Chapter Text
– XADEN –
January 18th
week one
Xaden lets out a long breath and taps his pencil against the table a couple of times before he scratches the side of his neck. Looking down at the form in front him, he’s questioning a few of his decisions lately and wonders what the fuck he’s even doing right now.
Occupation. That one is easy enough to fill out, at least. So is name and age. Xaden. Twenty-seven. He puts down Air traffic controller for occupation, not bothering with the rest of it, even though his current job is only half of it.
Hobbies/passions. He taps his pencil again, the movement one of frustration. Almost ten years in the service makes this a difficult question to answer. It probably shouldn't be, but the answers that come to mind are bleeding through from work. He’s not entirely sure who he is anymore, underneath it all. He gave up on dreams and passions a long time ago.
Three words to describe yourself. Desperate to leave.
“Don't even think about it." Bodhi’s voice pulls him out of his immediate urge to get the hell out, reminding him why he is here. For Bodhi’s sake. “If you're dragging me to this thing, the least you can do is answer this stupid form truthfully."
He can't fully remember why they chose a speed dating event as a safe, low stakes way to get Bodhi out of his usual comfort zones but here they are. He’s fairly sure it must have been Garrick's idea, because he definitely wouldn't come up with this himself.
“It's not like I'm here to meet anyone," Xaden grumbles under his breath as he fills out a semi-honest answer to the next question on the form. A fun-fact or unique detail about himself.
“None of us are," Garrick shrugs with a half-grin, one dimple almost showing on his cheek. He nods in Xaden’s direction. Then he lowers his voice so that it barely travels. “Not that it could hurt."
Xaden, not wanting to get into it, pretends like he didn't hear his best friend. There's no reason to tell them right now that he'll most likely sign up for another round when his contract is over. He misses the structure of it. Misses being in environments where loud noises actually mean something, and not just his veins filling with anxiety for no fucking reason. There's no point worrying them yet. Not when he hasn't fully decided.
But another three or four or five years doesn't sound all that bad.
He stares at the next part of the form. His preferences. What he’s looking for. He bites down the urge to look up at the sound of a glass shattering, someone raising their voice. It's just a broken fucking glass. It doesn't need his full attention. It won't hurt anyone.
He should have argued for something quieter. Less noises, less chatter, less triggers. But he’s here now. He's going to be overstimulated and mentally exhausted by the end of the night, but nothing to do about that now. He’s good at pretending, at faking it.
Fuck, maybe he needs this as much as his cousin does.
Gods, he feels like a fucking hypocrite.
He stares at the next question to fill out. What are his intentions? Before he can write down casual, Imogen joins their table and puts down four pints of beer in the middle of the sticky surface.
“You douchebags not done yet?" she asks with a grin and he’s almost certain he can see Garrick contemplate kissing her, but deciding against it. They're supposed to be single tonight or they’ll definitely be kicked out, leaving Xaden and Bodhi alone. “That took me like five seconds to fill out."
“Some of us are taking this seriously," Garrick chides her, his wedding band gleaming in the overhead lights as he reaches for a beer. His hand grazes Imogen's as he pulls it back, lingering for too long to be casual, and the look they share is close to disgusting.
Xaden writes long-term and hides his answer by sliding a napkin over half of his form.
Hypocrite.
Ideal partner traits.
He thinks too long about this one. He’s fairly sure he doesn't have a type. If he does, or if he did, it's been forgotten during his decade in the Air Force. Not that there haven't been women – there definitely has – but they haven't been a priority for most of his adult life. He thought maybe he found someone a few years back, their relationship working during his time in the service and when they only saw each other occasionally.
It went to shit when he got out of active duty. Three months later, it was over. They didn't work together anymore. Maybe they never actually did, their personalities too different and too clashing when they spent enough time together that they could be considered a normal couple. And while he had struggled to transition to a life outside of the Air Force, she struggled with who he was underneath it all. All the broken pieces that war had left him with. Some pieces he wasn't sure he even wanted to fix, because he wasn't sure they were actually broken. Just bent.
“You need someone smart," Imogen breaks through his thoughts and he looks up at her with a cocked brow. “Someone feisty."
“Stubborn," Garrick adds, nodding as he agrees with his wife. "Someone that won't accept your bullshit.”
“I don't need anyone," Xaden argues and Bodhi snorts softly from next to him.
“Sure you don't, cousin. Make sure to add that she’s emotionally intelligent. She needs to be to make up for the lack of it in you."
Xaden grumbles and smacks his cousin in the back of his head, flipping him off before he takes his form and leaves the table. Before he turns it in though, he quickly fills in the last question.
Smart. Stubborn. Confident. Selfless. Caring.
He might not know his own type, but if he needs someone, it's someone that can level with him. And besides, maybe it's not completely off base to add in the suggestions from the group of people that knows him better than anyone else.
It can't hurt.
Even though he's not taking this seriously.
Even though he’s not looking for someone.
Even though he doesn't actually want to be here.
He turns in his form and on his way back to their table, his attention catches on a group of four people not far from where he’s walking. “Good gods, Ridoc, can you for once be serious about something in your life?” a dark-skinned woman chides, snatching a piece of paper from a man’s hands. He’s laughing loudly but Xaden is only half focused on him. Instead his eyes linger on another woman at the same table. She has her back to him but what he can see is enough to spark a flicker of curiosity – her short build, soft curves pushed into a pair of black jeans and a blouse tucked into the waist.
Something tingles at the back of his mind, telling him to look closer, that there’s something familiar about her, but he shakes that away and slides back into his spot next to Bodhi and Garrick. As he returns, the hostess announces that it’s almost time to begin and proceeds to explain how the evening will work.
Xaden knows it’s too late to leave, but still eyes the door to the bar.
“Oh shit, right,” Garrick curses softly under his breath then, pulling Xaden’s attention to him. “My wedding band, I have to–” he starts to take it off, but from the pure look of murder in Imogen’s green eyes, he pushes it back onto his finger. “– make sure it’s right where it’s supposed to be.”
Bodhi hides a snort behind the rim of his pint of beer. Xaden doesn’t bother hiding his, causing Imogen to turn her lethal glare to him. Unfortunately for her, he stopped being afraid of that years ago. “Laugh all you want,” Garrick grins, one dimple popping, “I’m the only one of us having sex tonight.”
“In your dreams, big guy,” Imogen tells him, but there’s a gleam to her green eyes and Xaden is extremely aware that it’s highly possible tonight is some kind of weird fucking foreplay for the two of them. But he’s walked in on them one too many times to even bother caring anymore. That image will just be forever burned into his mind, no matter what he does to get it out.
At least he’s never walked in on Bodhi – that might actually be what kills him in the end, despite all his years of active duty suggesting his cause of death should be something more violent and bloody.
Around him, the already dimmed lights are dimmed some more and they’re ushered to their starting positions. Xaden slides down into the seat opposite a red-haired woman and decides after about thirty seconds that he hates this. Even if he was looking for someone he would hate this. It’s too forced, too much pressure, only three minutes to form an initial connection with someone.
He decides this is a horrible way to meet someone, but the woman in front of him seems to think the opposite. She fires away questions faster than he can pretend to answer, her mouth moving non-stop and barely letting him get a full sentence out.
When the bell rings and he leaves for the next table, he quickly marks a ‘no’ next to her name. His next couple of dates aren’t much better, if he’s being truthful. They’re not as chatty as the first woman, but he feels no real interest. Not even enough for a possible quick fuck. It’s been a while since he spent some time with anyone but his right fist, and if tonight brings nothing else, maybe it can at least bring that.
But again, he’s not holding out hope and in all honesty, he just wants to go home to his dog, his couch and a bad movie. The work week isn’t over yet, tonight being a Thursday. Besides, his own fist is more than fine when he needs release. He knows his natural arrogance and looks have caused women to think of him as a bit of a player in the past, but he’s never quite understood the allure of a one-night stand. The older he’s gotten, the less of a point he sees in it.
His sixth date is Imogen, and she lets out a laugh when he slumps down in the chair opposite hers. “Smile, Xay,” she chides him and reaches between them to thumb at the frown between his brows. “Gods, you need to relax.”
“Careful, Ims,” he drawls with a wicked grin, pretending he’s not at all tense. Pretending she doesn't know all the reasons why. “You're getting a little handsy for someone I just met. People might get the wrong impression.”
“Let them,” she shrugs and narrows her eyes when his frown won’t go away. She pulls her hand back and takes a sip of her beer. “If I wasn’t already sure I married the right guy, I am now. Men are gross. One wouldn’t stop staring at my breasts. Sure, I have great tits, but I have eyes. And a fucking brain.”
A flash of protectiveness washes up inside him and his eyes grow harder as he leans forward, resting his elbow on the table. “Point me in his fucking direction and-”
“No,” she waves her hand dismissively in the air. “It’s enough to know I’m going home with the best of them.”
“I hope you’re including me and Bodhs in that statement.”
She rolls her green eyes and he relaxes slightly. “You know you’re my number three, Xaden. Always.”
He snorts but neither of them can quite keep their smiles at bay. He might not have grown up with Imogen, not the way Bodhi did, but he’s still known her most of his life. He was first to know when she and Garrick got together as teenagers, first to know when they broke up because of the distance, first to know when they got back together. He was there – albeit cooped up on a mission – when Garrick called him and showed him options for a ring over a more than shaky internet connection that kept cutting off. He’s slept on her couch during close to fifty different leaves over the years, came home for her college graduation and her wedding to his best friend. She’s quite literally the sister he never asked for. He'd do just about anything for her, just as he would Bodhi and Garrick.
His three minutes with Imogen are up far too soon, but he’s more relaxed after them and his next couple of dates are easier. Maybe it’s that chatting to Imogen reminded him that he does actually want someone – deep down – or maybe it’s just the effect she has on him.
Date number ten is the last one before a small break halfway through the evening. It’s with a pretty woman that seems to check a few of his boxes. She’s holding herself in a confident way, her blue-gray eyes seem to hold some wisdom. She looks a little younger than what he would originally prefer, but he doesn’t ask because he does have some fucking tact. Her light strawberry blonde hair falls in waves and she can more than hold a conversation. She seems at ease, relaxed, and fuck it, he finds himself asking his own questions, wanting to know more about her.
At the end of their three minutes, he can see himself meeting her again, finding out more about her. He makes a little note in his date card and flashes her a smile as he gets up from the table to find Bodhi, Garrick and Imogen.
Maybe tonight doesn’t have to be all bad, after all.
During the break, they have fifteen minutes to fill up on drinks and get some air. Xaden and the others spend most of that time outside, huddled together on the street, and Xaden can feel himself relax a bit more. There's less noise out here, less people, less triggers. He can focus on his group of chosen family, can tune out the sounds of traffic, and get a bit of a break from everything and everyone else. They spend the break chatting between them, summarizing their dates, joking about the lack of personality in some of them, and making plans for the weekend.
“I think I found a match for you," Bodhi says as he pulls a cigarette from his mouth, handing it over to Imogen. He looks to Xaden with a smirk as he breathes out a puff of smoke.
“We’re not here for me," Xaden reminds his cousin, mentally cursing him for a lot of things. “You're the one that wanted to try new things this year. I’m perfectly fine the way things are."
Garrick breathes out a scoff and slides one large hand around Imogen’s waist. "And you need to loosen up a bit, brother. You need to have fun and forget that sense of duty of yours.”
“What the fuck is wrong with a sense of duty?"
"Nothing, but you need to do something for you, for once,” Imogen agrees and Xaden feels more than a little attacked. Amari above, they're here for Bodhi, so why are they all ganging up on him?
"Who’s the girl?" Garrick asks Bodhi before Xaden can say anything and his cousin grins.
“I’ll tell you but not him. I don't think they've met yet."
“Fucking gods,” Xaden mutters under his breath and turns around to leave, the sound of their laughter following him back inside.
After he takes a piss, Xaden buys himself another beer and then finds his next table. His eleventh date is the woman he spotted before, the woman that had snatched the form out of a man’s – Ridoc’s, his mind supplies – hands. She’s pretty enough, with her dark skin and her black, braided hair. Her high cheekbones and oval face make her more than pretty actually – she’s beautiful. But there’s no spark, no interest, no curiosity and despite a good conversation, he decides to mark her as a ‘no’.
He barely notices his twelfth date, or his thirteenth, and he’s so fucking ready to go home by his fifteenth that he can’t even pretend to enjoy himself anymore. He knows he’s not exactly making any good first impressions, but he’s too tired, too mentally depleted, to care. It’s getting more and more difficult to cut out the noise around him, his brain unable to focus properly, to select one thing out of the thousands around him. He can no longer filter all the impressions, and a headache is forming – the pressure behind his eyes pulsing with the beat of his heart.
Xaden knows the evening is almost over, that he only has five more dates to get through before he can make his excuses and head home, so he locks his jaw and slides into another chair for his sixteenth date of the night.
The first thing he notices is pale, fair skin on fingers wrapped around a bottle of beer. Short, natural nails and toned arms as he raises his gaze. He spots her long, voluminous braid next, hanging over her shoulder, the tips of it resting on the curve of her breast. He doesn’t have to see her face – beautiful, ethereal, her eyes a mix of hazel and pale blue with a hint of green when the light hits just right – for his chest to tighten, for his heart to beat slightly faster.
Xaden’s eyes are stuck on her hair, his face one of boredom as he fixates on it, as he pushes down the wildfire of something that wants to break through. Because Xaden has seen hair like this before, on one other person. Brown at the roots, gradually fading around the shoulders to a steely, metallic silver by the ends.
Fuck.
He definitely should have left earlier.