A Deviant Spawn Betrayal Ch. 01

Author's Note:

Yay! A return to the world of Deviant Spawn! Finally, lol.

Due to the length, I've broken this story up into 4 parts, each about 2 to 4 pages in length. Don't despair (I know I'm horrible about posting quick updates), the story is already completed in full and all chapters have been submitted. No long wait for parts 2, 3 & 4!

If you guys enjoy reading about my boys, and if you haven't already done so, then check out WickedWendyDru's awesome series Dust & Ash. Dust & Ash is also about a band & my boys/Jazzy will feature in some of the later chapters.

Just a few words of warning on A Deviant Spawn Betrayal. First, as if the name doesn't totally give this away, the tone of this story is completely different than Rory's. Completely. As you'll immediately see, everything is not peaches and cream with Shane & Rev. You've been warned...

Second, I don't want my readers to be jarred unexpectedly, so you should know this story is told in 2 different tenses. I received an anonymous comment on A Deviant Spawn Christmas that I should write the story about what happened between Shane & Rev on Christmas Eve and I liked the suggestion so much I took it and expanded on it. Don't know who you are, Anon, but thanks for the idea! So, the flashbacks are told from a 1st person perspective while the rest of the story is told from a 3rd person perspective. Both perspectives are Shane's and, for the most part, they are at complete opposite ends of the emotion spectrum. In essence, this story is 2 stories rolled together into 1.

Lastly, for all my music aficionados, I'll tell you upfront which songs Shane & Rev made me think of. Creep by Radiohead really puts me in the mind of Shane while Snuff by Slipknot makes me think of them both but more so Rev. If you know anything about these 2 songs, then I think you already know what the tone of part of this story is going to be.

And I want to give a heartfelt thanks to avidreader_01 for being my Beta reader.

As always, comments & suggestions are welcome.

"You ruined my fucking life."

February 4, 2011

Shane Wilkinson stood on the tips of his toes, craning his head this way and that, searching for a familiar face in the baggage claim section of JFK airport. In particular, Shane searched for one familiar face. He searched for the face of the person who'd convinced him to fly up from Orlando for a quick visit starting the Friday before and ending the day after Deviant Spawn's last concert of their current tour.

Despite his serious misgivings, Shane had agreed to dunh, dunh, dunh...The Visit, as he'd come to think of the trip, when his best friend Rory had suggested it. Rory claimed to be in desperate need of something from his past to help keep himself grounded in his new whirlwind lifestyle as the fiancé of Taz, the mega-celebrity lead singer of Deviant Spawn. And since Taz had arranged a fast approaching, extended vacation to Massachusetts for him and Rory to plan their upcoming May wedding, thereby preventing Rory from visiting home anytime soon, Rory had decided a visit from Shane would be the perfect solution.

Shane was well aware the reason presented by Rory as the basis for The Visit was bogus. The real reason had to do with Rory's need to make sure with his own two eyes, before he jetted off to Boston with Taz, that Shane was doing as good as Shane often assured him he was during their near nightly phone conversations. Because, afterwards, Rory would be too busy to hound Shane as he critiqued possible wedding sites, bitched over dry cake tastings and ripped new assholes for his flaming, bourgeois wedding consultants.

And the argument with the florist was sure to be an epic distraction all of its own accord once Taz's color choice for flowers was revealed. Shane could just imagine how the whole scene would play out: Yes, Rory did know black roses were morbid and, no, he didn't care that stargazer lilies were a trendy alternative while still being nontraditional unless they, too, could be provided in the needed quantities in black.

Certain aspects of Shane's not so distant past fueled Rory's concern for him. And a couple incidents had occurred a few weeks ago, incidents Shane refused to talk about, which worried Rory. Rory was convinced the incidents could prove to be just enough to launch Shane head first into a depression Shane had barely beaten the first time around.

In theory, much as Shane dreaded the inevitable confrontation with his best friend, there wasn't much about The Visit for him to stress about. All of his expenses were being paid, after all. Plus, Deviant Spawn did hold the spot of being his favorite rock band of all time. And not only was he going to be spending time with Rory, Shane was going to be seeing Deviant Spawn perform for free...for the second time. And by rights of his friendship with Rory, Shane would also be mingling and hobnobbing with the three men who made up the band...for the second time.

And The Visit certainly beat the hell out of spending yet another weekend without Rory, his bestest ever, his only bestest, to get into mayhem with. Because the thought of that just sucked. Majorly.

But there was a drawback. The reason behind Shane's misgivings. And it was a doozy, one which sent the theory flying right out the door.

The Visit would make seeing Revelin again unavoidable.

Revelin St. James. Deviant Spawn's lead guitarist. Deviant Spawn's awesomely hot and gay lead guitarist. Who Shane had had a one night stand with on Christmas Eve. Followed by a totally embarrassing meltdown over the man on Christmas Day. And an emotionally painful encounter with him seven days later on the first day of the New Year.

The incidents Shane refused to talk about.

But Shane could deal with seeing Revelin again. He would deal with seeing Revelin again.

Because, truth be told, Rory wasn't the only person with an ulterior motive. Shane's agreeing to The Visit had very little to do with keeping his best friend rooted in reality. And a whole lot to do with Revelin.

Shane hoped for the opportunity to speak in private to his one-time lover about what had occurred between the two of them. But Shane was afraid Revelin would reject his request to talk, would reject Shane's explanation for his actions on New Year's Day even if he did agree to talk—thus, the basis of the uncertainty Shane felt towards The Visit in general.

After his scan confirmed Rory still wasn't in the vicinity, Shane rocked back onto the heels of his feet. There was an older couple to his right who, from the look of the mountain of Louis Vuitton bags piled in front of them, had decided to lug the contents of their entire house across the country. And was waiting for yet more of their crap to arrive.

A quick glance around revealed most of the people from his flight already had at least one of their bags in their possession, making Shane wonder what Jet Blue god he'd pissed off. He'd been standing there for fifteen minutes, just like his fellow passengers, waiting for his luggage to be unloaded. However, unlike his fellow passengers, Shane's luggage consisted of a single bag.

To Shane's left, just behind him, stood three college age girls. The fourth member of their group stood right by Shane's side. The guy wore his obviously bleached, nape length locks swooped down over one eye and, from what Shane could see of the visible one, his eyes were tinted a deep shade of honey. He was the same height as Shane, slim—almost willowy—with a pointy, upturned nose and lips which appeared well suited for the forming of flirty, mischievous grins.

Somehow, the guy had been relegated by his female companions as the retriever of bags while the trio occupied themselves in other ways. Mainly, the three seemed to be entertaining one another by seeing who could sigh the loudest, stomp their feet the hardest and devise the most interesting manner to elsewise indicate their impatience.

Shane totally got their frustration. He was two seconds from indulging in a bit of stomping of the combat boots of his own when the guy spoke to him in a voice so high it barely qualified as masculine. "Let me guess...here for the Deviant Spawn concert."

I'm here for Revelin, Shane thought. "Something like that. You?"

"Uh, yeah. Hello, you do know that Taz is getting married in a few months, right? It'll take much longer than normal for the guys to put their next album together and to hit the road on another tour." The guy stuck a hand out. "Eric."

Shane grasped the extended member. "Shane."

Eric's wrist was limp, his grip inconsequential. "You from the Orlando area, Shane?"

And the handshake lasted far longer than Shane would've liked. The need to wipe off the feel of Eric's dead fish touch was an overpowering urge he had to fight hard against. "Pine Hills."

"Crime Hills? You actually live there? In peace? Make that, you live there in one piece?" A grimace flitted across Eric's face. But he quickly covered his disgusted reaction with an, "Ignore me. Especially since we're practically neighbors. I attend UCF," he explained, studying Shane. "Actually, do we already know each other? You look real familiar..."

"We've never met," Shane replied, positive his answer was the truth. Just as positive he knew why Eric thought he looked familiar.

"Er-ric!" one of the girls whined. "Pay attention! You just let one of my bags go by!"

"Either shut the fuck up, Jessie, or waddle your ass up here and grab your own damn bags," Eric said with a toss of his head.

The girl muttered, "I will, just as soon as your new weirdo of a friend moves out of my way."

"Better watch your mouth, bitch. My new weirdo of a friend lives in Pine Hills. I bet he can beat you up."

"Who you calling a bitch, slut?"

"Who you calling a slut, bitch?"

Shane mumbled in response, not really saying anything, but just making a sound to acknowledge the two friends' catty swipes at each other. Ready to be away from the foursome, he lunged for his bag right as it made its long awaited appearance around the conveyor's bend.

"Wanna exchange numbers?" Eric asked as Shane straightened and shouldered the backpack. "We should keep in contact with each other while up here. Back home, too, I mean. Just as long as you know, no offense, I'd never come visit you at your house. But you can always come see me up on campus."

Shane considered Eric's request as he considered Eric himself. There was a crooked grin on Eric's face. It highlighted just how attractive he was, in a sassy sort of way.

But there was something about the young Carson Kressley lookalike that really put Shane off. Which was ridiculous considering Shane couldn't identify what that something was. Nor did he know Eric well enough to have formed a dislike of him.

But still...

And was Eric flirting with him?

Better yet, was Shane ready for that?

The most important bond Shane had ever formed in his life was his friendship with Rory. And though they'd been involved with one another sexually, they'd never become involved with each other romantically, a deeper, emotionally entangled involvement which terrified Shane. And now that Rory was no longer in Orlando, Shane was left with no other friends at home and definitely with no lovers or love interests anywhere around.

Making a new friend would be good, but fuck, just the thought of doing so, or of becoming involved in something more meaningful, made Shane feel like his entire body was suffocating. It made his skin tingle, made it feel too tight all over. He felt physically ill.

So many possible implications and so many possible unfavorable outcomes. Any type of relationship, whether it was a simple friendship or an affair full of passion and life, meant learning to love. And opening himself up to another person. And baring that part of himself that was the real him that he didn't like to expose to anyone but Rory. And trusting that part of himself to the care of someone new.

That part of himself he'd long ago walled off. An unconscious defense mechanism which had resulted from the personal quest of his mother to tear him down whenever he'd sought out her love or affection while growing up.

But it was as a result of letting those exact same self-doubts rule his actions that shit had turned so sour with Revelin, wasn't it?

Christ, he was so screwed up.

Shane didn't want a relationship with Eric—didn't particularly want a friendship with the guy either—that much he knew for sure. But he did want more with Revelin. A whole lot more. He wanted passion and life and love with him. He craved a lifetime's worth of what he'd tasted just the barest hint of at the end of two thousand ten with the man.

But how could he truly expect to ever get anywhere with Revelin if he couldn't even open himself up to making this one new fucking friendship with Eric now?

"You really don't seem like the kind of person who'd be interested in getting to know someone like me," Shane hedged. Eric's zipped up winter coat prevented him from seeing Eric's entire outfit, but Shane's imagination conjured a fitted, fuchsia shirt made out of some type of sparkly material to accompany the tight, shiny, dark pants he could see.

"I am," Eric assured. "Very interested."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

Yeah, why not? Shane echoed to himself. "You are talking about getting to know one another as just friends, right?"

"Just friends?" Eric's smile widened. "Sure, right, just friends."

"Umm, Eric," a different member of the trio said, "I'm not exactly the expert on gay men or anything, but I'm pretty sure you two play the same position."

"Well, I am the, quote-unquote, expert, Lyddy, and just because me and Shane are both, ahem, catchers doesn't mean we can't still be friends. Isn't that right, Shane?"

"Right," Shane forced himself to agree amid the chorus of the girls' ewwws. He was scared to death of getting to know Eric better, of inviting Eric to get to know him better, but he was going to fight his demons, goddamn it. The battle was one he was fully prepared to win.

And accepting Eric's offer of friendship was a small victory for Shane. One that placed him mentally in a much better position to deal with Revelin.

After they'd swapped contact information, Shane made to move away from the luggage carousel...right as Eric's friend Jessie rushed to fill Shane's void. The void Shane hadn't quite managed to yet leave.

She knocked into him, pushing him back a step, but instead of apologizing, she sniped, "Move it, freak."

"Going, bitch," Shane returned with a bright smile. Strange as it was, he was grateful to her for her disrespect. Her nastiness flung him solidly back into his comfort zone. Unlike the exchange with Eric, this type of encounter was something Shane knew a little something about.

He'd been dealing with it his entire life.

The Queen Bitch, aka his mother, specialized in the spewing of hateful comments. On the regular. Meaning being called a "freak" by a stranger meant less than nothing to Shane. Far as insults went, it was actually kind of lacking. Rory's penchant for referring to him as an animal well known for its stubborn disposition and the loud braying noises it made carried more bite.

Pressing his fingers to his lips lightly, so as not to smudge the black lipstick he wore, Shane then blew chubbs a kiss. While she busied herself retrieving her jaw from the ground, he danced around her to the tune of Eric's tinkling laughter and headed to one of the building's exits. Eager for his first taste of New York with a foundation of solid ground beneath his feet, he stepped out the sliding glass doors.

And found himself the unfortunate victim of a brutal assault mounted by the nighttime winds of early February.

Shane quickly reached the conclusion that waiting inside for Rory was the preferable option to the frozen tundra. Just as he was about to beat feet in a hasty backtracking, the cell he still held in his hand chirped. The screen indicated he had a new text.

From: Emma Frost

Where the hell are you???

The message was from Rory, the moniker the name he'd chosen long ago in their comic book infatuation as the character he felt was his alter ego. In X-Men world, Emma Frost was an evil shrew turned good. And her change of character had no bearing at all on the reason why Rory identified with her. He'd chosen her because he felt she was the fictitious epitome of beauty in the female form. And, pretty as he was, Rory represented the feminine facet of beauty in the male form.

Hey, no one had ever accused his friend of being deep when it came to his pretty boy good looks.

Shane, on the other hand, had changed monikers as he himself evolved throughout the years. First, he'd been Wolverine during the time he still tried to conform to what he thought his mother wanted from him as well as to society's expectations. Strong, manly, masculine. What the world expected of boys.

But after his very first encounter of the sexual nature with a Rory attired in a homemade Emma Frost costume, it became apparent to Shane that, although he'd been playing the part of Wolverine during their faked skirmish, he was not Logan and Logan was not him. Especially considering the only reason that encounter hadn't reached culmination was due to the ill-timed entrance of Rory's father.

After that, Shane referred to himself as Northstar of X-Men fame. Then as the rogue superhero Midnighter from The Authority. And, finally, as Midnighter's husband/partner in The Authority's team of superheros, Apollo. But, one by one, he'd eventually cast all three aside because, outside of the fact they were homosexual, he felt no true connection to the characters.

In more recent months, he'd settled on DC Comics's Klarion. The witch boy. Chosen in spite of the character's heterosexuality because Klarion looked different, a characteristic Shane could identify with. He was different.

And just like the original version of Klarion, Shane felt incomplete.

Sliding out his phone's keypad, Shane typed out a reply.

To: Emma Frost

Freezn my nuts off. Bad. Very bad. I adore my nuts. Love them! More than whats healthy. Be warned, lose mine, takn yours...or tazs.

Before Shane could hit the send button, the door behind him slid open. And a familiar voice filled with elation shouted, "Shane!"

Readying himself to receive an armful of Rory Banks, Shane returned his cell to the holster clipped to the waistband of his skinny jeans and dropped his backpack to the ground. He heard Rory's fast approaching footsteps and whirled around at the last moment, just in enough time to catch Rory when he launched himself out the building's exit. Granted, Shane had about two inches on Rory's five-eight height and about fifteen or so pounds on Rory's one-fiftyish weight, but he was no match for a Rory moving at the speed of light and with all the power of one of Jet Blue's AirBuses. He almost found himself bowled over by the staggering force that was his best friend in motion.

Shane planted a hand on a nearby wall to steady the two of them. Then wrapped both arms around Rory's gray wool peacoat covered waist and hunkered down slightly so he could burrow his face into Rory's scarf covered neck.

A million things he both wanted and needed to say ran through his mind. He settled on a muffled, "Shit, I've missed you, dude."

"Well, that was very anticlimactic," Rory replied, returning the embrace. "We haven't seen each other since Christmas and the best you've got for me is a 'Shit, I've missed you, dude'?"