Fic: Punk Rock Girl (Ace/Hex, R, ~2,300 words)
Title: Punk Rock Girl
Author: livii
Pairing: Ace/Hex
Rating: R
Summary: In which it's retro night, strange girls with pink hair have code names, and Hex is spoiled for any other girl, ever, at the tender age of eighteen. Where's your head at?
Notes: Both characters are above the age of consent in the UK in this story. ~2,300 words.
She's not, strictly speaking, the type of girl he normally goes for. Not that he especially has a type - what with mostly just dreaming about girls so far up to this point in his life - other than clever, and funny, and not that he'd admit it to anyone, but a little bit crazy, too. So technically, then, she could be his type; only usually the girls he's liked have had less spiky hair and a bit more conventional dress sense.
"Punk's a way of life, man," she says, catching him staring, while she leans against the bar. He's trying to get the bartender to serve him a drink, and failing miserably. "Oi!" she barks out. The bartender turns at that - as does everyone around them.
"Thanks," Hex says, trying not to keep staring. Her hair's tremendously pink, and shockingly attractive.
"Just get me one of those, and we're even," she replies, and so he orders a second beer and passes it to her.
"Cheers, mate," she says, raising her bottle. "He wouldn't serve me - don't have my ID." He raises his bottle back, and they clink them together.
She leans back a little further, and reaches into her jacket pocket to pull out a packet of cigarettes. "Want one?" she offers, but he shakes his head.
"You can't smoke in here," he says, "no matter how punk you are. I'll show you where the balcony is, if you like."
She grins, the unlit cigarette between her lips. "Lead on."
* * *
It's still pretty noisy out on the balcony, and there's more than a few people using the corners for purposes that make him a little embarrassed. Still, it's quieter, and she lights up, taking a deep drag. The coolness factor is lost as she coughs heavily a moment later.
"Nice one," he says, leaning over to pound her on the back.
"Just a little stronger than I anticipated. It's okay," she replies. Her eyes are a little watery and there's a small smudge in her thick black eyeliner, in the corner of her left eye. He feels an almost irresistible urge to wipe it away, and she catches him staring.
"Big on the staring, aren't we?" she says, and he blushes a bit. "I take it I don't quite fit in around here?"
"More of a dance club," he explains, "though it is retro night. Just...not that retro."
She grins. "Well, I've never exactly worried about that sort of thing. The pink's in honour of a friend of mine, actually. Thought I'd give it a whirl, pretty boy."
"Oh, another nice one," he says. "So come on, you got a name, then? Or do I have to call you Pink-Haired Girl?"
"I'm...listen. Just call me Jane, okay? Easiest."
"Easiest?" he asks, grinning. "Got a last name then, Jane?"
"Doe. Don't laugh!"
He can't keep from grinning more widely. "Okay, Miss Jane Doe. Whatever. You a secret agent, or something?"
Her face grows deeply serious at that comment; he's struck by the change in her looks. She's fierce, he thinks, and he gets a small shiver up his spine.
"Yeah, pretty much," she says simply, "and I could use someone on my side. No details, no questions."
He can't help himself; she looks so honest underneath all that, and so very young, and he finds himself nodding his head before he can think about what the hell she could be going on about.
"So what's yours, then?" she asks. At his confused look, she continues. "Name, age, rank. That sort of thing."
He hesitates a moment. "Hex. Don't laugh."
"I won't! Now that's well retro-sounding. You undercover too? C'mon, tell us."
"Well, my full name's Thomas Hector Schofield - bit of a mouthful."
"I'll say," she replies, with a grin. "Not interested in Thomas, though? Tom? Tommy-boy?"
"No," he replies vehemently. "Sorry, just, no. Okay?"
"Fine with me," she says.
"I'm just starting to use it - trying it out, as it were. I just had my eighteenth birthday and I thought it was time for - a change. Do you think it works?" He feels incredibly shy, and suddenly craves her approval.
"Yeah," she replies, eyes twinkling.
The feeling in his chest is - well. He suddenly feels awfully brave. "So, Miss Jane Doe - do you wanna dance?"
* * *
She's a riot on the dance floor; not afraid to move, really get into the music. He finds himself grinning, a lot. His friends, though, he notices, are giving him funny looks.
The DJ comes on over the loudspeakers. "Bringing it way back here," he says, and the crowd sings along with the opening of the song, breaking into cheers.
"I've been kind of out of it," she yells, leaning in close so he can hear her over the music. "I don't know any of these songs."
"This is real classic stuff," he yells back. "Totally retro. I was just a tiny kid when this one came out."
"What year?" she asks.
"This one's from the - well, they never really did figure out what to call that decade, did they? The oughties?"
"No, what year is it now?" she says. He stares at her for a moment, then breaks into laughter.
"Awesome," he says, "good cover story! I love it!"
She shrugs, and goes back to dancing. There's a funny feeling creeping up his spine, but he shakes it off.
Jim comes up to him then, and motions for him to head to the bar. Hex follows him through the crowd, smiling at Jane as he goes.
As soon as they get to a quieter corner by the bar, Jim turns on him. "What are you doing with that girl? Jesus, she's weird."
"She's - she's okay," Hex replies, embarrassed.
"She doesn't fit in here," Jim continues. "Did you go to school with her? We're undergraduates now, my man, we're eighteen and there are loads of cooler things we should be doing than dancing with freaks."
"I feel sorry for her," Hex lies, feeling shame spread through him. "And she looks a little - well, you know." He elbows Jim, who laughs.
"Be careful, girl like that, probably full of diseases," Jim says, and takes off, throwing Hex a wink.
He turns back to the bar, humiliated, and orders another beer.
"Was wondering where you ran off to," a voice says quietly at his shoulder, and he jumps. "C'mon, buy us another one too?" It's Jane, and she has a funny look on her face.
"You didn't - oh my god, you didn't hear that, did you? Jim, he's a total wanker. I was just - oh my god, I'm so sorry."
"I'm pretty used to it," she says, and takes his bottle of beer. "God, this stuff is vile. Wanna go talk on the balcony again?" She reaches out her hand, and he looks at it, blinking stupidly for a moment, before cautiously taking it in his own.
* * *
They lean against the wall, in one of the darker corners. She shivers, despite her jacket, and he puts his arm around her.
"It's a code word," she says suddenly, after a long swig of the beer. She passes the bottle back to him and he drains it, feeling a bit shaky and confused and more than a little aroused.
"Like a magic word, or what?" he asks, and she shakes her head.
"I don't know," she says, a note of complaint creeping into her voice. "God, I don't know anything. This is so useless."
"I'm sorry," he says, at a lack for anything else to say, and tightens his grip around her shoulders a little bit.
"The Professor said I'd know what to do, but for god's sake, just a bunch of uni students out clubbing, this is so not my scene."
"Professor?" he says, feeling vaguely relieved; he still hasn't been able to place her age. "You're at school then too, right?"
"It's just a - another nickname," she says, shaking her head. "Code words for everyone, even you, and not the one I need. I'm - god, how old am I now? Seventeen? Nah, probably still sixteen. Something like that. Doesn't matter out there, anyway."
He's completely lost, but the one salient fact that gets through the fog is that he has to back away, now. He withdraws his arm, and she looks up, frowning.
"Aw, don't be like that," she says, and she - she pouts, and Hex realizes backing away is going to be a lot harder than he anticipated. She pouts for a moment longer, then loses her composure and breaks into laughter.
"You're the only one here who doesn't think I'm crazy," she says, and she gets up on her tiptoes and kisses him, hard.
"It's 2016," he says, a few minutes later. "Oh my god, yes." She's pressed herself flush against him and is doing this - this thing with her hips, and he can't stop himself from grabbing onto her hips and lifting her up.
She wraps her legs around his waist, and laughs as he moans into her neck. "Nice one, pretty boy," she says, and pulls his head forward to kiss him again.
He's been with two girls before this - well, that might be overstating it a little, but he did go all the way with Amy Robinson last summer, so it's not like he's totally new to this. Jane, though, is like nothing he's ever seen before. She's so alive - and her skin is hot under his fingers and her movements are becoming really erratic and unfocused, and he can barely think.
"We, we, yeah," he says a few minutes later, panting for breath, "we have to stop. Oh my god, there, I'm going to, Jane, please, please."
She laughs - so light, so unlike the rest of her demeanour - and reaches for the button on his jeans. He just about jumps out of his skin.
"Relax, I've got protection," she says, drawing a small foil packet out of one of her jacket pockets, all the while undoing his fly. He steadies her against the wall, and swallows, hard.
"Jane," he says, "I'm not saying I don't want this, but, this isn't normally, I don't, I mean, I don't normally -"
"Screw strange girls outside clubs? Hold on, there." She's slipped the condom on him and he helps her shimmy her tights down her legs. "It's okay - come on."
He groans, and slides inside her. She winces - just a little, but he notices.
"You've done this before?" he asks, voice cracking. "I mean, not this exactly, but -"
"Once," she says gently, shifting her weight. "It's okay. It's brilliant."
And it really, really is.
* * *
He finds it hard to look her in the eye afterwards; he does up his jeans and tries to make some sense of his hair. He glances at her, and even though it's dark, notices her eyeliner has really started to run now. He reaches out, this time, to wipe it away.
"Thanks," she says, and smiles. He's dazzled all over again, and grins back, a little shyly.
"That was really nice," he says, then kicks himself for how lame he sounds. "I mean, yeah. Um."
She laughs at that, and leans over and cuffs him in the arm. Her tights are ripped and her hair's coming loose, and he thinks she looks incredibly gorgeous.
"You got to go, or?" she asks.
"I have class tomorrow," he says, "but I don't want to go. I can study in the morning. Um. Are you staying around here?"
She grins, affects a stuffy accent. "Study hard, my lad, it's your patriotic duty!"
He shakes his head. "You don't look like one of those nutters," he says, and continues at her curious look. "You know, the Britain-first, all good white lads to stand up for - for King and Country, and all that."
All of a sudden, her face falls curiously blank; her jaw hangs slackly. He feels like someone's just punched him in the stomach.
"Jane. Jane!" he says, reaching out to grab her shoulders.
"What?" she says, shaking her head slowly. "I'm sorry, I must have been daydreaming. Sorry about that. And you are?"
He stares at her. "Uh, that's a taking the undercover thing a bit far, Jane. Come on. Don't scare me like that."
"Jane?" She cocks her head. "Yeah, I'm sorry, but something's gone a little funny, here. What was it you just said? King and Country? I gotta go tell the Professor about this."
"You - yeah, okay," he says, sticking his hands in his pockets. "You got a phone number? I can - text you, or something?"
She gives him a smile, and there's so much pity in her eyes that he can feel himself turning red. "I'll see you around," she says kindly, patting his shoulder. "Watch out - the Forge are nasty business, don't get tangled up with them."
"I - I won't," he says, as she turns and strides away. "Jane. Jane! Be careful too!"
"Sure thing," she calls back, without turning around. "Take care, uh - you there."
"It's Hex!" he calls out, but she's too far away; she can't hear him.
He sighs, and walks over to the railing. He looks around, but she's vanished; it's like she never existed. Off in the distance, a flash of light catches his eye, for half a second only, before it blinks out.
The next morning he wakes up with a splitting headache, and the telly is blaring about an explosion that leveled a building outside the city. The police are looking for two suspects: a small man with an umbrella, and a young girl with pink hair.
Author: livii
Pairing: Ace/Hex
Rating: R
Summary: In which it's retro night, strange girls with pink hair have code names, and Hex is spoiled for any other girl, ever, at the tender age of eighteen. Where's your head at?
Notes: Both characters are above the age of consent in the UK in this story. ~2,300 words.
She's not, strictly speaking, the type of girl he normally goes for. Not that he especially has a type - what with mostly just dreaming about girls so far up to this point in his life - other than clever, and funny, and not that he'd admit it to anyone, but a little bit crazy, too. So technically, then, she could be his type; only usually the girls he's liked have had less spiky hair and a bit more conventional dress sense.
"Punk's a way of life, man," she says, catching him staring, while she leans against the bar. He's trying to get the bartender to serve him a drink, and failing miserably. "Oi!" she barks out. The bartender turns at that - as does everyone around them.
"Thanks," Hex says, trying not to keep staring. Her hair's tremendously pink, and shockingly attractive.
"Just get me one of those, and we're even," she replies, and so he orders a second beer and passes it to her.
"Cheers, mate," she says, raising her bottle. "He wouldn't serve me - don't have my ID." He raises his bottle back, and they clink them together.
She leans back a little further, and reaches into her jacket pocket to pull out a packet of cigarettes. "Want one?" she offers, but he shakes his head.
"You can't smoke in here," he says, "no matter how punk you are. I'll show you where the balcony is, if you like."
She grins, the unlit cigarette between her lips. "Lead on."
* * *
It's still pretty noisy out on the balcony, and there's more than a few people using the corners for purposes that make him a little embarrassed. Still, it's quieter, and she lights up, taking a deep drag. The coolness factor is lost as she coughs heavily a moment later.
"Nice one," he says, leaning over to pound her on the back.
"Just a little stronger than I anticipated. It's okay," she replies. Her eyes are a little watery and there's a small smudge in her thick black eyeliner, in the corner of her left eye. He feels an almost irresistible urge to wipe it away, and she catches him staring.
"Big on the staring, aren't we?" she says, and he blushes a bit. "I take it I don't quite fit in around here?"
"More of a dance club," he explains, "though it is retro night. Just...not that retro."
She grins. "Well, I've never exactly worried about that sort of thing. The pink's in honour of a friend of mine, actually. Thought I'd give it a whirl, pretty boy."
"Oh, another nice one," he says. "So come on, you got a name, then? Or do I have to call you Pink-Haired Girl?"
"I'm...listen. Just call me Jane, okay? Easiest."
"Easiest?" he asks, grinning. "Got a last name then, Jane?"
"Doe. Don't laugh!"
He can't keep from grinning more widely. "Okay, Miss Jane Doe. Whatever. You a secret agent, or something?"
Her face grows deeply serious at that comment; he's struck by the change in her looks. She's fierce, he thinks, and he gets a small shiver up his spine.
"Yeah, pretty much," she says simply, "and I could use someone on my side. No details, no questions."
He can't help himself; she looks so honest underneath all that, and so very young, and he finds himself nodding his head before he can think about what the hell she could be going on about.
"So what's yours, then?" she asks. At his confused look, she continues. "Name, age, rank. That sort of thing."
He hesitates a moment. "Hex. Don't laugh."
"I won't! Now that's well retro-sounding. You undercover too? C'mon, tell us."
"Well, my full name's Thomas Hector Schofield - bit of a mouthful."
"I'll say," she replies, with a grin. "Not interested in Thomas, though? Tom? Tommy-boy?"
"No," he replies vehemently. "Sorry, just, no. Okay?"
"Fine with me," she says.
"I'm just starting to use it - trying it out, as it were. I just had my eighteenth birthday and I thought it was time for - a change. Do you think it works?" He feels incredibly shy, and suddenly craves her approval.
"Yeah," she replies, eyes twinkling.
The feeling in his chest is - well. He suddenly feels awfully brave. "So, Miss Jane Doe - do you wanna dance?"
* * *
She's a riot on the dance floor; not afraid to move, really get into the music. He finds himself grinning, a lot. His friends, though, he notices, are giving him funny looks.
The DJ comes on over the loudspeakers. "Bringing it way back here," he says, and the crowd sings along with the opening of the song, breaking into cheers.
"I've been kind of out of it," she yells, leaning in close so he can hear her over the music. "I don't know any of these songs."
"This is real classic stuff," he yells back. "Totally retro. I was just a tiny kid when this one came out."
"What year?" she asks.
"This one's from the - well, they never really did figure out what to call that decade, did they? The oughties?"
"No, what year is it now?" she says. He stares at her for a moment, then breaks into laughter.
"Awesome," he says, "good cover story! I love it!"
She shrugs, and goes back to dancing. There's a funny feeling creeping up his spine, but he shakes it off.
Jim comes up to him then, and motions for him to head to the bar. Hex follows him through the crowd, smiling at Jane as he goes.
As soon as they get to a quieter corner by the bar, Jim turns on him. "What are you doing with that girl? Jesus, she's weird."
"She's - she's okay," Hex replies, embarrassed.
"She doesn't fit in here," Jim continues. "Did you go to school with her? We're undergraduates now, my man, we're eighteen and there are loads of cooler things we should be doing than dancing with freaks."
"I feel sorry for her," Hex lies, feeling shame spread through him. "And she looks a little - well, you know." He elbows Jim, who laughs.
"Be careful, girl like that, probably full of diseases," Jim says, and takes off, throwing Hex a wink.
He turns back to the bar, humiliated, and orders another beer.
"Was wondering where you ran off to," a voice says quietly at his shoulder, and he jumps. "C'mon, buy us another one too?" It's Jane, and she has a funny look on her face.
"You didn't - oh my god, you didn't hear that, did you? Jim, he's a total wanker. I was just - oh my god, I'm so sorry."
"I'm pretty used to it," she says, and takes his bottle of beer. "God, this stuff is vile. Wanna go talk on the balcony again?" She reaches out her hand, and he looks at it, blinking stupidly for a moment, before cautiously taking it in his own.
* * *
They lean against the wall, in one of the darker corners. She shivers, despite her jacket, and he puts his arm around her.
"It's a code word," she says suddenly, after a long swig of the beer. She passes the bottle back to him and he drains it, feeling a bit shaky and confused and more than a little aroused.
"Like a magic word, or what?" he asks, and she shakes her head.
"I don't know," she says, a note of complaint creeping into her voice. "God, I don't know anything. This is so useless."
"I'm sorry," he says, at a lack for anything else to say, and tightens his grip around her shoulders a little bit.
"The Professor said I'd know what to do, but for god's sake, just a bunch of uni students out clubbing, this is so not my scene."
"Professor?" he says, feeling vaguely relieved; he still hasn't been able to place her age. "You're at school then too, right?"
"It's just a - another nickname," she says, shaking her head. "Code words for everyone, even you, and not the one I need. I'm - god, how old am I now? Seventeen? Nah, probably still sixteen. Something like that. Doesn't matter out there, anyway."
He's completely lost, but the one salient fact that gets through the fog is that he has to back away, now. He withdraws his arm, and she looks up, frowning.
"Aw, don't be like that," she says, and she - she pouts, and Hex realizes backing away is going to be a lot harder than he anticipated. She pouts for a moment longer, then loses her composure and breaks into laughter.
"You're the only one here who doesn't think I'm crazy," she says, and she gets up on her tiptoes and kisses him, hard.
"It's 2016," he says, a few minutes later. "Oh my god, yes." She's pressed herself flush against him and is doing this - this thing with her hips, and he can't stop himself from grabbing onto her hips and lifting her up.
She wraps her legs around his waist, and laughs as he moans into her neck. "Nice one, pretty boy," she says, and pulls his head forward to kiss him again.
He's been with two girls before this - well, that might be overstating it a little, but he did go all the way with Amy Robinson last summer, so it's not like he's totally new to this. Jane, though, is like nothing he's ever seen before. She's so alive - and her skin is hot under his fingers and her movements are becoming really erratic and unfocused, and he can barely think.
"We, we, yeah," he says a few minutes later, panting for breath, "we have to stop. Oh my god, there, I'm going to, Jane, please, please."
She laughs - so light, so unlike the rest of her demeanour - and reaches for the button on his jeans. He just about jumps out of his skin.
"Relax, I've got protection," she says, drawing a small foil packet out of one of her jacket pockets, all the while undoing his fly. He steadies her against the wall, and swallows, hard.
"Jane," he says, "I'm not saying I don't want this, but, this isn't normally, I don't, I mean, I don't normally -"
"Screw strange girls outside clubs? Hold on, there." She's slipped the condom on him and he helps her shimmy her tights down her legs. "It's okay - come on."
He groans, and slides inside her. She winces - just a little, but he notices.
"You've done this before?" he asks, voice cracking. "I mean, not this exactly, but -"
"Once," she says gently, shifting her weight. "It's okay. It's brilliant."
And it really, really is.
* * *
He finds it hard to look her in the eye afterwards; he does up his jeans and tries to make some sense of his hair. He glances at her, and even though it's dark, notices her eyeliner has really started to run now. He reaches out, this time, to wipe it away.
"Thanks," she says, and smiles. He's dazzled all over again, and grins back, a little shyly.
"That was really nice," he says, then kicks himself for how lame he sounds. "I mean, yeah. Um."
She laughs at that, and leans over and cuffs him in the arm. Her tights are ripped and her hair's coming loose, and he thinks she looks incredibly gorgeous.
"You got to go, or?" she asks.
"I have class tomorrow," he says, "but I don't want to go. I can study in the morning. Um. Are you staying around here?"
She grins, affects a stuffy accent. "Study hard, my lad, it's your patriotic duty!"
He shakes his head. "You don't look like one of those nutters," he says, and continues at her curious look. "You know, the Britain-first, all good white lads to stand up for - for King and Country, and all that."
All of a sudden, her face falls curiously blank; her jaw hangs slackly. He feels like someone's just punched him in the stomach.
"Jane. Jane!" he says, reaching out to grab her shoulders.
"What?" she says, shaking her head slowly. "I'm sorry, I must have been daydreaming. Sorry about that. And you are?"
He stares at her. "Uh, that's a taking the undercover thing a bit far, Jane. Come on. Don't scare me like that."
"Jane?" She cocks her head. "Yeah, I'm sorry, but something's gone a little funny, here. What was it you just said? King and Country? I gotta go tell the Professor about this."
"You - yeah, okay," he says, sticking his hands in his pockets. "You got a phone number? I can - text you, or something?"
She gives him a smile, and there's so much pity in her eyes that he can feel himself turning red. "I'll see you around," she says kindly, patting his shoulder. "Watch out - the Forge are nasty business, don't get tangled up with them."
"I - I won't," he says, as she turns and strides away. "Jane. Jane! Be careful too!"
"Sure thing," she calls back, without turning around. "Take care, uh - you there."
"It's Hex!" he calls out, but she's too far away; she can't hear him.
He sighs, and walks over to the railing. He looks around, but she's vanished; it's like she never existed. Off in the distance, a flash of light catches his eye, for half a second only, before it blinks out.
The next morning he wakes up with a splitting headache, and the telly is blaring about an explosion that leveled a building outside the city. The police are looking for two suspects: a small man with an umbrella, and a young girl with pink hair.