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1.
“My friends didn’t want me to come to this tonight,” Nasir called over the music, bumping his shoulder against Agron’s. They were both sitting on the second floor landing of the Sigma Zeta house, separated from the first floor only by a railing that let them look over onto the crowd of people that had piled in and were dancing and drinking and showing off their Halloween costumes.
“No?” Agron replied back, brow furrowed in that way that meant he was distressed but that he wasn’t sure how to express that without being a giant bag of dicks. Nasir appreciated the effort, but he liked how Agron was a giant bag of dicks sometimes. It was refreshingly honest. “Why not?”
Nasir shrugged, not even sure why he’d brought it up. Three weeks into “officially dating” Agron meant he still had no idea what the fuck he was doing half the time – fortunately, Agron didn’t seem to notice. “Y’know, the stereotypical shit, how shitty the beer and the costumes and the people were gonna be.”
Agron’s neck went red in that way that Nasir knew meant that he was embarrassed. “You don’t have to stay,” he said gruffly, eyes focused on the cup in his hand. “If it’s that shitty.”
Nasir swore at himself in his head even as he scooted closer to Agron, forcing himself in under Agron’s arm to press close to his side. “That’s what they thought,” Nasir corrected quietly. “I don’t think that.” He glanced down at his cup. “Well, at least not about the costumes and the people.” Agron snorted a laugh and Nasir was pleased to feel a kiss pressed to his temple, a silent signal of thanks. “I have to admit though,” Nasir continued a moment later, “This is not as skeevy as I thought it would be, as far as costumes go. I expected way more togas and dick jokes and culturally insensitive shit.”
“Nah,” Agron said dismissively. “Spartacus hates that shit so much. One of the frats last year did some blackface bullshit at the annual talent show thing and he got their charter revoked for being racist dicks.”
“No fucking Native American headdresses!” they heard bellowed from the first floor, unmistakably Crixus answering the door. “Go fucking change or be a shitty human somewhere else!”
Nasir smiled. “Cool,” he said simply, and leant his head on Agron’s shoulder, enjoying the shitty beer and not-at-all shitty company.
2.
“Your boyfriend’s busy today,” Chadara said as she sat down across from Nasir at their favorite table in the student center coffeeshop.
Nasir peered at her from over his massive cup of coffee, nose wrinkling unattractively. “Are you stalking him or something? Or me?”
Chadara gave him a Look that would have made any other man want to crawl under the table and never come out again – Nasir simply stared back her, sipping idly at his coffee. “Don’t be stupid,” she said dismissively, tossing her gorgeous hair over one shoulder – Nasir distractedly considered what effect him tossing his hair over his shoulder like that might do to Agron before he was startled back into reality by Chadara snapping her fingers in his face. “I swear to god, you’re like a lemming or something. Conversation, Nasir, we’re having one.”
“Are we? I thought you were just saying things to me and I was supposed to nod and hum at the appropriate times like I usually do,” he said, smiling charmingly and squawking when it got him pinched. “Fuck, your nails are long,” he said, distressed and looking at the red mark on his arm.
“Focus Nasir, your boyfriend is busy because it’s the frats’ annual service day. All of the houses are doing something to raise money for different charities. It happens every year. Ringing any bells yet?”
Nasir frowned. “Not really? But why didn’t Agron tell me?”
“Probably because it’s all bullshit,” Chadara said loftily, gesturing with her latte for emphasis. “The frats just get drunk and sit around without their shirts on, pretending like they’re washing cars or whatever, but they just end up donating their daddy’s money to whatever fund it is. They don’t actually do any work and they don’t actually care about helping people.” Nasir frowned. That sounded likely for a lot of the frat boys he’d known, but he couldn’t see Agron and Duro doing anything like that. They certainly hadn’t come from money, and more than once Nasir had seen Agron buy coffee for some of the homeless people who lived around campus, “just because,” he’d said, whenever asked.
Not that that meant he was necessarily inclined to fundraise with his frat if they could party instead, a voice in Nasir’s mind said, and he sighed and shrugged. “Maybe,” he said, pulling out his phone as it buzzed, his mind casting around for something to do today that wasn’t hang out with Agron.
do me a big favor pls? i left 2 cases of water in my truck parked outside the sigz house. i’ll txt u the address where i am & can u drive it over here?
Nasir stared at the text from Agron. His phone buzzed again a second later.
i kno u hate driving the truck but we’re almost out of water. its not far like 20 min drive
“Boyfriend duty calls,” Nasir said, waggling his phone at Chadara, who read the texts with a raised eyebrow. Nasir shot off a confirmation text and took one last big gulp of coffee.
“Sounds like they’re hard at work doing something,” Chadara said idly. “Or, you know, drinking hard and doing nothing and they need the water to hydrate.”
“Your optimism is what I love most about you,” Nasir said, standing and stooping to press a kiss to Chadara’s cheek. “I’ll see you later.”
“I’m drinking the rest of your coffee,” she called after him, and he waved.
A ten-minute walk later, he was at the Sigma Zeta house. Frat Row was in full swing, with most of the houses running bake sales or car washes on their front yards, Nasir having to dodge half-naked frat boys trying to spray each other with hoses across the street. He made it to Agron’s truck mostly dry and having stopped to allow Saxa to sell him a cupcake for the sake of Theta Kap. She seemed more concerned with eating the goods than selling anything, but as most of the boys seemed distracted by the same thing, Nasir didn’t try to point it out.
His GPS directed him easily to the address, which seemed to be in a stretch of row houses in a neighborhood Nasir had never ventured into before. There was a block party happening halfway down the street and Nasir inched forward in Agron’s green tank of a truck, trying to see if he recognized any faces in the crowd of people dancing and eating and bustling back and forth, carrying boxes and furniture and power tools. He finally stopped as he reached a traffic barrier and frowned, peering into the crowd before him.
“You one of the Sigma boys?” a voice asked from the driver’s side window and Nasir craned his neck out to see an older black woman, leaning on one of the barriers blocking the street off from traffic.
“Yeah,” he answered a little belatedly, and the woman eyed him suspiciously. “I’m looking for Agron? He said they needed more water and I have-”
“Oh, Agron!” the woman brightened suddenly, smiling wide, “What a sweetheart, he’s in the second house down on that side of the street,” she gestured. “You can leave your car right here, honey, just park it. No one’s coming this way today.” Nasir did as he was told, hauling one of the cases of water onto his shoulder and starting off past the barriers, into the mass of people.
Once inside, Nasir could tell that there seemed to be two projects happening at once – one was a massive cook-out that the entire neighborhood seemed to have turned out for. There were lots of tiny, screeching children running around and grandmommas sitting in rocking chairs on porches fanning themselves and lots and lots of food. The other project seemed to be construction work – three houses beside one another were covered in tarps and ladders and had people crawling all over them, fixing roofs, reframing walls, replacing windows – the whole nine yards.
It was there Nasir spotted a few bodies he recognized. “Delivery for SigZ!” he called up at the house, spotting Agron standing confidently up on a roof, toolbelt slung low on his hips and a hardhat settled atop his head.
Agron glanced down from the second floor and beamed, waving. “Hey beautiful!” he shouted back, “I’ll be down in a sec!” Nasir had to look away as Agron clambered across the half finished roof with little hesitation, sliding down the ladder with little care for his own neck. A second later, Agron was pressed up against Nasir, kissing him briefly and taking the load of water off his shoulder.
“Donar, water!” Agron called up at the third house and half a second after, Donar descended upon them gleefully, snatching the case of water from Agron and handing it off to Lugo.
“The other one’s in Agron’s truck, parked by the barrier,” Nasir said, gesturing, and Donar saluted and trotted away quickly, followed by an intent looking Auctus.
“They’re pretty thirsty,” Agron said simply, tugging Nasir towards one of the stoops of the row houses they were working on. “We’ve been working all day.”
“Agron,” Nasir said slowly, staring up at Barca using a nailgun to secure drywall into place and at Crixus shouldering a stack of two by fours and heading into one of the houses. “What the hell are you guys doing?”
Agron looked confused. “It’s our service day?” he said, sounding uncertain.
“I know that,” Nasir said, huffing, “I had to wander past three slip-n-slides and a cupcake eating contest to get your truck. What I meant was, why are you guys here and everyone else back on Frat Row?” Agron’s expression cleared.
“Those assholes never do anything productive,” he complained. “Spartacus realized that we all have some sort of background in construction, or at least, we could be taught to use a power tool without killing anyone, so we decided our service day would be helping people build or rebuild houses and shit.” He gestured at the three houses. “There was a fire a few weeks ago in the neighborhood and it spread over these houses and some others on the next block. We decided we’d offer our services to the owners and they said yes, so we’re just here fixing some shit. The block party sort of happened kind of as an afterthought.”
Nasir stared at Agron, who looked exhausted and sweaty and smelled horrible and had the worst helmet hair he’d ever seen on a person, and realized he’d never been more attracted to a human being in his lifetime.
“That’s pretty great of you guys,” Nasir said instead, scooting a little closer, letting someone pass them by carrying a belt sander.
Agron flushed and ruffled his sweaty, disgusting hair until it looked a little less matted to his forehead. “It’s just whatever,” he said quietly, but grinned when Nasir pressed a kiss to his cheek.
“You’re just whatever,” Nasir replied, grinning. “Now, go get me a hard hat and a nail gun. You won’t get me up on that roof, but I can definitely lay some drywall.”
3.
When it happens, Nasir hardly has any time to react to the news before Spartacus is bellowing, “Out, everybody fucking out, right now!” Nasir isn’t surprised about how quickly the partiers follow orders, not with Spartacus standing at the top of the stairs, arms crossed and face set in a grim line. What he is surprised about is how quickly and neatly the rest of the SigZ brothers fall in line, how easily they herd the drunken, confused coeds out the door, how firm they are with the witnesses in the kitchen, not letting them leave with the others. Nasir notices all of that in about three seconds, because soon his attention is taken up again by the way his boyfriend is slumped against his legs, holding a bag of frozen peas to his jaw and looking more than a little dazed.
Agron is coherent enough to see where Nasir’s gaze goes, and pulls the peas away to speak, his words slurred by a split lip but still steady. “Spartacus had us trained,” he says quietly. “If anything like this ever happened in our house, he told us how it was going to go down, so we could get the police here, so that we could make sure to charge whoever it was. That we could make sure there was no way the campus police could fuck it up like they always do.”
Agron looks tired. “I always thought it’d never happen at Sigma,” he admitted softly. “That’s just some fucking bullshit.” Nasir knows he’s thinking of his little sisters at home, thinking about how long this night has felt, thinking about how much he loves Naevia, how much they all love Naevia, how fucking shitty this whole thing is.
Sedullus is pinned to the ground by Barca and Auctus and Donar, none of them letting up even as he shouts and fights back and tries to buck them off. They are all stone faced and silent.
Naevia is upstairs with Crixus, not willing to come near any of the other brothers, not willing to speak to anyone yet.
No one is smiling.
“The police will be here in a minute,” Spartacus says as he re-enters the kitchen, eyes glancing around the room, barely settling on Sedullus before moving on to Agron, who is sitting on the kitchen floor, his back to the chair Nasir is sitting on, using one of Nasir’s legs as a head rest. “How’re you feeling?” he asks Agron, who'd thrown himself on top of Sedullus the second he'd realized what was going on. There weren't many guys taller and wider than Agron, Nasir thinks, but Sedullus had had him beat by about fifty pounds and four inches.
“Better than Naevia,” Agron spits, his narrowed and murderous eyes settling on Sedullus who doesn’t hear the words over his own hoarse shouting and swearing.
Spartacus doesn’t say anything. He just nods and moves towards the few who had been in the kitchen when Sedullus attacked Naevia.
“Please don’t speak to one another,” Spartacus says, his voice soft but firm. “I don’t want your stories getting mixed up, I don’t want you influencing each other. I trust all of you to tell the truth of what happened here to the cops when they show up.”
“Yeah, you just want us to fucking lie for your stupid fucking brother,” one of the girls snaps and Spartacus looks pained.
“No,” he says roughly, forcefully enough that the girl looks taken aback and Spartacus frowns. “I don’t mean to be so abrupt, but no, absolutely not. Do not protect him, do not lie and say what happened here didn’t happen.” Spartacus may be speaking to a room full of mostly drunk, partially terrified college students, but Nasir feels as if he is delivering his message to a crowd of cheering spectators. “Sigma Zeta will not stand for what happened here tonight, I will not stand for what happened here tonight. Know that.” The girl nods slowly and Spartacus lets out a long breath.
It is only a moment later when Nasir suddenly feels his chest expand that he realizes he was holding his breath. “You’ve got a good president,” he murmurs, leaning forward to rest his cheek on the top of Agron’s head, his hands massaging gently at Agron’s shoulders.
“Yeah,” Agron says firmly. “We really do.”
4.
Nasir had known that it was Pledge Night for Sigma Zeta and, therefore, had not expected to see Agron for at least thirty six hours, as the inevitable hangover would keep him from popping up at Nasir’s work like he usually did on Sunday mornings. Agron had said very little about the activities of SigZ’s Pledge Night, nor said anything very comforting about the amount of danger involved.
Nasir just genuinely hoped no one died.
“We’re not idiots, Nasir,” Agron had said grouchily, crossing his arms in petulance. Nasir had glanced pointedly over at Barca, Auctus and Duro, who were balancing beer bottles on their chins and trying to kick each other over while simultaneously keeping theirs stable. Agron refused to meet his eyes for a while after that.
But that meant he certainly wasn’t expecting to find his boyfriend standing on his apartment stoop with a black eye, held up by his brother who was also looking a little worse for wear.
“What the fucking fuck,” Nasir heard himself say, but he felt it was appropriate considering it was nearly three in the morning and his boyfriend looked like he’d been mugged. “Duro, what the fuck happened?” he demanded, even as he herded them both inside and towards the elevator.
“Alpha Epsilon,” Duro grunted, as they tried to keep a bleary Agron from hitting his head on the top of the elevator like he always did. “We crashed their hazing rituals this year and-”
“Wait, I thought tonight was your Pledge Night?”
“It is,” Duro said, propping Agron up against the wall and resting his hands on his knees. “Shit, I forget how heavy this asshole is.”
“Duro,” Nasir said warningly and Duro waved him off.
“I know, I know. Hold on.” Duro cracked his knuckles in the most disgusting fashion Nasir had ever seen before taking a deep breath. “Our Pledge Night is always us fucking up someone else’s Pledge Night,” Duro said, like this made perfect sense. “Most of the frats just do the drinking bullshit, normal but shitty. They’re not dumb enough to hurt anyone or get anyone hurt. But some of them, like Alpha Ep and Delta Kap, it’s like every year they have to send one kid to the emergency room, or they need lawyers to cover up some shitty thing they did.”
“Let me guess,” Nasir said, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing, “Spartacus doesn’t like that.” Nasir was beginning to sense a pattern of behavior for this frat and the injustices Spartacus saw in the world. He approved obviously, but he wished less of the plans resulted in his boyfriend getting his ass kicked.
“Got it in one,” Duro said, grinning tiredly. “Last year was my pledge year and we stormed Delta Kap, which was good because they were planning on defacing the women’s center. They had this really fucked up ‘No Means Yes’ sign and everything.” Nasir made a mock vomiting noise. “Yeah, for fucking real. Anyway, this year Spartacus heard that Alpha Ep was doing some really dumb sounding drinking thing that seemed like it was gonna kill someone, so we brought our baby SigZ brothers along to crash the party.”
They paused the story as the elevator came to a halt on the sixth floor, both of them needing their breath to haul Agron out of the elevator and across the hall into Nasir’s apartment. Agron fought them a little when they tried to bring him into the living room, and so Nasir gave up and let him collapse onto his bed. Duro flopped down next to him and Nasir perched up by his headboard, carefully checking Agron’s bruise and coherence.
“M’fine, N’sir,” Agron slurred a little, yawning. “Just a little dizzy and a little drunk and a lot tired.”
“You tell me the second you feel any worse,” Nasir warned him and his boyfriend nodded obediently. “Good,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to the skin below Agron’s bruise before returning his focus to Duro. “Now, finish the story.”
Duro huffed a laugh into Nasir’s comforter before hauling himself onto his back with a groan. “Fuck, okay, so we storm the Alpha Ep house, and just like we thought, they have all this fucked up shit going on, pledges are vomiting everywhere, they’re all tied together like dogs and drinking shots out of dog bowls and like-” Duro shuddered, “It’s just some really, really fucked up shit. Other stuff too, but like.” He stopped and Nasir didn’t press. Duro looked sincerely distressed.
Without even opening his eyes, Agron reached over to grab Duro’s forearm, squeezing hard. Duro squeezed back, letting out a breath. “Anyway,” he continued a moment later, his voice a little stronger, “We storm in and scare the fuck out of everyone and basically Crixus and Lugo and me bodily haul the pledges out of the house and figure out who needs to go the hospital and who just needs to go home, but Spartacus and Agron and Barca and the pledges are fucking shit up inside, trying to tie all the Alpha Ep brothers together with the rope they’d used on their pledges.” Agron managed a dull chuckle and Nasir flicked him on the ear. “And apparently one of the pledges gets the genius fucking idea to go for their alcohol store-”
“Pietros,” Agron added in gruffly, “A kid named Pietros, he’s fucking awesome.”
“Anyway, he jumps the bar set up they have and starts cracking bottles, but apparently that sets off the Alpha Ep guys who Spartacus hasn’t managed to round up and he goes hard for Pietros, who’s this tiny little guy.”
“And that sets off Barca, who is fucking ass over ears for this kid,” Agron added in, “Which means it’s just me and Spartacus and some freshmen trying to wrestle a bunch of dudes together and so one of them gets a shot off at me, which feels like it knocks my head clean off my shoulders. And then they all flip out because they hear a police siren outside, so they fucking run. Of course it was just this asshole,” Agron gestured at Duro, “Hooking up his phone to the speaker we left outside.” Duro beamed and Nasir couldn’t help but laugh.
“So they all ran and Agron’s rolling around like someone stabbed him and Pietros and Barca are making out in a puddle of broken vodka bottles and Spartacus looks fucking pleased as punch, and Crixus has to literally carry two passed out dudes to the health center and Lugo has to walk two belligerent and ungrateful assholes home - and then we came here,” Duro finished, gesturing dramatically before resting a hand on Agron’s chest, patting comfortingly.
There was silence for a second and Agron looked up at Nasir, a little worried that he might be angrier than first believed. Nasir heaved a big sigh and settled a cool hand against Agron’s forehead. “And all the pledges are okay? Alpha Ep and yours?” he asked quietly, finally, and Duro nodded.
“Good, then that’s all I need to know.” Nasir said firmly and curled up against Agron’s side. “Feel free to sleep there, Duro, I don’t plan on moving.” Agron huffed a laugh, but wrapped an arm around his brother and his boyfriend, both of them stretching out along the bed. “One more black eye though, Agron,” Nasir muttered into Agron’s chest, the sound loud in the silence of the room, “I swear to god we’re gonna have a problem.”
“Agreed,” Duro said, snorting as Agron flung out a hand to hit him in the head. “Nice try bro. Now, go the fuck to sleep.”
5.
When it finally, finally happens, Nasir doesn’t think he can be blamed for thinking, oh, so tonight’s the night. This is how it happens to me. Nasir has honestly been expecting something like this since the first time his brother sat him down and told him that there would be people out there who wouldn’t like Nasir – and there wouldn’t be anything he could do about it.
He was nine.
Being brown and gay has never been a particularly easy combination – when traveling through small towns, when flying, when going through security at concerts, when flagging down cabs, when interviewing for jobs, at parties, in clubs, walking down the street, talking to girls, talking to boys, working out, when going out with Agron.
But when he’s finally attacked, when he looks up one evening and realizes he’s walked himself right into three angry looking guys, their breath smelling of shitty beer and cheap vodka, something in their eyes saying you look different than us and we’re scared of what that might mean,Nasir realizes that he doesn’t even know which part of him they hate.
“Faggot,” one hisses a split second later, and Nasir wonders if it makes sense to find a little satisfaction in having that question answered, or if the only things that should be running through his brain are run, scream, fight - remember their faces.
They say other things to him that Nasir doesn’t care to remember, or that are so uninspired that he literally can’t tell if he actually heard them or if he’s remembering an episode of Degrassi. Nasir quietly and calmly tells them to leave him alone, remembers backing up, remembers digging a hand into his bag for a can of pepper spray that’s laying on his dresser right now, remembers thinking what now, what next. He remembers getting shoved, getting kicked several times in the stomach, remembers covering his head in a last ditch effort not to be another headline for his mother to cry over.
And then he remembers hearing Barca’s voice.
“Get the fuck off him,” comes a snarl from above and then suddenly two of the three bodies are torn away, the third pausing to shout something incoherent before he too is slammed to the ground. Nasir remembers panicking, remembers trying to drag himself away in confusion and pain, remembers suddenly, quietly, Pietros appearing at his shoulder, speaking softly but quickly.
“You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.” Pietros seems to be repeating the words but Nasir wants to ask how Pietros knows that, how he could be okay when those three men are still alive, still nearby – but a second later, Nasir watches as Barca and Auctus and Duro descend like the hands of a god Nasir thinks might not like him very much and proceed to beat the shit out of the three men.
“Enough,” Pietros calls a moment later. A long moment later. “We have to get Nasir to the hospital.” Nasir remembers that Duro is the first to break away at those words, to cross to Nasir’s side, to wrap a gentle hand around Nasir’s wrist, to help him off the ground.
“What hurts?” Nasir remembers him asking, but he doesn’t remember answering. Nothing, maybe. Or everything.
“We’ll take my car to the hospital,” Auctus says quietly, a swipe of blood across his cheek. “Duro will call Agron to meet us there, okay?” Barca’s glasses are a little askew, but he looks unharmed, except for the bloody knuckles he cradles in his lap as they all clamber into the car.
Nasir remembers only part of the car ride there, remembers his head aching something fierce, remembers Pietros holding his hand almost too tight, remembers being grateful for that tiny bite of pain to distract from the ribs that have a stranglehold around his lungs, remembers feeling grounded because of it. Nasir remembers mostly staring at the back of the passenger seat in front of him, watching Barca’s braids drape over the headrest, remembers spotting a worn black patch sewn into the shoulder of the seat. Σ Z. Sigma Zeta.
“My first hospital ride with you guys,” Nasir remembers saying quietly, tracing his fingers over the stitched letters. “Does this make me an official SigZ?” He remembers wanting it to be a joke but he knows his tone is flat, his mind twisting and turning in too many directions for anything to be funny. He remembers the quiet of the car as they pause at a red light, remembers Auctus’ fingers tapping impatiently at the wheel, remembers feeling Duro’s rumbling chest at his shoulder.
“Nasir,” Barca says seriously, slowly, turning around to stare him straight in the eyes. “You’ve been a brother for awhile.”
Nasir remembers the way Duro wraps his arm around his shoulder and the way Pietros leans his head against Nasir’s and the way Barca doesn’t turn around once to break his gaze from him and the way Auctus constantly checks on him in the rearview mirror. He remembers all that and he remembers thinking, I always wanted more brothers.
+ 1.
“I hate that fucker so much,” Agron growled, hand tightening around his beer bottle to the point that Duro was afraid it might shatter at any moment. “Why the fuck is he here? Who the fuck invited him?”
“He’s a Theta Kap, right?” Duro pointed out slowly. “Agron, this is literally a joint fucking party for Sigma and Theta. Why the fuck wouldn’t he be here?”
“Because he’s a dick and we should fucking know better,” Agron gritted out. “Can’t I kick him out? On account of being a fucking dick?”
Duro heaved a sigh, looking down into his cup mournfully. “I’m not drunk enough to deal with your bullshit right now. Where’s your boyfriend?” He briefly entertained himself with watching the look on Agron’s face go from immediately cheered (at the thought of Nasir) to suddenly frustrated (at the lack of Nasir in the current vicinity) back to pointlessly furious.
“Work,” he grumbled. “Again.”
“Boy’s got to eat,” Duro pointed out and Agron gave him a look that so clearly said if I wanted rational explanations I would have asked and since I never want rational explanations, don’t ever offer them.
To be fair, Duro might have been reading into that one.
“He’ll be by after though, right?” Duro asked, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt. Introducing Nasir to Agron had been one of Duro’s finest moments, if he said so himself, so much to the point that Duro was pretty sure he was no longer willing to put up with his brother if Nasir wasn’t around to make him less fucking annoying – except when music or movies were involved. Nasir was cool but damn, that kid had the worst taste in everything. Including boyfriends. “I won’t have to put up with you bitching about Castus alone, right?”
Agron growled at him. “I told Nasir not to come,” he said finally, a moment later, looking furious – though whether it was at himself for being such a fucking idiot or whether it was because Duro had dared to mention Castus’ name, he didn’t know.
“Why the fuck would you-” Duro asked, genuinely amazed by his brother’s stupidity. Also, at the sign of possible personal growth as an individual? Like, what the fuck? Was Agron trying to spend less time with his boyfriend? Was-
“Because of that fucking dickwad Castus,” Agron snapped, “He hit on Nasir the last time he was here and I couldn’t fucking kick his ass because we were at the Theta house and it would’ve started a free for all. It’s why we’re doing this fucking joint party, to smooth shit over.”
“You mean you actually wanted to commit a violent act but thought better of it because of its consequences?” Duro was getting really worried now – fuck, who was this pod person and where was his irresponsible asshole of a big brother?
“I’m not that bad,” Agron snapped back hotly, but at Duro’s raised eyebrow he subsided a little. “Nasir may have said something,” he muttered. “Spartacus too. And I think Crixus might have put me in a headlock, I dunno, the night gets kind of hazy then.”
“Ah,” Duro nodded sagely. “That sounds way more likely.” He blinked. “Uh, speaking of likely shit, how likely do you think it is that Nasir ignored you telling him to stay away tonight?”
Agron blinked back, looking confused. “Why the fuck would he – he wouldn’t, I told him that there wasn’t anything happening tonight worth coming to, that I’d be over later.”
“Because I’m like ninety-seven percent sure he’s over there getting a drink, from, uh, Castus,” Duro said, pointing over Agron’s shoulder with a sigh, already resigning himself to getting into a fight tonight.
Fuck, he really liked this shirt too.
“That motherfucker,” Agron growled and started across the room, Duro following dutifully. The shit he put up with for his big brother.
-
Nasir wasn’t one to actively seek out reasons to go to the Sigma Zeta house, at least, in the past that had been true. SigZ had grown on him exponentially over the past few months and he generally enjoyed the time he spent there – but knowing that Agron had purposefully tried to get him to stay away tonight for some inexplicable reason, meant that Nasir was a hundred percent more likely to show up.
Which meant that he had walked in the room and discovered that he’d stepped right into some weird frat boy passive aggressive bullshit. “Theta thinks we wanna start shit,” Barca told him as he walked him over to the alcohol, having been the first to spot Nasir entering the house. “So Sparty invited them over for drinks so that we could clear the air through typical ritualistic male posturing shit, like pong and kegstands and shit.” Nasir glanced around the room and made a face. “Yeah,” Barca snorted, “that’s what I said.” Barca glanced across the room and spotted Agron, who hadn’t yet seen Nasir. “Well, your boyfriend’s over there, so I’ll leave you to it.” Nasir saluted him with a half-filled red solo cup, before returning to considering the wares before him. There was more of the typical shitty frat boy beer that Agron drank like water. There was also some hard alcohol, but hardly anything to mix it with. Nasir was considering what he thought might still be in the fridge from the last time he was here, when a hand came down on his shoulder. He turned, assuming it was Agron, only to find himself staring up at Castus.
Castus was gorgeous; Nasir was not going to lie. Gorgeous and charming and a bit of a douchebag in that way that Nasir appreciated most of the time – but considering Nasir was pretty sure there was a piss Agron off undertone to Castus coming over to him, Nasir was less than inclined to humor him just now.
“Can I get you a drink?” Castus asked, grinning and leaning against the table with the alcohol on it. “Something better than what’s already in your cup?”
“I’m good,” Nasir said, waggling his drink. “Thanks though.”
“Well,” Castus said, slipping closer and still grinning, “Maybe we could share? I seem to have lost mine.” Nasir huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes.
“That’s a pathetic line,” he pointed out, tapping Castus on the chest with his cup. “Does that ever actually work on anyone?” Castus attempted an innocent look and Nasir snorted again. “I thought so. Anyway, you know I’m not interested. You’re beating a dead horse here.”
“Interest can be fleeting,” Castus countered, settling a hand on Nasir’s arm, leaning in even closer. “And for someone as beautiful as you,” Castus’s eyes flickered across Nasir’s face and down his chest, and Nasir felt more than a little smug, “I’m sure I could-”
“Don’t fucking touch him,” Agron snapped, suddenly at Nasir’s shoulder, hand clamped down like fucking iron around Castus’ forearm, brushing off Duro’s attempt to stop him.
“Agron,” Nasir said sharply and Agron looked at him, hurt. “Agron, let go.” He did, after a second of hesitation – but that second of hesitation was just enough for Castus to look pretty pleased for himself – and for Nasir to respond with a painful lock grip on the hand wrapped around Nasir’s elbow. With a quick snap of his arm, Nasir had Castus on his knees, the arm that had been touching Nasir wrenched rather painfully up behind his back. Duro crowed like the crowd at an MMA match.
“So, I’m not saying I don’t appreciate you telling me that I’m hot,” Nasir continued conversationally over Duro’s laughter, “Because I’m well aware of that fact, but it’s nice getting outside confirmation some days. This is more to prove a point to my jerkwad boyfriend that I don’t need protecting and that I don’t need his jealous bullshit.” Agron blanched and stared at his toes even as Duro cracked up again. Nasir tried not to enjoy his kicked puppy look more than was appropriate, but it was hard. “But seriously, next time someone tells you they’re not interested because they have a boyfriend, it’s generally a good idea to move on, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Castus said, his voice throaty and low and Nasir rolled his eyes.
“You can stop getting off on this at any time,” Nasir said, huffing a sigh and letting Castus go. He sprung up and whirled around, grinning.
“So what I’m hearing from you is-” Castus started, eyes bright and smile wide.
“No,” Nasir said firmly but not unkindly, pointing across the room. “Go hit on someone else. I’m going to go have sex with my boyfriend.” It was, Nasir reflected, completely unsurprising the way both Agron and Castus perked up at that statement. And the way Duro made a vomiting sound and disappeared back into the crowd, looking pained. “And you’re not invited,” Nasir reminded Castus, who was eyeing Agron’s shoulders with something like pointed admiration. Considering Agron was only wearing a white tank top with the Sigma Zeta letters on it, arms bared beautifully for the whole world to see, Nasir didn’t blame him one bit.
“Well then. ‘Til we meet again, beautiful,” Castus said, bowing gracefully and ridiculously to Nasir, who allowed himself a small smirk, before sauntering back into the crowd. Nasir turned back to Agron, who was staring at him with confusion written in every line of his face. Nasir sighed fondly, incapable of doing much else when it came to Agron.
“C’mon you,” Nasir said, collecting one of Agron’s massive hands in his and tugging on it. “We’re gonna talk.” Agron nodded seriously, still looking confused and a little pissed and Nasir lifted his hand to press a kiss to Agron’s knuckles. “And then we’ll have sex, don’t worry.”
Agron’s expression cleared a little and Nasir let out a little laugh, tugging again at his arm. “But first, we need to deal with your jealousy shit. Because it’s not cute.” At least, not really cute, Nasir amended in his head, watching as Agron shuffled closer to Nasir in order to follow him out of the SigZ house, looking glum but resolute.
A minute later, after they’d shoved their way back through the party and out into the front yard, past the drunken vomiting noises and blazed would-be philosophers lying out on the grass, they tucked themselves around the side of the house where only the SigZ members ever went. Nasir let himself curl against Agron’s side, absorbing his warmth and steadiness. “You know I like you a lot, right?” Nasir asked, pressing his cheek to Agron’s chest and peering up into his face. Agron’s expression was difficult to see because of the dim lighting, but Nasir had to take a moment to just catch his breath at how fucking beautiful he was. The line of his jaw and nose lit by the stars and the streetlamps, his eyes deep and green and ridiculous as all get out.
“Yeah,” Agron said gruffly, ducking his head slightly and scratching at his ear. “But I don’t really know why. So shit like that,” he gestured behind himself, to the house, “Like Castus, who you take classes with and have shit in common with and things to talk about that aren’t sports or my brother or my frat – that shit makes me nervous.” It was the utter, bare honesty in Agron’s tone that kept Nasir from reaching up and flicking at his ear in retribution for being so fucking dumb.
“You are really fucking dumb,” Nasir said instead, mentally wincing at his phrasing. That could’ve been said better. “What I mean is,” he amended, “is that I don’t really care about all that shit Castus and I have in common. What I care about is the fact that you go out of your way to make me happy and do all the little things that make me feel good and laugh and generally be an emotionally healthy human.” Nasir laughed a little self-deprecatingly. “I think we both know I’m not always so good at that.” Agron made a sound that could have been agreement, tucking Nasir further into his arms and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “You’re honest and funny and a really fucking decent guy and you think I’m smart and interesting and that I tell good jokes, which most people disagree with-”
“Puns are fucking hysterical,” Agron defended fiercely, “And yours are really good.” Nasir couldn’t help but laugh, pressing a kiss to the highest point on Agron he could reach without standing on his tip toes – somewhere around his collarbone.
“And you like me a lot, even when I’m being a dick,” Nasir concluded, leaning back from Agron in order to stare him straight in the eye. “And sometimes because I’m being a dick.”
“You,” Agron said solemnly, “are really attractive when you’re verbally castrating assholes.” He tugged Nasir back closer to him, massive hands drifting to settle at the small of his back. “And now I know you’re equally hot when physically beating up assholes.”
“And don’t forget it,” Nasir muttered into his arm. “So, you don’t have any thing to worry about, so I don’t want to have to deal with this jealousy shit anymore. Or at least,” Nasir amended, knowing that that was asking a lot of Agron, “You need to work on it. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Agron promised, and Nasir knew that Agron wouldn’t have agreed if he didn’t mean it. There was something really fucking nice about having a boyfriend who was honest and straightforward and genuine as shit, Nasir thought, sliding his arms up around Agron’s neck to pull him down for a kiss to seal the deal.
That kiss turned into a lot more when Agron decided to do the thing that Nasir said he hated but that he really fucking loved – when Agron slid his hands under Nasir’s ass and lifted him up easily so that Nasir could wrap his legs around Agron’s waist and keep them at the same height.
“I fucking l-love it when you do that,” Nasir admitted in a stutter, not for the first time, mouth dropping open in stunned pleasure as Agron’s teeth started hickey number two at the sensitive skin along Nasir’s jaw and throat.
“I know,” Agron rumbled smugly, pressing a quick kiss against Nasir’s ear before returning to his favorite Nasir-snack. Before long, the hickies turned back into kisses, now deep and languid and slow, Agron shifting to press Nasir against the side of the house, both of them melting into the embrace, hands and hips tangled together. One of Agron’s hands settled firmly on Nasir’s cheek, his thumb brushing gentle teases across the already blooming bruises against his jaw, each touch forcing a hitched breath from between Nasir’s lips. They broke apart for breath only to press even closer a moment later, Nasir licking impatiently back into Agron’s mouth, hands burying themselves in his hair. Agron pulled away from the kiss, gaze dropping to where he had Nasir’s hips cradled against his. He carefully shifted them both so that when he next rolled his hips, Nasir hissed out an involuntary curse and dropped his head back to rest against the siding of the house.
“Fuck, wh-where the fuck’s your truck?” Nasir managed to get out around the moan that was threatening to leave his lips. Agron froze and pulled back to stare Nasir in the eyes, grin blossoming across his face. Nasir sighed, his heart thumping wildly in his chest even as his tone pretended indifference. “Yes, we can finally go have sex in your stupid fucking truck as long as it happens in the next fucking ten seconds.” Well, he tried for indifference at least.
“You,” Agron said, pecking Nasir on the lips, “are the best,” Another kiss to Nasir’s neck as Agron wrapped an arm beneath Nasir’s ass to secure him firmly against him, “fucking boyfriend in the whole,” he pushed off from the side of the SigZ house and started down the long driveway, Nasir attached to the front of him like a barnacle, “fucking world.” Fortunately Agron had only parked halfway down the driveway and had pulled forward until the truck was tucked away in the trees. Even more fortunately, Agron had enough practice dropping the back gate on his crappy old Chevy pick-up with just one hand that he could hold Nasir up and drop it down without pausing in his steady, careful exploration of the spot behind Nasir’s ear that made him groan deep in his chest.
Nasir tried not to find that as attractive as he did.
“Don’t you fucking forget it,” Nasir managed as Agron set him down on the edge of his truck and reached past him for the blankets he kept tucked away. Agron paused, nose almost pressed to Nasir’s cheek, his eyes bright and so fucking green that Nasir couldn’t breathe for a moment.
“Never,” Agron swore, a soft, fond smile crossing his lips before he pressed a gentle kiss to Nasir’s cheek, another promise, one Nasir knew – with utmost certainty and no surprise at all – that he’d keep.