Chapter Text
It all started when Tommy was clipped by a bike on his way out of the gym.
Tommy raised his head, fully intent to yell at the guy who did it, but when the kid looked back… Dark eyes shining with joy and freedom like Tommy hadn’t seen in longer than he could ever remember, a pitched laugh leaving his curled lips. Tommy stopped, hand that had been in the process of forming a bird lowering back to his side. He watched as the guy zoomed off, a strange feeling in his hardened heart.
It had been a few weeks since, and he couldn’t get those eyes out of his head, couldn’t stop the almost awed feeling it brought him. He supposed he also might be a little jealous… He was still working on PT for his shoulder when he glanced out the window for probably the twentieth time that day. He’d seen a few cyclists since then, and every time he watched as they went, hoping to see those eyes again.
It never happened.
“Hey, pay attention,” his trainer brought his attention back and he ducked his head, raising his arms before punching out at the bag again. It was stupid, he had things to focus on, work to do. Since he’d lost Sparta he needed to work hard and get back in the game to send money to Pillar. Things had changed, a bit, but his focus was still the same. Keep fighting, keep sending money… and never forget those that were lost. The real heroes.
Tommy was told to take a lunch break, so he reluctantly left; towel draped over his shoulders and sandals strapped to his feet as he walked along the sidewalks, looking around for somewhere quick to eat. The sound of tires screeching to a halt and a loud smashing sound made him tense, his eyes flying right to the scene in time to see a bike flying through the air… without the cyclist.
Instinct taking over, he rushed over; finding a cab with a smashed window and a man on the ground. “Shit,” Tommy cursed, hurriedly kneeling by the man and scanning him. He didn’t get a good look before eyes snapped open.
He knew those eyes. “Where’s my bike?” The kid asked, snapping up and looking around frantically before his eyes landed on a crumpled mess of what used to be a bike. “Shit!” he cursed, standing and rushing over, stumbling and falling against the hood of the cab before falling before his bike. His hands stroked over it, eyes filled with concern.
Tommy was baffled. Kid had just been run the fuck over and he was more worried about his bike?
The kid looked down and both him and Tommy seemed to notice at the same time the large piece of glass sticking out of his arm. “Um. Ow? Yeah, that’s gonna hurt in a bit.” He put his hand on it and Tommy snapped out of his trance.
“Don’t take it out!” he snapped. “If it’s deep enough it could be bad. Call an ambulance,” he demanded, looking up at the cabbie now.
The man looked pale, eyes wide. “He rushed out in front of me! I couldn’t stop-“ The look Tommy gave him shut the man right up. He gulped and pulled out his phone, dialing 9-1-1 as fast as his shaky hands would let him.
Tommy turned his attention back to the kid, who was petting over the broken frame, mumbling apologies and cursing. “It’s just a bike, kid.” Tommy reminded him, walking over. “Guy’s insurance should pay for a new one in no time. RIGHT?” he snapped at the cabbie who shook his head sharply, looking at Tommy like he was about to bust his face in. Which to be fair, wasn’t that far from possible.
The kid looked up at him with confusion in his eyes. “Why the hell are you helping me?”
Tommy furrowed his brow. “Cause you just got hit?” Was this kid dumb or something?
“You some kinda tourist?” the kid looked at him incredulously, like Tommy couldn’t be for real. Tommy glared, but found himself unable to look away from those dark eyes. “No one helps cyclists, especially not peds.”
Tommy raised an eyebrow, unfamiliar with the term. Tommy frowned when he saw people pull out their phones, obviously recording the situation. He heard a few excited whispers of his name, and he breathed a curse under his breath, considering leaving before things got too heavy. It was right about then when the pain seemed to hit because those eyes scrunched and he cursed, clenching one of his fists and punching the cab. He groaned, leaning his head back. “Focus on breathing, ambulance should be here-“ they heard the sirens and Tommy almost smirked. “now.”
As it turned out, the glass piece wasn’t deep and the kid only needed a few stitches. Along with that and some wicked road rash on his knee, the kid was gonna be just fine. Tommy hovered, ensuring the kid was treated right, deciding he wanted to at least know the kid’s name. One of the paramedics kept staring at him, and he knew before the guy spoke what he would say. “Hey, are you by chance… Tommy Riordan?” Tommy sighed through his nose, looking away before nodding. The medic beamed. “Oh man, I am such a huge fan!”
“Is he done here?” Tommy interrupted the man before he could say more.
The medic blinked. “Huh? Oh yeah, he’s done. I just need to file the report and he should be fine.” Tommy nodded, glancing at the kid, who had been watching the exchange with curiosity. Wiley limped over to sit on the curb where his bike was placed, and Tommy followed him.
“Hey, uh… thanks.” The kid said, looking unsure how to handle this. “For helping, I mean. Not many people would help in this city.” He gave Tommy a look that spoke to the fact the kid still probably thought he was from out of town, which wasn’t entirely untrue.
“No problem, it was the right thing to do.” Tommy shrugged, looking equally uncomfortable. He hated being thanked… he hated people telling him he was a hero, cause he wasn’t. Not by any stretch of the imagination.
The kid looked up at him and Tommy couldn’t help but stare into those eyes again. “Tommy, right? My name’s Wilee,” the kid greeted, raising his uninjured arm to offer his hand.
Tommy looked at it a moment before taking it and shaking it. The kid smiled up at him and Tommy’s eyes flicked to his mouth, remembering that day, the way they’d curled up and the sound of his laughter. It was weird, but Tommy wanted to hear the sound again. The kid turned his attention back to his bike and sighed, petting the frame in an almost loving way. “You know they’ll pay for a new one,” Tommy reminded.
The kid- Wilee- sighed, seeming frustrated. “Yeah, but it won’t be her,” he insisted. “She’s been with me through a lot of shit, and to see her in this shape…” he sighed again, before frowning at a thought he seemed to have.
“Saw you ride by here the other day,” Tommy admitted, surprising himself. “Seemed a lot smoother then. You nearly clipped me.”
Wilee looked up at him and grinned, pointing a finger at him. “Nearly,” he focused on the word, seeming pleased with himself. “So I didn’t.”
Tommy couldn’t help the small smile that curled his lips at that. “Yeah, nearly.” He found himself almost chuckling, which was… really weird for him. Normally he’d have just punched someone for doing something like that. So why wasn’t he?
He looked into those dark eyes and watched as- in a flash- they turned from amused to panicked. “Shit! Fuck!” The kid cursed, scrounging around in his pockets. He pulled out a phone… which looked like he would be lucky to even be able to scrap it. The kid looked back up at him, apologetic and pleading. “Um, I know you’ve already done a lot for me, but can I borrow your phone? I need to call my boss…”
Tommy looked him over, considering a moment. “I got a phone, but it’s in my locker. You could probably use the gym’s phone, though.” Well, maybe. It was strictly for members only, but Tommy could probably bully his way through for Wilee. Why, though, he still wasn’t sure. “You need help walking?”
Wilee looked ridiculously relieved. “Naw, I got it.” He stood and grabbed his bike before half limping half hopping in the direction Tommy had gestured.
Tommy rolled his eyes. “Fine my ass,” he grabbed Wilee’s arm and forced it around his shoulder, holding his hand by the wrist so the kid couldn’t get away. The kid tried to insist he was fine, but Tommy didn’t budge. They made their way the short distance to the gym, and the look the receptionist Adam gave him was priceless. Tommy set Wilee on the couch in the front and told him to stay.
After some bitching and a little bit of threatening from Tommy, Adam relented and gave up the phone. Tommy tried not to listen, but it was hard not to. “Oh come on! Don’t send Manny,” Wilee pleaded, before cursing. “Asshole,” he spat. “Thanks.” He sighed as he hung up. Tommy didn’t comment. Wilee looked back over. “Oh, uh…. I’m a courier. Had to call someone to pick up the letter I was supposed to deliver.” He scowled a bit.
“You did just get hit by a cab,” he reminded.
Wilee just snorted. “Doesn't mean shit; Manny's gonna be a complete asshole like always. If you stick around, you'll get to see it."
“Tell him to get fucked then,” Tommy suggested. No one ever really fucked with him… hadn’t in a long time. Not since he started busting in heads.
Wilee laughed before cringing, arm moving to clutch at his bruised ribs. Tommy felt his heart skip a beat at the sound. He looked over and saw amusement in those dark eyes. “I do, almost every day. Doesn’t make a difference.” Tommy was about to respond…
“Always gotta be the hero, huh Tommy?” a voice called out from the office. Tommy grimaced and looked back at Jack, who just laughed, shaking his head as he went back to work.
“I’m not a fucking hero,” Tommy grumbled, shifting in his seat beside Wilee.
“Well, I certainly owe you one,” Wilee spoke, sounding genuine. “Peds normally don’t help cyclists out here. Or cabbies. Or cops.” Tommy frowned. Was that true? Did no one have a sense of fucking decency out here? Maybe coming to NYC to train had been a bad idea… But the way those eyes sparked, Tommy didn’t feel like he regretted it.
“Don’t worry about it,” Tommy mumbled, looking away, feeling a bit like scum beneath that bright gaze.
"Already on YouTube!" Jack shouted grinning madly and Tommy scowled, he was starting to really hate that shit. Could a guy take a piss anymore without it landing online? "Ah relax Tommy, it's just gonna help with more hype for your fight."
“Wait, Youtube?” Tommy glanced up in time to see Wilee’s eyes widen. “Are you serious? Does that mean I’m on Youtube for a fuck up? Shit!” Wilee cursed, nose scrunching slightly in distaste. “There goes my reputation…”
"You got hit by a cab and you're still walking," Tommy reminded him, "most people would have been on the street sobbing." Instead Wilee had cursed up a storm and had been immediately concerned about his bike. Tommy knew it had been adrenaline, but it was still pretty fucking impressive.
He frowned. "Not cyclists, man. Well, most of us. I think Manny would probably just curl up into a little ball and cry while sucking his thumb." His lips curled in a bratty grin at the mental image. "Asshole." He snickered, flinching and wrapping and arm around his chest. "Ow, fuckin' ribs, man..." He huffed, seeming impatient more than in pain.
Before Tommy could comment, Wilee seemed to have moved on. “Hey, I got this thing in a few days, a tourney for cyclists…” he pulled a letter out of his bag. “Here’s an invite as thanks for helping me. It’s not for the event itself, but for the after party when the prizes will be given. Cyclists only, but we get to invite one other person. I was gonna invite some hot chick, but I guess you’ll do. You should come and see me win.” He winked, and Tommy felt… weird. He stared at the invitation for a moment surprised. His mind raced through his schedule for the next few weeks, a mess of training and physical therapy like always but amped up due to his fight next month.
“Sorry I don’t have tits,” Tommy mumbled, taking the invitation. He wasn’t sure why he took it, why he agreed to go… Tommy hated feeling unsure about shit, but Wilee was interesting like nothing had interested him in a long time.
Wilee grinned. "Hey, we could always dress you up," He teased, shoving at Tommy's arm.
"Don't have the legs for it," Tommy shot back shaking his head with a little smile. Tommy couldn't even remember the name of the last girl he'd dated, or even the last time he'd gotten laid. Other fighters took advantage of the perks, partying and fucking different girls every night, Tommy threw himself into training instead. It was the only way he could get a chance at a decent nights rest if he was fucking exhausted.
Wilee laughed harder, clutching his ribs. "Seriously, don't worry about it. You should see some of the girls I date, flatter than-"
"Wiiiii-lee! What's up? Did the coyote get run over?" Tommy looked up at who had interrupted them. Some fit black guy with an arrogant smile. He looked back over in time to see Wilee's smile drop and be replaced with the most annoyed expression.
"Manny," He gave him a near bitter grin. Ah, Tommy thought. "Just take the letter," Wilee huffed, going into his bag to get it.
"Oh yeah, I will. Don't you worry, Manny's on the case; fastest- and also most stunningly handsome- cyclist this side of NYC; here to pick up after Wiley the fuck-up daredevil!" He mocked. Wilee muttered under his breath and Tommy felt his hands clench into fists at his sides. "Ohhhh, look at that; your chopped up bike got chewed up too! I think it's gotta be karma or somethin'." The man laughed in a cheery way.
Wilee glared hatefully up at him. "Just take the fucking letter," He shoved it towards Manny. "You know where it goes, right?"
"Manny got this, Manny isn't a fuck up. Like you." He grinned, his perfect teeth shining bright against his dark skin before he turned to leave. "Oh, by the way? Vanessa says hi." He cackled as he turned to leave.
People who bragged and talked themselves up that much without shit to show for it pissed him off. Though if he was honest, it rarely took much to get Tommy pissed. "Go deliver the fucking letter and get the fuck out of here," Tommy snapped as the man turned his back. Part of him was itching for a fight, it had been too long and he knew Jack would kill him if he got hurt in a brawl but Tommy could give two shits.
"Asshole," Wilee growled, shaking his head. Tommy looked down and noticed the man seemed to stroke his bike without a thought.
“You’ll have time to fix it,” though really, he was just guessing. He didn’t know shit about bikes, and that one looked fucked to hell. Tommy wasn’t sure why he felt so compelled to comfort the other man.
Wilee frowned, looking down at his bike. “Maybe,” he sounded both forlorn and hopeful at the same time and Tommy shifted in his seat, unsure how to handle this.
“Just harass the fuck out of the insurance company,” Tommy suggested.
Wilee nodded, before raising himself to his feet, clutching his broken bike. “Hey, thanks again.” He gave Tommy a small, grateful smile and Tommy swallowed. "I seriously owe you one. I need to head back to my place though; see what I can do for her with what I got. See ya, Tommy."
“Hold on,” Tommy’s heart was racing, and he wasn’t sure why he did it, but he stood and made his way over to the counter and grabbed Jack’s notebook, scrawling his phone number on it before tearing the page out. He held it out to Wilee. "If you need help… or some shit." He felt awkward, idiotic even, but Wilee was interesting, and for a few minutes no part of Tommy's mind had been back in Iraq.
Tommy’s eyes flashed to Wilee’s mouth as it curled in a grin. He took the paper. “Thanks, I’ll give you a call when I get a new phone,” he pocketed the paper and Tommy swallowed.
“Are you done with your date, yet?! Come on, Tommy! Get back to work!” His trainer snapped at him and Tommy frowned, but he knew he was right. He needed to get back and stop… whatever the hell this was.
Tommy was surprised when Wilee laughed. “Don’t be jealous, coach!” Wilee called back out, before turning his attention back to Tommy. He winked, and Tommy’s heart skipped a nervous beat. “See ya.”
Tommy was left staring after him for a moment, frozen to the spot. Just what the fuck had he gotten himself into?