Chapter Text
“And…. Alejandro!”
Noah’s stomach falls. There’s no way. No fucking way.
Of all the names Chris could have pulled out of that bowl, it had to be his. Of course! He’d be the one struck with such luck to be linked to an eel for the foreseeable future.
In front of him sits a dozen other contestants, some already shackled with the inevitable fate Chris has brought upon them all. Some not. Lindsay and DJ, as the last remaining members of Team Victory, had been handcuffed together first. Izzy and Owen were next— which absolutely ruined any of his hopes for the challenge— and then Gwen and Courtney. Whatever.
Yeah, Izzy and Owen were gone, but Tyler, even Duncan, would have been a better outcome than this.
At least he isn’t Cody right now; Worriedly praying for his name to be called while actively having his stalker wrapped around him. No, thank you.
He scowls at Chris from next to him up on stage, vaguely aware of his new partner rising from the stands. Peppy and smooth. Going up the stairs two at a time. Even his walk was annoying.
“I’d rather anyone else.”
A couple of days ago his sentiment might have been different, but not anymore. He’s seen through the thick motor oil. Harold, Bridgette, and Leshawna were too late. All had fallen to his charms and gotten themselves a boat ride home.
Well, not him.
Laughter bubbles loudly, “Yeah right.” Chris’s shit-eating grin only adds to Noah’s growing irritation, “The viewers are going to eat this up.”
Alejandro’s pattering up the second set of stairs, a grin plastered to his face. “Ah! Mi amigo! What gods have shone upon me to be graced with such a lovely partner.”
“Yeah, lovely.” He sticks his arm out as the other pairs before him did, “Just jail me already.”
A chuckle, then the taller man follows in his suit, “So eager.”
He doesn’t reply. A rare occasion, he knows. But it takes all his energy to keep a straight face.
A series of clicks fill the musty air. Then his wrist is enclosed, tight, but not enough it's painful, by one half of a pair of handcuffs.
He spares a glance down at their joined hands. Rubbing up on his wrist bone like that? Yeah, definitely going to piss him off somewhere down the road.
Chris drops the key into a little red sack and places it to the side.
When Noah drops his arms, it’s accompanied by metal clinking. When he starts making his way off the stage; metal clinking. And when Owen claps him on the back with a friendly, “Welcome back!”? Metal fucking clinking.
Fuck America and its prisoner plotline.
“You couldn’t have gotten quieter handcuffs?”
“Nope!”
Noah rolls his eyes and sits as far on the edge of his plastic audience-chair that he dares. His right ass cheek is levitating half off, but the extra couple centimeters of space is worth it.
He and Alejandro's hands hang uselessly between them, the chain trapping them almost stretched to the max.
He can barely contain his glee.
“Cody!” the host interjects.
Chris sticks his arm back into the ragged-looking bowl and spins it slowly, “I wonder who will be with our dear friend Cody.”
“MEEEE!!!”
Owen leans over till his side is pressed against Noah’s, Chris still stirring menacingly on stage, “Looks like we both lucked out. With me and Izzy, and you and Al, we are a shoo-in to win this one! Sure, It would have been so fun to be linked to my best buddy, but this way we have two power teams.”
“Up top!!” Izzy cheers, but doesn’t raise her hand for a high-five.
Noah sighs. It’s true. Owen or Izzy paired up with any of their other teammates, done within 2 hours, and he would bet his chance at a million on that. Duncan has no patience and Tyler is… Tyler.
They lucked out on that for sure. And, as much as he hates to admit it, of the remaining three(Duncan, Tyler, and Alejandro) he got the best choice.
Actually, their team got the best lineup possible.
He just has to be extra careful.
He isn't particularly in the business of throwing. He is going to win this season. Even if it means teaming up with a serial eliminator. Alejandro is the least likely to leave the cuffs for some moronic reason. Or be extraordinarily annoying.
Extraordinarily being the keyword.
Just because Alejandro is his top choice to be tied to does not mean he has to trust him. “How are we to ‘up top’ if there is no hand offering?”
“With our minds.” Izzy whispers.
“Ahh…” Alejandro nods, thoughtfully, as if he understands. “Makes sense.”
He pivots his gaze from the redhead to Noah. His eyes are squinted as if to say, ‘What?’
Noah’s stupid traitor lips twitch at the single blink Alejandro does afterward. Stop. Under all that wit and charm leaves a manipulating womanizer that voted off all your friends.
Despicable.
“Come on Noah! Don’t leave me hanging!”
“The only thing hanging is your last functioning brain cell.”
Alejandro snickers to his left, but quickly covers it with a short cough.
“Boo, you’re no fun.”
“I got you Iz, going in for the mind-five!”
“Smack! Ah yes, that was awesome! You’re really good at high-fives Big-O!”
“Excuse me, can I be done with my stirring, you guys are kindaaa making it hard to properly portray, you know, dramatic tension.”
“JUST PULL MY NAME ALREADY.”
“Please, no.”
“You know what, whatever, since you guys have no respect for the theatrics,” Chris rolls his eyes so hard they disappear for a second, “Sierra, with Cody. Duncan, Tyler. Heather, the bear.”
“WHAT BEAR!?”
“Can we trade?”
“CODY IM COMING!”
The space is utter chaos in seconds.
Cody instantly sprints behind Chris. Sierra, who had hand sprung onto the stage, chases him around the host.
Cody always seems to move his fastest when Sierra is around. He’s practically vibrating with fear. They should return Sierra to whatever looney bin they bought her from.
Heather is marching up the stairs throwing profanities they will 100% have to edit out later, and Duncan and Tyler are… there. They already knew their fate, as the only people Chris is really really really hot had left.
“No trading! That’s not how this works.”
Heather, who finally reached the top, crosses her arms, “And why am I paired with a bear?”
“Ratings.”
“Can’t I just join someone else’s group?”
“I’ll trade you!” Cody offers.
Chris sidesteps, opening a path to Cody for Sierra, and locks them with a frown, “No.”
He drops their key into a little purple bag and moves on to Duncan and Tyler to do the same, only the bag is green.
“Chef, bring out the bear!”
Fake iron bars rise from the west of the stage. Furry feet fumble forward, making the splintering wood creak below them. Everything shakes.
Good thing no one is particularly attached to Heather.
Heather almost falls. “Hello!?”
It’s big. That’s for sure. Almost twice Heather's height. Noah does not envy her right now.
“ Dios Mio ..”
Handcuffs close around both Heather and the bear. A shiver racks through Noah.
Alejandro somehow keeps looking better and better. Not literally. Like, figuratively, metaphorically. He is objectively handsome yes, but, not like— like it’s hard for him to keep growing hotte— better looking, objectively.
He is so not his type. But he makes for intelligent HUMAN company.
A loud horn honks, pulling Noah back to the present. Thank god.
Seven colorful bags drop into a brown box, and the lid shuts behind them. “Heather! Since you’re already up here, why don’t you grab a bag.”
She stalks forward, only to be met with an invisible wall. The Bear. She yanks and yanks. She insults him and yanks one more time. Finally, he gives, grumbling as he follows her.
She reaches in and pulls out a green bag.
“Now what?”
Chris shoves her off stage. “Cody! You’re up!”
Cody and Sierra pull out a red bag.
Each group goes up and walks away with a new little string bag.
Tyler and Duncan grab purple, while Gwen and Courtney get pink. Lindsay and DJ have the ugliest orange Noah has ever seen. Izzy whoops, “I love yellow!!” when she sees her bag.
“Noah… Alejandro! We all know there’s only one bag left but come pull that puppy outta the box for the editors to dramatize later!!”
Noah’s arm is pulled up quickly, Alejandro jumping up much faster than he would rather move. But he does, he moves an extra mile per hour and takes his new place next to Alejandro.
A hand crosses his own path. Heat flushes across Noah’s knuckles and Alejandro flinches ever so slightly, but both yank their hands in opposite directions, pulling the chain taught.
Heart beating irregularly, he continues his path up to the box. It was nothing, nothing. How the hell is this guy’s hand so warm? Noah knows he runs on the cold side, low iron and all that, but fuck. Its lingering heat tickles the back of Noah’s hand.
Alejandro laughs awkwardly next to him as they reach the crate. It was off. Forced. But Noah knew it seemed normal to anyone else watching.
Both go to reach into the bag but freeze. Both retreat. Both return halfway.
Well, now it’s definitely awkward.
Their hands are hovering stupidly in the air for a couple of seconds before Alejandro seizes forward and opens the lid with his unconnected hand, “You pick, I insist. Anything you grab will obviously lead us to victory.”
Noah almost wants to choke on his own spit and die. Quick thinking has never pissed him off before, but, this time, it felt so slimy . The way he was able to perfectly recover and manipulate the situation like that.
“Ah yes, so many choices.” He sticks his hand in and pretends to search around, “Which should I pick.”
“Go with your heart.”
Noah rolls his eyes and pulls out the only bag. Which, if he was paying attention properly, should be blue.
“ Azul! A fine choice. The color of victory!”
“Now that we all have our bags and our cuffs, I can explain the challenge.”
“I thought this was the challenge?” asks Lindsay.
“You have one week to get your key, bring it and yourselves back to this stage, and have our lovely police officer unlock your cuffs!” He gestures over to Chef, who’s had a wardrobe change since he brought out the bear, and continues, “I hope you were paying attention! Each of you holds the key to another group's cuffs.”
Alejandro immediately covers Noah’s hand with his own. It’s heavy and pressing down steadily.
What the hell.
It’s like a furnace in his lap, covering the extent of his hand, leaving only his fingertips to peak out.
He whips his head to the left.
The man under scrutiny does not look away from Chris. Noah flexes his fingers, feeling the soft material of blue fabric he chose just moments before.
He’s hiding the color. Not holding his hand. Good. Smart. Warm.
It’s blue, which means he’s currently in possession of Gwen and Courtney’s key. As nonchalantly as he can muster, he places his hand on a little sliver neither of the boys were already covering.
From the way Courtney is frantically looking around, she doesn’t have a clue where her key is located. Gwen and her haven't stopped… chatting(?) since they got matched.
Maybe arguing is a better word.
Thankfully he noticed that the first group's bag was different from the second. These imbeciles most likely did not. Which gives him a good advantage.
Alejandro noticed too.
Unfortunately, Chris put theirs in a little red bag. Cody and Sierra hold their escape.
A week. He remembers. A week. Hopefully they can get their key far earlier.
“If your cuffs are removed, broken, unlocked, blah, blah, blah, anything at all, before you get here with your key; you are out. Finished. Finito. First pair to unlock their cuffs wins this week's reward and helps save their team from elimination.”
‘Reward’ causes chatter to rise amongst the crowd.
“Team with the most locked cuffs at the end of the week loses.”
“That’s not fair! Team Victory only has one handcuff.”
“And 4 less teammates, it’s fair.” Chris shrugs, “Oh, and to make things interesting; your reward is a state-of-the-line private jet that will take you from challenge to challenge from this point on!”
No more death trap? Comfy places to nap? Alejandro might be worth the ability to sleep for 8 hours straight without turbulence. Might.
“Did I mention the hot tub?”
They are so winning this.
“Your challenge starts…. Now!”
A buzzer rings, shaking the water behind them. Little chips of pebbles scatter down deep rocky cliffs, stopping almost instantaneously once they hit the sand below.
Looking around, he notices there’s still lots of trees, but not the evergreens they’re used to. A city line is also visible on the horizon, across the water.
If Noah had to guess, they were on an island somewhere near California.
Noah takes the moment of chaos to free his hand from its deathly warm blanket and shove their bag into his sweater vest. That’s better.
Why is the voice in his head out of breath?
In the distance, he hears Lindsay ask, “Chris, what color is our key?” but he’s too far to hear the response, already getting dragged by Alejandro away from the coast.
Ugh running.
Why are they even running in the first place? No one’s even chasing them.
“Wow, what a stampede behind us.”
Thankfully, his torture is short-lived and they stop just a couple dozen seconds later. A decent distance has been put between them and the others. He still needs to catch his breath though. Which would be pretty embarrassing if Noah gave a shit about what this dude thought.
“I’m sure you noticed the bags were colored.”
This makes Noah’s eyebrows raise in surprise, even as he heaves and slowly resigns to just sitting on the floor.
Seriously, how is that guy not affected at all? It was like— 60 seconds of non-stop running.
He sits on the grass, hand raised and limp near his head where Alejandro stands. Noah gives him a single affirmative nod.
This challenge already has too much physical activity.
“So we have Courtney and Gwen's key, I know Izzy and Owen have Heather-Bear. Heather-Bear has Tyler and Duncan...” he mutters, “but I was distracted and I am unsure who our key belongs to, nor who Courtney-Gwen are searching for..”
He’s pacing in small steps. Noah’s arm is moving to and fro with his pathing.
“S—” He tries but shakes his head and breathes again.
Fuck lungs, eat faster.
“Cee?”
“Sierra— and Cody.” He exhales, “They have our key. Courtney and Gwen got pink, so—”
“Izzy and Owen! Thank god you are here, normally things like that would not have escaped my sight but…” He looks out towards the never-ending patch of trees, “the bear..” He’s back to making eye contact, ”-was so enrapturing.”
Heather-Bear picked first and had since exited the stage, but Noah doesn’t comment.
Flattery is being laid out awfully thick. He is just using you, he sabotages everyone he is overly friendly with. Don’t let him trick you.
“Need a hand?”
Noah looks at the hand stretched in front of him and feels his stomach flip. Over his dead body. Losing right now is a far more appealing option.
The heat is radiating off his hand in waves. Noah swears he could still feel it even though they weren’t touching. His own hand twitches at the memory.
“And get burned again? I’m good.”
Noah tries to stand on his own, using his second hand to help push him off the ground.
Note; he did not fail, just struggled a small , normal amount.
“Burned?”
“Yeah, your hand is like a freaking oven.”
“And yours is freezing.” He smiles, “Warm and cold, opposites attract, no?”
Something felt wrong and horrible and off, he’s never felt like this. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?"
“That. That fucking nice shit. That flirting shit. I’m not Brigette or Leshawna. I’m not going to fall at your feet from your sweet nothings. It’s not going to work on me, I see you.”
“You see me?”
“Yeah, as you really are.”
“ ¿De verdad? So if I do this,” he steps forward, closer, forcing Noah to take a step back out of fear for his personal space.
But Alejandro places a palm on his lower back, lighting a fire through his layers and stopping his escape. The lack of response is all the words Alejandro needs. His teeth flash the barest amount, It takes all the restraint Noah has left to stop his eyes from darting down to his lips.
“It seems like it’s working.” He drones. “I’d have to be an idiot not to see that.”
Noah glares. This handsome, charismatic, sexy— manipulative chatterbox is not allowed to do this to him. All at once, he feels angry. A deeply rooted irritation rises in his throat, followed by the barest amount of embarrassment. Steady yourself. Why are you letting yourself get worked up?
Outwardly, he composes himself. “I told you, an oven. Ouch. You’re hurting me.”
“I’m so hot it pains you?”
“You and I both know I don’t mean it that way.” Noah steps forward, obligated to look up.
To be fair it’s a pretty cowardly step forward, but it was in the correct direction. Adrenaline isn’t a miracle worker.
Alejandro’s breath is warm on his cheek. Really, his everything is warm against his everything. If he were any closer he would be able to feel the outline of his chest against his.
Something he can only assume is hatred builds in him. It’s too much.
He wants to step back, to pull on his layers tighter and he wants to be left alone to his cold.
“You are an eel.” He seethes quietly, feeling quite vindicated when Alejandro's expression drops. “An eel swimming through motor oil. Thick, slippery, grease. You got my friends voted out. You -”
“Woah!! Noah! I thought you were team E-Scope!”
Despite jumping apart in literal milliseconds, Noah knows from Owens' smile that he saw them. It’s a little mischievous, one side tilted higher than the other, and his eyebrows are nearly at his hairline.
His heart is beating a million times a second. All his blood is moving to power it, leaving him feeling lightheaded and dizzy. He knows vaguely that’s not how that works, but there’s no other explanation for how airy he feels.
And his wrist hurts from the sudden yank. Great.
“Looks like you’re team Alenoah to me.”
Team what-the-fuck-ah? Owen did not combine their names. Right there, in front of him. And make it sound like some vague Hawaiian word.
This is all his fault.
“ Ale ..” Alejandro’s voice is thick, in both accent and pique, before he clears his throat, “-noah.”
“Yeah! Like you and Noah! It’s your name,” she holds up one hand(Alejandro), “and Noah’s name” and the other hand(Noah), dragging Owen with her, “squashed together!”
Hand-Aleandro and Hand-Noah are promptly smashed into each other. An explosive mess of fingers following after.
Owen giggles, mouth opening to add something. Something Noah can only assume is going to make everything worse.
Noah needs this conversation to end. He jumps in before Owen can say his piece. “Great idea, big guy. That can be our team name.”
“Oh Oh!! We need a team name too O’!”
“Izwen, Owizzy, Ozzy!”
“Alenoah and Ozzy! Teaming up to take out the competish. I like it.”
Noah frowns, pitching the bridge of his nose.
Is it really worth it?
=
“I think I see them!” The large man next to Alejandro points off into the forest. He has to squint to see anything. Look back to greasy fingers, and to the trees again. A small speckle of purple hair is peaking over a bush.
“Good eyes, Owen!” he praises, plastering a smile wider than usual onto his face.
“Aw,“ He blushes and giggles, kicking his foot into the dirt, “Thanks, Al!”
He can’t take this anymore. It’s been 4 hours. 4 hours of Al this, Al that. 4 hours of fart jokes.
4 hours of Owen’s laughter; loud, grating, and annoying. At everything. The dude is the definition of too friendly. Truly.
And the pendejo ; his girl friend. Separated on purpose. He saw them kiss. Many times, yes. But nuts-zo has kicked the man in his ‘prized possessions’ even more. She’s boisterous and complicates everything they do with unnecessary steps. He does not understand.
He doesn’t get how two people can have fewer brain cells than he thought possible for one.
He cannot fathom how Noah puts up with them. “And not him,” his brain adds as an afterthought. That is… not how it sounds.
He’s sharp, observant, and the least annoying person Alejandro has come across thus far. The wit of his remarks can also be rather humorous. Somewhere in the past week, the guy had grown on him.
An eel swimming through motor oil. The echo of his words play in his head over and over. And over. Working him up. Rage sears through his veins every time he thinks about it.
He wasn’t planning on someone figuring him out so early in the competition.
Even then, why does he prefer their company to his?
Surely he is more appealing than them. Even with the scheming.
There was that moment in the clearing(That he hopes had no cameras present). When Noah’s breath stopped and they just stared after each other. Brown hair tickled his chin, Alejandro's hand frozen stiff, refusing to move. Chests inches apart, rising and falling irregularly. Noah’s of course, not— not his.
Tricking him; all hope was not lost. He underestimated him. That’s not going to happen again. But, it might not be too late to salvage his reputation.
What he needs is ignorance, and a lot of painful, over-exaggerated, friendship.
“Constable Iztective sees the targets, over. ╗░██╔╝██╔═.”
This is one of the unnecessary steps he was talking about earlier. Maniac claimed she cannot interact in the mission outside of ‘walkie-talkies’.
Her impression of the static cutoff was rather impressive, however.
They had made a plan. Well, Noah and he had made a plan. The group was going to get as close as possible to the couple, without them noticing, gather some info, and wait for a moment to strike.
Which was going to consist of Izzy surprise attacking from above(with Owen in tow apparently), but Alejandro has other plans.
The only reason he’s letting Owen and Izzy tag along is Noah’s ridiculously attractive observance. He can’t let him think he despises the pair as he does. And because Courtney and Gwen have their key.
Perfect bait if they happen to run into the girls.
Sure, anyone could win and save their team from elimination, but he was not getting stuck in that stuffy, on-the-brink-of-death locker, they call a plane. He and Noah were going to win this challenge, then he was getting him booted off the next chance he got.
Noah shuffles from where they are all crouched on the ground, “What are they saying?”
Muffled noise tells him they are saying something. No full words are reaching his ears, only pieces and sounds, “I can’t tell, but if we can hear them, it’s in our best interest that we try to make as little noise as possible.”
“What was that, Al?”
Hostia puta. He should have fucking known—
Noah is tugging Owen further down in an instant, “Get down, dumbass-”
And shut up, He thinks.
“-And shut up-”
Alejandro smiles.
“-They could hear you.”
Thankfully, it doesn’t look like they did. Sierra is still blissfully petting the top of Cody’s head. Like he’s a little perrito . He almost feels bad, but he also almost laughs. It's fitting.
“Oh! Sorry buddy.” Owen whispers.
“Is anyone there? Over. ║╚██╗░██╔.”
“We are right next to you, Izzy.”
She doesn’t reply. He watches Noah roll his eyes.
“This nutjob. . .” he mutters under his breath. Alejandro’s hand is lifted as Noah brings his own toward his face. He clicks an imaginary button and continues, “We’re here.”
His deadpan is wispy and light on the back of his wrist. Alejandro pauses and takes one look at Noah’s face. His eyes gleam in the lowlight, expression fading from ire to neutral. Realization of how close they are pops into his head.
He swallows hard.
Izzy stares at Noah.
“Over.”
“Oh good! I was starting to think I was left behind.” Ugh, he wishes. “Why are we whispering? Over. ██║╚██╗░██╔╝”
“Targets are in sight.” Alejandro says, joining in on the fake radio, “We can hear bits of their conversation, but-“
The redhead reaches across their lineup from the farthest left edge. She’s leaning over Owen’s legs, face neighboring Noah’s, and swiftly grabs at the imaginary ‘talkie. He physically recoils in surprise.
The pale hand is tearing his finger from the button.
Help.
“Cody is sleeping, Sierra is whispering sweet nothings into his ear. Over. ██║╚██╗░██╔╝.”
Alejandro blinks. And he blinks again. Izzy just cut him off over a walkie-talkie. A fake walkie-talkie.
He takes a deep breath through his nose. One million dollars.
How can Izzy hear them from so far? Tell Cody is sleeping?
“Are you sure?” He questions quietly. Then, after a few seconds of silence adds, “Over.”
“Yes, his breaths are even and deep. Over. █╗░██╔╝”
Noah actually looks puzzled. Good to know that this isn’t normal.
“Are you sure that’s not just Owen’s loud mouth-breathing? Over.”
Izzy contemplates a moment and Alejandro actually does roll his eyes.
Of course. These pendejos .
She jumps back from her improv bed and shoves her hand over Owen’s mouth.
He begins to go red, tapping Izzy’s arm impatiently.
She lets him go and he gasps.
“Yeah, I’m sure. Over. █╗░██╔╝”
“Geez Iztective! Warn a guy next time. Over.”
“Owen, you have a nose.”
He laughs, “Oh yeah! Hehe.”
Alejandro tightens his fist and conjures his best laugh.
But this is good. They might be able to just walk up and take it. Though, Sierra is the one woman who seems unaffected by his charms.
He takes no offense, she is too wrapped up in Cody to see anything other than him.
He’s counting on it.
“Small change of plans. Over.”
All three pivot towards him.
Noah’s knee presses against the outside of his thigh. It stays, however shifty Noah looks. Alejandro swallows and wills his eyes not to catch his partners'.
“Who has Sierra and Cody’s key?” he asks first.
“Duncan and Tyler.”
“Good memory, my friend.” He looks to Owen and Izzy, “Me and Noah are going to distract. Pretend to be teamed with those— our other teammates.”
Both nod affirmatively.
“Izz— Izdective. You are going to grab Cody.” Then he remembers who he is talking to, “Over.”
“Oohhh, a kidnapping? Sounds fun. Over. ╗░██╔╝██╔ .”
“What about me? Over.”
“You are going with Izzy.”
“That’s Iztective to you.”
“I thought you couldn’t hear us without the ‘talkie,” Noah says incredulously. “ Over .”
The last line is delivered with a smirk. Alejandro absolutely does not let his eyes flicker down to Noah’s mouth.
They need to get this plan moving. The sooner he’s out of these cuffs the better.
Izzy frowns, “We’ve arrived at the destination captain, Over. ╗░██╔╝██╔ … Okay, will do, over. ╗░██╔╝██╔ . Captain says the mission is a go.”
Thank god.
Everyone rolls out. He watches from afar as Izzy tries to drag Owen into a tree before giving up and burrowing underground. They both disappear.
Alejandro is alone with Noah for the first time in 5 hours.
It’s mostly tense. The metal links in the handcuffs are stretched far, both of their arms lifted from their bodies. No one is really saying anything. Compared to earlier, it’s a breath of fresh air.
Literally.
Owen… released more times than he can count on one hand.
Their earlier conversation takes over his mind. He should say something. Noah cannot ruin this for him.
“ Mi amigo -”
“Still not your ‘amigo’."
“Noah,” he concedes, gently, “I think we have come to a…” Mierda , what was the word?
“Impasse,” he offers.
Alejandro shakes his head. Though, he’s unsure if Noah saw, “No, no.”
“Draw. Stalemate.” He lights up, “Mutual hatred.”
“A misunderstanding.”
“Mm.” Noah says, “I don’t think that’s it.”
“No, it is.”
Since Noah is, above all else, a sarcastic asshole, he responds, “Define misunderstanding.”
Alejandro mimics his earlier smiles, “We are in disagreement from both of us seeing things in the incorrect timing or perspective.”
Noah glances in his direction.
Alejandros’ body is dragged towards the shorter boy, almost thrown into his shoulder.
Noah has his hands in front of him. One face up, and the other miming flipping through a book. His fingertip hits the invisible pages. “Weird, that seems to be the definition for slippery eel too.”
Alejandro takes his hand back. Impatience crawling under his skin. Why is he so stubborn? So smart.
Why can’t they just be friends?
“Cody, what was that?”
He and Noah turn at the same time. There, a couple of trees away, stands Sierra, a limp Cody in her arms. Her hair is flipping back and forth from the force of her looking left to right. The pair immediately sink to the ground. Their bracelets smack into each other, clinking loudly.
Noah’s annoyed-terror expression matches his own.
“Who’s out there?!” Mierda . How could he have been so careless? He’s a Buerromuerto.
Noah gestures behind him with a nod.
Slowly, Alejandro makes some space between them and their key. Crawling as quietly as possible away.
One million dollars , he reminds himself.
They are on their hands and knees in a valley of bushes. Rocks are imprinting into his skin, dirt clinging to the surface. It must have rained recently, he thinks bitterly. The ground is rather damp.
He keeps going.
Noah is only slightly behind him. One palm’s worth. Speaking of palms, theirs keep overlapping.
Each time they graze, something white-hot rises within him, despite how cold Noah actually is at the touch.
How is someone THAT cold?
At one point, their pinkies completely cross. It’s weirdly intimate. Every breath, every rustle of clothing, the small grimace that slips out of the other boy's mouth; he’s hearing each with bated inhales.
“I think we’ve come far enough.” The words come out much breathier than intended.
Noah nods.
They get on their feet behind a tree. Noah is on one side, his hand resting over the bark between them. Alejandros’ is the same, only slightly higher. Metal is hanging between them. Both peer around different sides of the bark.
Sierra is wildly looking under rocks and in bushes in the distance. Cody is laid carefully on the ground with a suspicious lump in his back pocket.
Alejandro would bet money on it being their bag.
“So, uh, time to start the plan.” Noah clears his throat, raising his voice “Where are Duncan and Tyler?”
His acting could use some help, but it’ll work.
“ No sé , Last time I saw our dear teammates they were at the docks with the purple key!”
Sierra perks up, glancing their way.
Darting behind the tree, Alejandro finds that Noah had the same idea. He’s not sure why that’s surprising. It’s the only logical conclusion. Maybe it’s more the fact that Noah is underneath him(it’s not a very wide trunk).
Noah is still looking over his shoulder, his eyelashes touching his eyebrows. His back is pressed against the tree, his arms hanging at his sides. There’s a dust of mud on his cheek and his hair is sticking up randomly.
Connected hands are suspended by their waists, little to nothing stopping them from grazing.
Alejandro shifts his feet.
“Oh yeah! They were talking about how Cody loves….” Noah trails off purposely, his smile full-blown.
It’s strange that Noah hasn’t turned back yet, right? Noah has to be purposely looking away, fully aware of Alejandro as he is him. That’s what he’s beginning to think. He doesn’t care.
He moves his gaze to the bark behind Noah. Slippery eel. Slippery eel. Slippery eel.
But Noah is turning, a wistful smile painting his features, and Alejandro can’t bring himself to look away. Away from the shine of sweat on his temple. Breath completely gone, shoulders relaxed but rising and falling from the force of his breathing.
He doesn’t care.
Fuck.
That stupid mark of dirt extends, a long line from under his eye and across his cheek, and tapers towards the hair that peeks over his ear.
Alejandro doesn’t care.
Brown eyes bore into him for a whole second; wide and baffled. But that’s all they can afford.
“CODY LOVES WHAT?!”
There’s the code word.
Loud footsteps rush towards them.
And more... Way more than he was expecting. ¿Qué mierda?
He spins where he stands. Courtney and Gwen? And Sierra. Mierda.
“Stay right there!”
Mierda.
Run.
It’s now or never.
He grabs Noah’s wrist, despite their jail bracelets, and runs.
“Great. More running.”
Hurry up. He’s running slower than he normally can, a bit of dead weight holding him back. Oh if this were just a solo 1v1 amongst all. He would secure the victory in no time.
Heavy steps grow closer.
Noah is huffing behind him. Strained gasps push through the whistling of the wind.
The girls are going to catch up to them at this rate.
Snarling, he makes the decision before he can stop himself. As he swoops Noah into his arms, he hears a gasp of surprise.
“Dude, what are you doing? Put me down.”
“My a— Noah, there is still much running to do, but I can put you down if that is what you so desire.”
Noah is silent, as if he’s thinking about it. Then, “No, carry on.”
That’s what he thought. Noah, you are so predictable.
They are already moving much faster than before, but he can hear them gaining. Risking a look behind him might ruin whatever gap he does have.
He leans forward, pushing himself to the max.
An arm snakes its way up to his neck. A head on his chest. Noah’s eyes are closed tight. Unconsciously, he tightens his hold under his cargo legs.
“We know you have our key!”
Inevitable. They were bound to figure out process of elimination at some point.
The hand on his neck sinks to his chest. “Wait, wait, wait.” Each wait is accompanied by a pat. “We don’t have your key!” Noah shouts.
Alejandro continues running, “What are you going on about?”
Noah glares, “Just trust me.”
“Yeah right!” Courtney bellows, “There’s no use in lying!”
Noah’s wriggling in his hold, kicking his feet and twisting his upper body away. A leg slips out of his grasp.
“Your wiggling is making it hard to go on.”
“Oh no! Here I was wiggling for fun. That’s the point. Put me down, track star.”
Enough with the nicknames. Al . Eel . Track star. He is Alejandro Burromuerto.
“Fine. If that’s what you want.” He halts, ceremoniously dropping Noah straight after.
“Dickhead.” It was low enough that the interns probably don’t have much work to do to edit it out.
Courtney and Gwen catch up seconds later. Trees surround them. Only eight feet of grass and dirt separating each team. Courtney and Gwen are tense-set across the board, fingers spread, ready to pounce at any moment.
It’s safe to assume Sierra most likely went back for Cody, and then perhaps the purple key.
“Give us our key.”
“Yeah!”
Noah rolls his eyes, rubbing his hip as he gets to his feet. Alejandro almost feels bad for dropping him. But then Noah speaks, reigniting his annoyance, “Are you girls deaf? I said we don’t have it.”
“Come on Noah,” Gwen says, “You don’t seriously think we’re going to fall for that?”
“Well, unless your key is yellow, we have nothing for you.”
“What?” Alejandro says in unison with both Courtney and Gwen.
Noah reaches deep into one of his many, many pockets. Triumphantly, he retrieves a yellow bag, “See, yellow.”
“Oh.”
When had Noah switched out their keys? And how did he not notice? Was he truly thinking that far ahead into the round?
Alejandro is not mentally ready to digest how that makes him feel.
“Well…” Gwen and Courtney exchange a look, “We’ll take that key.”
“Yeah? And let you hand it over to your teammate Sierra? Nice try though.”
They both knew yellow belonged to the lonely team of Lindsay and DJ. Just what was his teammate scheming?
“We have pink if you are up for a trade.”
“Pretty pink?” Noah laughs, “You mean DJ and Lindsays key?”
Ooh. He sees where he’s going with this.
“I’m pretty sure this is Izzy and Owen’s.”
“Yeah, Duncan’s is green.” Of course, they both noticed what color he got. ”So that only leaves Izzy and Owen.”
“What do you say?” Courtney offers.
“We’ll trade you.” Alejandro starts, “But, you’ll owe us.”
“Deal!”
Noah sets the yellow lump on the ground, waiting for their counterpart to do the same.
They do, and both pairs slowly rotate to opposite sides. Gwen is leading Courtney with a pleased smile, who follows, crouched, trying her best to look intimidating. Step by step.
Noah casts a look at Alejandro halfway. For once, he knows exactly what it means.
Noah reaches down and snatches up the pink bag, and not even a second later, Alejandro swoops him back into his arms and takes off.
The girls are running too, he hears their fading footsteps.
Leaves soar past them.
“Noah,” He laughs brightly, “You are brilliant!”
Alejandro’s heart pounded in his chest. A swell of overwhelming thrill took over. They just robbed those poor girls blind. And someone else orchestrated the whole thing.
And they got away with it.
“If you were really grateful of my actions you’d make the ride a bit more smooth.”
“Ha ha! You are hilarious.”
“Wow, what praise will you cheer once you find out the yellow bag was empty too.”
“Oh, Courtney is going to be so coraje. Me gustaría poder ver. Hubiera sido gracios -”
“In English?”
Alejandro hasn't felt such joy in a minute. His cheeks hurt. He didn’t even realize he had rambled off into Spanish.
“Ah,” He huffs, “ Lo siento — I’m sorry— I didn’t notice. It was nothing.”
Noah seems skeptical, but Aleandro just pushes on.
It’s getting dark. Alejandro can barely see, Noah wasn’t kidding about that turbulence- he’s almost tripped three times. And he is a fantastic hurdler, runner, physical activity in general.
The pace is more of a walk now.
He made sure not to take a true path. Unfortunately, that means he has no idea where the other half of their alliance is.
Even if the other two were waiting for them, he has no clue how to get back to their point of origin.
Noah yawns in his arms.
He must be tired, it’s been 14 hours since they last slept. Only a couple of plane-interrupted hours at that.
Realization hits him in full force. This isn’t going to end in one day. They are going to have to sleep at some point; In the forest— still chained together. That’s certainly one way to shake him out of his post-con high.
A weight rests on him, hair brushing against his face. He can’t help himself, “Tired?”
Noah’s eyes fly open, his head holding its own mass once again.
A moment of thought, then, “Yeah.”
Alejandro places his feet on the ground, “Let us find a place to slumber.”
Noah groans.
Lodging is not far, only a couple minutes walk. They find a small grassy cove with boulders for walls and treetops for a ceiling. Noah flops to the ground without a moment's notice.
Alejandro— practically forced to join him— takes his seat adjacent. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s needed to find rest on mother earth.
He removes his boots with his free hand, setting them neatly off to the side.
Noah tries to do the same. One hand clasped on the toe, the other on the heel, he pulls.
Alejandro lets his annoyance through, too tired to keep his mask on for such a truly trivial thing. Must he be included in this affair?
Noah’s hand slips, sending him launching into the soft turf, “Ugh.”
Aannddd he’s given up.
Alejandro snorts.
“If I were any more awake I would smack you up the head for that noise.”
“Is that so?”
“Mhm.”
Alejandro moves to lie down, “I don’t believe you.”
“Why'z that?”
“I mean, snide remark, sure, but I’ve never known you to resort to such lengths as violence.”
Noah makes a non-committal noise.
Struggling a bit against the voice in his head, he settles down, facing his teammate. José, his older brother, is that voice.
Laying with a chico ? What would the rest of the family think?
No other choice presented itself. Surely they would understand.
If Noah were to be facing the other way, his arm would be around him! And it’s simply uncomfortable with their restraints to sleep back to back. Right? They need their rest if they are going to end win this challenge tomorrow.
He closes his eyes.
Sleep does not come easy, even with the gentle in and outs guiding him a couple of inches away.
He’s unsure how long he lays there. Sounds of the leaves rustling in the air, a slight breeze whistling between their small ravine. Black static all he can see.
He shifts slightly. A series of clicks stop him in his tracks.
Being unable to roll freely is troublesome.
As if on queue, soft stirring pries open his eyes.
Slices and rays of waxing-moon light give him the dimmest ability to make out his partner.
Alejandro follows the features of Noah’s face. Closed eyes, lashes dozing against his cheeks, curved nose, full eyebrows. There’s even the beginning of a permanent wrinkle on his forehead. No doubt from all that sarcastic expression. He blinks, unable to look away.
A question finds itself worming its way into the pit of Alejandro's stomach.
He shakes his head, reclosing his eyes. Sleep.
Sleep is good. Great even.
Joder.
“Noah?”
No response. But the others’ breath stops a couple of seconds too long for him not to have heard.
Alejandro doesn’t think he would have had the nerve to ask it anyway.
