprises you. That's great. That's just wonderful. Hey, if you wanna blow cover, be my guest. But when they're scoopin' out your brains, don't come to me and ask for help."

"Thanks, I'll remember that," Fawkes says. He looks at the box of donuts with bleary eyes. "Donuts."

"No, it's a jelly filled bomb."

Fawkes is definitely out of it because it takes him a minute. That or he's been working for the agency too long, which is sad, because it's bad professional etiquette to lose it before you've been somewhere at least five years.

"Oh. Bombs away."

Fawkes devours the donut that Hobbes had specifically tagged for himself. Again, they've covered this territory. There are specific donuts that are *his*.

The kid is pushing all kinds of envelopes tonight.

"You couldn't stay awake? What, ya needed a nap?"

"No. I just got ten whole minutes of quality sleep, so I think I'm good."

Fawkes is still rubbing his eyes. And the way he looks, with wild hair and slanted, tired eyes, his face is even sharper and younger than it usually is.

"So you think we could get back to actually stakin' the place out?"

"Yeah. That brick wall could move at any time."

"What, you wanna go home? That it?"

Fawkes sighs. "Yes. I would *love* to go home, really. But I have a gland in my head and the only people who know how to keep me from becoming a psycho killer say I have to be here. So here I am, staring at a brick wall and a ranch style suburban home. Happy?"

Hobbes grunts which is a good indication that the answer to that is both unpleasant and negative. But Hobbes figures they're both grumpy and it's 3am and nothing has happened.

Plus, Darien has to do the "testing the alpha male" thing. It's natural. It's like adolescence or something. Everyone's gotta do it, but once they're over it, it's good again.

All he's gotta do it ride it out.

"You ate my donuts," Hobbes mentions, sitting back.

"What?"

"The ones with the creme in the middle, those were mine. And yet, you specifically took the donuts that I got for myself. You're testing the alpha, my friend, but I got your number."

Fawkes rolls his eyes. "I can't believe *anybody* would *ever* call you paranoid."

"Fine, eat my donuts. Sleep on *my* side of the van."

"Your side of the van? What are you - eight years old?"

"Look, pal, it's called territory. It's an essential part of my keen animal instinct. I got territory. You got territory. *This* is my territory."

Fawkes snorts with white powder around his mouth and finishes his donut.

"Kevin used to do that, in the car, when we were kids. Said one side was his, one side was mine. Whined every time I breathed over his side of the line."

"See? It's all about territory."

"Please," Fawkes laughs. "Two hours in a car with me and he didn't even have the side he was on. 'cause in case you didn't notice, I got the got the genes specifically related to taking things that don't belong to me."

"Well not here, my friend. Oh, no. Bobby Hobbes has been around a few times. I can understand the need to test your boundaries, but it ends here."

Fawkes starts laughing very hard and leans over so much that Hobbes starts leaning back.

"You're *really* cute when you're not makin' sense," Fawkes smiles in the way that snakes and sneaky things smile at you when you're not looking.

Only, Hobbes is looking. Dead on.

Next thing he knows, Fawkes is definitely in his territory, his personal space. One knee in between his legs to brace on the seat and his mouth over Hobbes.

Hobbes tastes the donut that was supposed to be his, the white powder on Fawkes's lips. And then a close whiff of Fawkes's hairgel, feels Fawkes' hand slide down.

"You wanna test, go ahead," Hobbes says in a voice that is a million times calmer than he feels at the moment. He leans against the door, reaches over to lock it for good measure. Then he looks from side to side, checks behind him as though changing lanes and asks Fawkes, "What's it feel like to – you know – Quicksilver?"

Fawkes smiles and Hobbes peers down to see his pants coming undone of their own accord, and it takes just a split second of wondering to realize it's because Fawkes has his entire hand quicksilvered.

Next thing he knows, everything from the waist down is sizzling in the best way possible with ice-cold electricity. His eyes roll just a little and he doesn't bother looking down. He slides down a little, puts his legs apart a little more to make everything easier.

Fawkes's hand is against the window above his head and Hobbes looks up, deliriously, to see the snake on his wrist – still indicating safety. Thank god the kid is on a full tank.

It occurs to him, as he watches Fawkes' hand disappear and leave only the foggy outline of a hand on the window that maybe – just maybe – Fawkes is doing this to appease him, because he is, after all, still the alpha male.

But as he wraps his hand around flesh that he can't see, Hobbes sort of hopes that it's not that at all.

He hopes it's a little more.

- END -