Archive of Our Own ^beta

He mainly skipped 4th period American history to play pinball while the arcade was empty, all its usual patrons in school.  It also had to do with Bruce’s muttered rants about how factually incorrect the class managed to be, overheard in his 3rd period study hall which directly followed Bruce’s 2nd period history class.  Bruce would probably never skip class, even study hall, which was why Vance stuck around for it even though it would’ve been a great period to skip.  

Today, Bruce had been scowling through his homework, muttering up a storm and writing rude comments in the margins of his textbook—he’d never struck Vance as the type to vandalize school supplies, but maybe the history textbook was a special case.  And Vance’s gaze had been stuck on Bruce ever since he walked into the classroom, legs on full display in a pair of tiny shorts.  

The little ball fell through the bottom, and the machine went through its flashing and its “you lose” sounds, and Vance groaned in disappointment.  Of course it would be Bruce Yamada to distract him from his game while he wasn’t even physically present.

He walked past the baseball field after school everyday.  There wasn’t official practice going on, but there was Bruce, in that tiny pair of shorts he could’ve never worn for a regular team practice of running, batting as the little Blake kid pitched to him.  Vance had side-eyed enough of Bruce’s practices to notice the kid’s skill, which explained well enough why Bruce had apparently taken him under his wing.  Robin Arellano, who Vance had spotted in enough fights to recognize anywhere, kept watch from the outfield.  He was the first one to notice Vance.

He lifted his chin to get a better view, probably assessing the threat of Vance Hopper, and after a moment he looked back at the game, though Vance had no trouble believing he was still peripherally aware of him.  Kids like them had to have their wits about them.  

Just then, Bruce smacked a ball far, far out of the diamond.  He let out a whoop of excitement, and all three of the other boys reflexively smiled at the sound.  He pointed an accusatory finger at Finney and shouted, “Don’t think I couldn’t tell you went easy on me Finn!”

The boy in question made an impossibly innocent face.  “I would never waste the last ball like that,” he insisted, but then his face broke into a broad grin.  Vance was sure he’d never seen the boy this relaxed, though Bruce had that effect on a lot of people.

Robin jumped up and joined the two of them.  “Yeah, Bruce, Finn’s arm is mint, after all.”  This sounded like a quote, probably from Bruce, himself.  

When Finney turned his smile to Robin in full, unrelenting force, Vance thought to himself, Maybe not just Bruce’s effect, this time.

Robin blushed and turned around quickly to acknowledge Vance’s presence.  “So what are you doing here, Hopper?”  

Finney quirked an eyebrow at him, but Bruce jumped when he finally noticed him.  Vance spared a curious look at the pitcher, but then he focused in on Robin.  “Can’t I walk home, kid?”

At this, both of the younger kids gave him matching deadpan looks as if they could totally see straight through his bullshit, which was incredibly disrespectful of them in his honest opinion.  Bruce didn’t seem to catch on to whatever unspoken flare system was going on between Robin, Finney, and Vance, or at least he wasn’t trying to figure out what was up.  He just held out a hand to Vance in a clear signal to shake it.  “You’re in my study hall, right?  I’m Bruce Yamada!”

Behind Bruce, Vance could see the boys making faces at each other, but he resolved to keep his expression flat.  “Vance Hopper,” he replied.

He knew Bruce’s name.  He had known Bruce’s name.  Bruce probably already knew his name, what with his reputation and this town’s proclivity for gossip, although maybe Bruce Yamada was completely above such petty things as small town smalltalk.

His rambling thoughts distracted him from the task at hand–shaking Bruce’s hand–and he remembered to do so far too late for it to be any natural exchange, but Bruce didn’t treat the belated act as if it’s out of place.  The boys snickered noisily.  Vance wondered if his reputation had ever counted for anything in the face of Bruce Yamada’s…face.

When Vance didn’t say anything else, Bruce rolled his eyes.  “We should sit together at study hall tomorrow.”  

“Uh,” his words stuck together in his throat, and he felt his eyes bug out of his head, “yeah, sure, I guess we could–”

“Great!  I’ll see you tomorrow, then!”

Vance nodded dumbly and turned away from the field.  The younger boys were laughing raucously at that point, and he could still hear them even as he turned away from the baseball field, along with the faint overtone of Bruce scolding them.  Kids these days.

The next day, Bruce was wearing a pair of jeans–a step up for Vance’s attention span–and sat right next to Vance in the library they had study hall in.  He whispered to Vance about how he was finishing his history homework because that was the class he had before this, and Vance worked up the courage to respond with, “Yeah, it always sounds like you hate that class.”

Bruce got a sly look on his face.  “And how did you get that idea?”

Caught and unwilling to back down, Vance summoned up a bravado he did not feel.  “I just hear you going at it every study hall, you know?”

“Sounds like you’ve got a good ear.”

Vance huffed like some long-suffering grandfather.  “This is fun for you, isn’t it?”

“You tell me,” he prodded, “sounds like you know me better than I do.”

Vance scowled(and definitely didn’t pout).  “Are you going somewhere with this?” 

“I don’t know, what if I am?”  Bruce had his easy, wide smile on, the one that Vance always had to cut himself off from like it was a drug he could get hooked on, and Vance so badly wanted him to be genuine.  

He continued on without giving Vance a chance to answer.  “Are you going to the arcade after this?  You should bring me along.  I suck at pinball.  I could totally learn a thing or two from you.  And maybe you could watch me at practice and then I could help you with all the history homework you’ve been missing.”  

Vance was lost for words, hopelessly nodding along at every new clause.

“Cool,” Bruce confirmed, and then he started his history homework.

Robin and Finney had a riot that afternoon when they saw Vance in the bleachers.