Chapter Text
Was he excited to be teamed with Grian?
Absolutely 100%, Grian was like his hero. The builder was the whole reason he realized leaving the Watchers was an option he had.
It wasn’t his plan to stay among Players and never return to the Watchers but once he got a taste of positive emotions he never looked back.
Well never stopped running, he looked back a whole lot, mainly to make sure he wasn’t being followed.
Then he’d fallen in love with speedrunning and specifically not resetting the world, the quicker the server swap the most stretched his spell hiding him from prying eyes got and if he was on a server to long the spell had to be thinner to cover everything he did, so no reset speedrunning was the happy medium.
Plus he’d changed up how he looked, well at least mostly, trading his purple eyes for chocolate brown to match his hair and his purple wings for a brilliant gold, technically a dwarven goldfinch. He dressed himself in royal purple and gold, he did like purple at the end of the day, and a pair of fake black glasses that did serve an actual purpose, they had a little spell on them so he couldn’t instinctively Watch while speedrunning.
He took the latter part of his title, Speedway, along with a misspelling of Curry to make himself a gamertag, Player name, Couriway.
All that to make himself unrecognizable as a Watcher.
Yet nothing could erase the purple shimmer that his, and all other disguised Watcher wings, had.
So Grian was a bit of an idol for him, he was amazing.
But based on his own paranoia he knew how Grian would probably react to him being on his team once they actually met in person.
They didn’t interact, basically at all, when Grian was with the Others. Grian was a Watcher and he was a Charismatic they didn’t interact unless they were put on a game together.
But Grian had seen him a few times, enough that he’d remembered his name the last time they passed in the hall.
Grian was going to know and was going to freak out and tell Scott and then he’d be kicked out of MCC forever and Scott would tell everyone and he’d lose all his friends and have nothing again.
He loved the little piece of life he’d carved for himself, that he’d fought and learned Player customs for, and he was desperate to hold onto it.
But Fein was also playing in the event and he’d worry if he backed out and if he even suggested that he didn’t feel well Fein would back out too, and he didn’t want to be the reason Feinberg backed out.
And Fruit would be worried the whole event and keep checking in and just not be locked in on the event and then Fruit’s team losing would be his fault and he couldn’t have that either.
He still debated it though, through each moment he spent practicing for MCC, along or with teammates, or speedrunning, or cooking, or planning, or just going about his day.
He almost felt bad for Shelby and Hbomb because he kept just half zoning out while they were all talking.
Even as he put on the team costume, red of course, he was thinking about it to the point he more went though the motions of putting on the costume.
Feinberg came over once they were both dressed, curling his arms around him from behind, pink visor hidden by the same glamour making his eyes yellow and hair white, “Not gonna glamour your wings?”
What was the point? He thought as he shrugged, “I might once we get there.” Technically it wasn’t a glamour it was harmlessly putting a layer of code over his wings but Fein didn’t know that.
The cat hybrid behind him, ears and tail glamoured yellow, asked, “You feeling alright Couri?”
He nodded, meeting Fein’s eyes through the mirror and offering him a smile, more fake than he’d admit but it reached his eyes and it fooled the smartest guy he knew.
Worry dispersed from Feinberg’s eyes and he only felt a bit guilty at the relief, blueberry pie, he could taste.
Almost pounding knocks sounded on the door, “Are you two cahooters dressed yet?” Fruit’s voice sounded from the other side of the door.
Fein stepped back, letting him go, and he missed the stable support of his best friend at his back. “Yeah, we’re ready, please tell me you’re not still in the neon green hoodie.”
Fruit opened the door already rolling his eyes, he just knew his friends, Fruit’s expression box was on his head and he wasn’t even looking at Fruit yet, “It matches my skin.”
“Is that what makes my eyes feel like they’re burning?” He asked, turning away from the mirror.
What Fruit had on was probably worse than the hoodie, there was a ginger wig pinned on his box and he was wearing a light blue, sparkly, tube top and skirt.
“What in the Void is that?” He asked.
Fein glanced at him confused.
“Heard of Winx Club, Couri?” Fruit asked.
He blinked at both the FB’s, he had not.
“It’s a kids show,” Fein said, “Marketed to girls but it’s very your style.”
Ah he understood the confusion now, “I was very sheltered growing up,” He said. Certainly a way to say he basically grew up in a cult.
“Right, I forgot your childhood was boring,” Fruit said.
Boring, right, he’d like to repeat his cult comment.
“Maybe you can show it to me later,” He offered. If he got a later.
“Yes!” Fruit said, “Next HBG movie night, Winx Club!”
He nodded along with Fein, he wanted the next movie night to come, so badly.
“Are you three leaving yet?!” Mime called up.
“Coming Mime,” He called back and started for the door.
Before he could get through the door Fein took one hand and Fruit took the other and they all but pulled him out of the house and to the hub portal.
The main hub was fine, it was the main hub but he had Feinberg and Fruitberries on either side of him so he was safe.
But not having to pay attention to the area around him meant he could spiral back to his thoughts, fears.
By the time they got to MCC’s portal he had almost convinced himself that backing out was the smartest decision.
Fein pulled him through and he didn’t resist.
He was hit by a wall of emotions, excitement, anxiety, joy, bits of fear. This part was easy, pushing the mass of emotions to the back of his mind, ignoring the tastes on his tongue. Focusing on the strawberry jam and mint chocolate ice cream tastes of Fein and Fruit’s excitement.
Everyone was required to show up a bit early to meet up with their teams, build their intro build, and make sure their broadcasts worked.
“Look’s like you’re the last member of your team here Couri,” Fruit said.
Shit. He followed where Fruit was looking and sure enough Hbomb, Shelby, and Grian were all together talking. The purple shimmer ever present on Grian’s parrot wings.
He swallowed. Void, he wasn’t going to last five minutes.
Fein squeezed his arm and pressed a kiss to the side of his head, “I’ll see you after.”
“Yeah,” He agreed, “See you after Fein.”
“Bye Couri,” Fruit said, nudging his box up enough to offer him a real smile.
“Bye Fruit,” He returned the smile as real as he could make it.
Fruit dropped his box and took off after Fein yelling, “Can’t wait to see you watching me in the stands!”
He rolled his eyes as amusement rose up at their normal antics despite all the thoughts running through his head.
He made his way to his team he narrowed down the tastes on his tongue to figure out which ones were his teammates, he did know H and Shelby from practice but it was grounding and not his issues.
Shelby’s excitement tasted like warm mushroom soup, H’s excitement tasted like spicy chicken wings, and Grian’s tasted like cinnamon apples. He’d never tasted Grian’s excitement before, he’d always been sad or upset or angry.
“Couri!” H was the first to notice him.
He smiled, H’s excitement was in fact contagious, almost making him forget his nerves.
He waved, eyes sliding to Shelby then Grian.
As he and Grian met eyes he selfishly wished Fein was on his team, not because he was the Feinberg but because that was his best friend and he wanted, needed, the support. He was so fucked.