playing it cool (but we're lying)

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/45618559.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M
Fandom: Outer Banks (TV)
Relationships: Kiara "Kie" Carrera/JJ Maybank, JJ Maybank/Kiara Carrera, Kiara
Carrera/JJ Maybank, JJ/Kiara (Outer Banks)
Characters: Kiara "Kie" Carrera, JJ Maybank, Pope Heyward, Sarah Cameron, John
B. Routledge
Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Points of View, POV Alternating,
Internal Monologue, Canon Dialogue, During Canon, Fluff, Angst, Hugs,
Friends to Lovers, Best Friends
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2023-03-09 Updated: 2024-01-11 Words: 8,099 Chapters: 2/6
 playing it cool (but we're lying)
by HomebodyNobody, OliviaRedfield

Summary

She’s saying his name, whispering it like a prayer of thanks, over and over and over, and she
crashes into him with a half-sob and it knocks the air clean out of his lungs but who cares?
He can finally breathe again.
-
He moves toward her on instinct, his eyes never leaving hers, steps smooth and sure as he
opens his arms for her. In a few steps, she’s crashing into him, overwhelmed with the scent of
salt and sweat and something so unique and inherent to JJ she’s never bothered to name it.

Important moments in season 3 word-for-word... but with added internal monologue from
both parties!
Ch. 1 - 3x02 (reunion and hug at the docks)

Notes

(co written with OliviaRedfield, co-creator credit currently pending)

I started writing an internal monologue for a moment later in the season and then Liv was
like 'can I write the other one' and I was like 'what if we wrote both POVs internal
monologues from all the significant jiara moments in the season???' and now this exists.

title from "Kilby Girl" by The Backseat Lovers

moodboard

See the end of the work for more notes

 Ohana

Part I - JJ

JJ is losing hope. He doesn’t want to tell the others, but he is. It’s not that he doesn’t believe
in Kie. Of course, he does, how could he not? But this Singh guy - Kingfish or whatever -
well. He’s a wildcard. He’d told John B to go ahead and kill his soldiers . Said that to a
bunch of seventeen-year-olds like he was placing an order at goddamn McDonald’s. Clearly,
this guy isn’t fucking around. And Kie is smart, God is she smart, but smart also means she
knows how dangerous this guy is and she won’t take chances with her life. Not like he would.

But she won’t risk the gold either. If John B is right, then Kingfish is after the same treasure
that got them into this whole mess in the first place. What if he thinks Kiara knows
something? She won’t talk, she knows better than to trust anyone who’s after the gold. What
if he hurts her? What if she’s already… He shifts where he is laying against a bale of hay.
Focuses on the sounds of Sarah breathing right above his head. He can’t sleep, not like
everyone else. Not when Kie is out there, probably being tortured and nearly killed all for a
chunk of metal. They never should have left Poguelandia. He doesn’t give a shit about the
gold, treasure hunting, any of it. He just wants his friends, his family , all back in one place,
safe.

Cleo scuffs her shoe against the ground. JJ thinks about telling her to take a break, he’ll keep
watch for a while, but then Portis’ phone pings in his pocket. Hot panic rises in his throat,
hands shaking as he reads the message: Meet @ pin 6:15 P4L

His hope was nearly gone, but now his heart is singing again, insisting that Kie is out there
and she has to be okay and this text is from her. It is her. It has to be her. Cleo says as much,
calling everyone out on their jumpiness. Pope thinks it’s a trap, but it’s Kie. It’s got to be Kie.
Please, please let it be Kie.

Scanning the dock for Singh’s men is second nature. This is their lives now. Always on the
run, always searching for the next tripwire, trap, gun pressed against their heads. JJ searches
the boats nearby, the docks, pausing on every face. She’s got to be here. And if this is a trap,
he can’t waste a single second finding her. His eyes catch on a girl with curls and a tie-dyed
crop top and his heart leaps into his throat.

“Guys, is that her?” but even as he says it and Pope shakes his head, he can tell it isn’t. The
pants are all wrong, she’s wearing sneakers not boots, and Kie’s hair is totally different. His
chest tightens, the little hope he had left wrung out of him like water from a damp rag.
They’re here and she’s not. Another trick to get them out in the open, to get information
about the stupid treasure out of them. He’d trade all the gold in the world to have Kie back
with him right now.

“Hand me the phone,” Cleo says. “I’ll take care of this.” She points to the yacht in front of
them. “That boat. That’s the pin. The white one right there.”
Of fucking course it is. Singh and his men are probably on board right this second, holding
Kie hostage and just waiting for five stupid teenagers to saunter up trying to get their friend
back. Well, trap or not, JJ isn’t leaving without her. Not again. He’ll never forgive himself for
letting her get taken. He’ll take that pain to his grave. He’s destined for hell, anyway. But he
sure as shit won’t add leaving her here to his long list of regrets.

He cocks the gun, sticking it back in his waistband, shirt tucked behind it for easy access. The
odds that this will end badly are high. He hasn’t even asked Pope what the actual numbers
are, just feels it in his gut. They could go into this guns a-blazing, try to take the boat by
storm and sheer stupid force, but he knows that’ll just get them all killed. So he has to be the
one to go out there. Because he won’t let anyone else get hurt. Because he’s the one who has
to get Kie back. Because he’s the one who left her to get kidnapped in the first place.

He’s exposed, standing alone in the middle of the dock, looking for familiar faces, friendly or
otherwise. Heart pounding, breath coming in short bursts, his palm sweaty, gripping the gun,
ready to fight for his life - or, well, Kiara’s life. He doesn’t really care about his own so
much, as long as Kie is safely returned to the Pogues and everyone else gets out relatively
unscathed. He can be okay with that. Just as long as she’s safe.

Someone is coming around the side of the boat. Someone is gonna see him, maybe even see
the others behind him. His hand twitches, ready to grab his gun, ready to go out in a shootout
unlike any other. He’d do that for all of them. He’d do that for Kie

But then the person calls out his name. And they’re tucking familiar honey-brown curls
behind their ear. And they’re scrambling to get off the boat, and she’s running to him and it’s
Kie of course it’s Kie.

He pushes his hat off his head. It’s her, and she’s safe, and she’s here. His eyes don’t leave
hers as she comes closer down the dock toward him. She looks alright , he’s telling himself,
she looks fine . There aren’t any visible wounds or bruises; she’s wearing different clothes
and he doesn’t want to think about where she got a set of silk pajamas, but she looks fine. She
looks good. His hands fall limp to his sides, gun forgotten. Relief washes over him with such
force he nearly collapses on the spot. The anxiety tightening in his chest finally gives way
and he freezes, rooted to the spot. No more adrenaline fueled running, no fighting for the
Pogues’ lives, just this moment where Kie is running toward him and she’s alright.

She’s saying his name, whispering it like a prayer of thanks, over and over and over, and she
crashes into him with a half-sob and it knocks the air clean out of his lungs but who cares?
He can finally breathe again.

He buries his nose in her neck, breathing in the scent of her, holding her just a little too tight.
“I’m so glad you’re safe,” he whispers into her hair.

She laughs. She actually chuckles, and then pulls back from him, pushing her hair out of both
of their faces. “Wow,” she sniffles, tears still threatening to tumble down her cheeks, but
she’s smiling so, so wide. “I didn’t think I’d see you ever again.” Her hands are on his face,
stroking his cheek, then his shoulders, fingers twisting into his collar, like she can’t believe
he’s here. Her touch leaves little fires under his skin, burning and sparking in rhythm with his
own heart beat. His breath catches again in a sort of half-chuckle.
I didn’t think I’d see you again, either. He almost says. I thought you were dead or would be
soon. I thought I’d lost a huge part of who I am forever. I thought I’d lost you.

She’s looking at him with such tenderness, all those words die on his lips. Instead, he just
says, “Yeah, but I’m here now, okay? It’s alright,” as he pulls her back to him. “It’s alright.”
Her chin nestles into his shoulder; his hands move up her back and into her hair, tears
pricking at his eyelids. He might never let her go. He never wants to let her go.

Just as he tightens his arms around her again, the Pogues come up behind them, and she’s
pulling back, or he is, he isn’t sure - he knows she’ll want to see the others, too, and she’s
already holding her arms out to them. He nearly chases her touch, grabs her hand and pulls
her back into him, the idea of being apart from her again too overwhelming to consider. But
that’s weird, isn’t it? That’s not the kind of thought that passes between Two Good Friends,
right? So he lets her step past him, watches as she runs to hug the rest of them, too.

The Pogues pile in, Pope and Cleo first, then everyone else following. John B’s got his hand
on the back of Kie’s head in a kind of fatherly way. JJ can’t help but join back in, his heart fit
to burst from happiness. His friends, his family, are all safe and here in his arms.

“We thought you were dead,” Pope says softly, giving voice to JJ’s deepest fears. No one says
anything in response, an air of knowing and gratefulness settling onto them.

JJ pulls back first, clearing his throat. They’re still in the open, and Singh or his men could be
just around the corner, but Kie doesn’t seem worried. In fact, she seems to be alone. How she
escaped is beyond him, but he’ll ask that question later. Right now, he’s happy enough
knowing she’s safe, she’s back where she belongs, with the Pogues, and that apparently they
have a ride off this damned island. He gestures to the huge white boat, his voice full of awe,
“Are you kidding me? Kie…”

“Is this you?” John B finishes his thought, while Sarah just splutters through tears of joy.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Kie shakes her head knowingly and motions for
them all to follow.

JJ is right on her heels. He’s not sure exactly what he says, but she’s laughing at him, her eyes
lighting up with each answer to his stupid questions. She’s holding tight to Sarah and Cleo
and telling them all how she stole this boat out from under Rafe Cameron’s nose and he’s so
proud of her. He knew she wouldn’t go down without a fight, he’d pinned all his hopes on it.
And he’d been right, and because she’s Kie, she’d not only rescued herself, but managed to
rescue the rest of them, too.

He wishes he could pull her back into his arms. Breathe in the scent of her hair, feel the
smoothness of her skin, just drink in the fact that she is safe and sound and here. With him.
Where she belongs. But that’s not who they are to each other. He’s okay with that. As long as
she’s with him, with the Pogues, he can be okay with that. She meets his eyes as they all
clamber onto the boat and she smiles. And that’s everything he needs.

Part II - Kiara
Meet @ pin 6:15 P4L

Kiara sends the text with shaking hands, and then sits down in the cabin of the catamaran, her
elbow resting on her knee, her leg bouncing violently. Thirty minutes. She’s given them thirty
minutes to get to the boat, and then they’re home free. Thirty minutes , she thinks. How much
can they fuck up in thirty minutes?

She can only sit for a few minutes until she’s up again, fidgeting with knots and lines, leaving
the bare minimum so they can be off the dock as soon as possible. That takes her five
minutes. Then, she loots the cabin, going through all the cabinets. If they want to get all the
way back to the OBX, they’ll need food and water. There’s only bottles upon bottles of
booze, all mostly empty. Fucking Rafe.

It’s hard to keep herself busy for the next half hour. After twenty minutes, she’s up on the
deck again by the wheel, pacing and checking the dock every thirty seconds. 6:15 passes.
Then 6:16. 6:17. Every instinct begs her to stay on the boat, even while she considers
climbing down to the dock and hunting for her friends, herself. You don’t have any shoes, she
reminds herself. You’re wearing silk pajamas and you don’t have any shoes .

6:18.

He’ll come. They all will. He’ll come, and they’ll all be with him.

She does not care to acknowledge why JJ is at the forefront of her mind, among her friends.
But it’s him she’s looking for, that crazy mop of blond hair, those broad shoulders and golden
skin. It’s his eyes that she thinks about the most, that she can picture so clearly in her mind.
Sky and sea and the mix between, blue and perfect.

6:19.

JJ never was on time, anyway.

6:20.

There’s a scuffle and scrape, closer than the other noises, and she’s searching with a keen,
hawklike gaze, for a cluster of heads, or a band of scraggly-looking, deserted-island
castaways. A head ducks behind a metal crate, further down the dock. There’s strains of
conversation, heated, by the sound of it, and then a figure appears. She’s down the stairs to
the lower deck in an instant, blood rushing through her ears, blocking out all the sounds of
the water and the marina below.

It’s him!! A part of her sings, triumphant, victorious, headstrong. It can’t be , she argues, can
it?

She comes around the corner, breath high and fluttering, and he’s so close, really, and she
wants it to be him so, so badly. The gun tucked into the back of his camo shorts gives her
pause, and that’s certainly not the shirt JJ was wearing the last time she saw him and honestly,
where the fuck did that stupid fucking hat come from?
But then he’s turning, and he’s seeing her, and her heart beats in glorious recognition. It’s
him! It’shimIt’shimIt’shim!! The breeze tosses her hair across her face and she pushes it away,
his name bubbling up and out of her mouth.

“JJ?” He stops dead, and he’s just standing there, staring at her, like she’s a ghost, or maybe a
dream, some apparition he can’t believe is real. He reaches up, pushing back that ridiculous
hat, and somewhere, beneath the disbelief and the vibrant, impossible joy, she is reminded of
her grandfather’s old John Wayne movies, the part where the rugged cowboy returns home to
see his long-lost love waiting for him on the porch of their white clapboard home, having
saved herself.

It’s him .

“JJ.” It’s a whispered confirmation, a grateful prayer. “J…” Thoughts escape, and the only
thing that matters is going to him, throwing herself into his embrace, holding him, warm and
solid and close. And safe. As quickly as she can, she’s off the side of the boat, barely feeling
the warm concrete of the dock under her bare feet. He moves toward her on instinct, his eyes
never leaving hers, steps smooth and sure as he opens his arms for her. In a few steps, she’s
crashing into him, overwhelmed with the scent of salt and sweat and something so unique
and inherent to JJ she’s never bothered to name it.

She chokes down a sob of relief, and she can hear his laughter, pure and incredulous joy. In
anger, in pain, in fury, in sadness, JJ laughs, and the sound has never been sweeter. Her arms
squeeze tight around his shoulders, and his grip around her waist is so tight she can’t breathe,
but she doesn’t care.

“I’m so glad you’re safe.” The words leave him in a rush, said on an impulse, spoken before
they are thought. It feels as though he has read her heart and spoken aloud the words she
wished to say to him. She can’t help but laugh, a high, watery sound, unsure of itself and
beautiful still.

“Wow!” she says, pulling away from him, but not far. His hands land on her shoulders for a
moment, dry and rough and warm, everything familiar, and for the first time in days, she feels
safe under his touch. Words fail for a moment as she looks at him, holding back tears and
sniffing a little. Her hands can’t stay still, and she tucks her hair behind her ears before
putting her hands on either side of his face, rubbing her thumb along his raspy, stubbled
cheekbone. His lips are perfect and pink and so near, and her hands drop to his shoulders,
before she can lose control of herself.

The late afternoon sun is warm and almost tangible at her back, promising comfort and
prosperity and all the usual things that come with an arrival home. His thumbs stroke back
and forth over the backs of her arms, and every place they touch feels bonded, linked, and
how did she ever stop touching him, how did she think that she could live apart from this
beaming, burning boy?

“I didn’t think I’d see you ever again.” It’s an unexpected truth to share, but truth all the
same, and she doesn’t realize it until she says it, that losing him -- losing all of them -- was a
real and terrifying possibility.
JJ barely lets her finish the sentence before he’s reassuring her, golden smile wide and honest,
even as his voice shakes. “Yeah but I’m here now, okay?” he says, not giving her the chance
to answer, pulling her toward him again, crushing her close. Sobs threaten in her own chest as
she clings to him, and he’s holding her so tightly her feet just barely brush the ground.

“It’s alright,” he promises, to himself, maybe, or to her, or to both of them, just in case. “It’s
alright.” He laughs, his tone casual, but he clutches at her just as desperately, one hand tight
on her shoulder, his face pressed against the other, his nose buried in her hair. His arm is
strong and tense across her back and she never wants to let go.

Her head drops against his shoulder, and exhaustion sweeps over her, after days of adrenaline
and fear. Safety is powerful that way, especially at long last, and she never feels more secure
than she does with JJ, pressed against him, locked in the circle of his arms.

Laughter chases the footsteps scrambling toward her, and JJ hears it first, pulling away,
directing her attention toward the rest of the pogues barrelling down the dock. With a final
squeeze of his shoulder, she steps away, his arm unraveling slowly, his hand trailing over the
small of her back as he lets go.

If she wasn’t so overwhelmed, she’d notice the butterflies that explode upward at his
lingering touch, notice the way his eyes trail down her body as she steps away, notice the way
grief collapses at the loss of her. But her friends are in front of her, laughing and stumbling
and wonderfully whole, and JJ is behind her, her protector, her knight, her loyal legionnaire,
and this is home, this wonderful laughing tangle of limbs and smiles, this is safety, and she’s
not noticing anything at all.

“Guys!”

She crashes into Pope and Cleo first, and they have to hold her up, she’s so weak in the knees
with relief and delight. After Cleo there’s Sarah, and Kie clings to her almost as tight as she
did to JJ. The bond she shares with Sarah is unmentioned, unspoken, beyond words. What is
the meaning of sisterhood, if not reconnection after strife; if not pure, vitriolic anger
dissolved so quickly into love, and undying loyalty?

John B puts his arms around both of them, his smile wry and small and impossibly grateful.
He must have tried so hard, been so scared. She can’t imagine trying to manage JJ’s chaotic
determination and Pope’s quiet caution, trying to keep Sarah from snapping both of their
necks and Cleo from dragging them all bodily by the shirtfront to the end goal. John B, their
sweet, level headed leader, glad that Kiara has done his work for him, rescued herself and
drawn them to her, grateful for her smile and her strength. Pope and Cleo make themselves
bookends, and then JJ finally musters forward, presentable from shock and grief and joy once
again, to make them whole.

“Thought you were dead,” Pope mumbles. She can feel his hot tears on her bare shoulder,
and time stops, just for a moment, as Kiara revels in the love of her small, broken family,
united once more.
 contemplating the impossible
Chapter Summary

It’s probably stupid, to look at your best friend, who is also the girl you’ve loved for
like, probably your whole freakishly cruel, short life, and feel like you’ve fallen for her
all over again because she holds some part of you you’ll never be able to explain, but JJ
does it anyway. Just for a second, before he has to look away, and force himself not to
say something idiotic.
-
There’s something lying beneath the surface. Something that has gone unsaid for a long,
long time. Squashed down so far it almost doesn’t feel real anymore, more like an old
scar than a fresh wound. Something old so recently unearthed it hasn’t even been dated
yet. Something she felt when she crashed into his arms on the dock.

Chapter Notes

guess who's back (back back)

back again (gain gain)
INTERNAL MONOLOGUE FIC IS BACK, BABY!

we are finding a new fighting, writing spirit in 2024, babes.

“So, you sure that you didn’t tell him where the diary is?” JJ asks, tying off a line.

He crosses the deck toward her, full of nervous energy. If he’s being honest, he’s barely
calmed down from earlier, finding her safe and whole, and then being shot at, fucking again ,
and then having to leave John B. The breezy, open water makes him almost feel at home, like
he’s with his dad on a test drive, or out deep-sea fishing. Except, of course, this boat is bigger
and nicer than any he’s been out on maybe in his life. JJ’s thoughts are usually a scramble,
but the noise in his head seems deafening, and it’s making him twitchy.

“Told him I’d seen it,” Kie answers from behind the wheel, gesturing with one hand. “But I
didn’t tell him where.”

Hopping up to grab the roof over the bridge, he swings himself a few feet forward, meeting
Kiara’s gaze for a second before landing again, and looking away. His heart always beats
harder at the sight of her, but it seems to thunder in his ears as she smiles at him. The thought
of losing her, and then worse, the thought that he couldn’t save her -- it’s undone years of
work, years of shoving down his feelings to make himself bearable, normal to be around, but
now…

Now, all it takes is meeting her eyes to make him nervous and shaky. Like a fucking kid.

“So why does Singh want it so much?” he asks before sitting down next to her. In this, at
least, muscle memory has won out. Not too close as to be unnerving, not too far away as to
seem stilted or afraid. He props his feet up, spreading his arms across the back of the bench.
Y’know. Casual.

“Singh said that he thinks the diary has a clue…” Kie pauses, and JJ is listening, really, on the
surface, he is, but the sun is setting to the west and Kie is just… fuck. Just so fucking pretty .
“...to the location of some city of gold.”

It takes him a second to realize what she’s just said, but she goes on, skepticism indicated
with the small gestures of her hands.

“Like, the gold on the Merchant was just a small part of it.”

“...Okay,” JJ starts, attempting, somehow, to recap, “so the diary we have leads to a 500-year-
old treasure that no one’s ever found?” He’s skeptical, too, but excitement grows, all the
same.

They found the Merchant gold. In a murderer’s fucking basement , no less. No, scratch that,
in a well in a murderer’s fucking basement. Pope found the fucking Cross of Santo fucking
Domingo in a support beam in an abandoned church. And then almost died from an allergic
reaction. They’ve (nearly) successfully hijacked an entire cargo ship, spent a month on a
deserted island, survived a plane crash, and then Kie broke herself out of a fucking compound
owned by Walmart Pablo Escobar.

So yeah, maybe they could find El Dorado. Sure.

“Pretty much,” Kie agrees, nodding, and all he needs is her tone, the silly, adorable look on
her face, to know she’s thinking the same thing. It’s probably stupid, to look at your best
friend, who is also the girl you’ve loved for like, probably your whole freakishly cruel, short
life, and feel like you’ve fallen for her all over again because she holds some part of you
you’ll never be able to explain, but JJ does it anyway. Just for a second, before he has to look
away, and force himself not to say something idiotic.

“I’m in,” he says, so used to repression that it’s second nature to bat the feeling away and talk
about something else. “It’s kind of like my best option at this point, so…” he looks at her
again, swallowing the brief tick of warmth that comes from meeting her eyes, and then leans
forward, fiddling with something. “Definitely beats sitting in geometry class.”

“Yeah, beats boarding school,” Kie says as JJ stands up. Not for any reason, really. Mostly
because he’s pretty much allergic to sitting still. The idea of Kie being sent away is heinous,
towering and terrifying, and he slips by it, like she hasn’t said it all.
“I mean, I don’t even know what’s gonna happen when we get back to the OBX,” he says,
scratching nonchalantly at the back of his head. There’s panic rising at the thought of it, but
he knows the taste of it, and how to choke it down. “Nothing good. I can tell you that.”

He glances over his shoulder at her, because he can’t stop himself. Because he wants to, even
though he’s shaken and riled and close to doing something truly moronic, like telling her how
he feels. Fuck. Just her eyes .

“Nothing good.”

“Shit’s gonna suck for like a year,” Kie agrees, easy, unaffected, and JJ remembers that she’s
17, now, after this summer. They all are, except him. A year he could do, maybe. Crash at the
Chateau, maybe get his old job back cleaning kook boats, just til he turns 18. Except, he’s got
closer to two years left, at least closer than the rest of them, and then what? It’s not like he
can go anywhere, anyway.

“At least you don’t got restitution though,” he reminds her, and he knows it’s coming from an
angry, bitter place, but at least Kie has a future. At least, if she decides she wants one, and
stops hanging around with the people that keep dragging her off to deserted islands, the
people that she hijacks ships with and steals boats for. As long as she stops hanging around
people like him.

“No job,” JJ goes on, “no parents.” He squints towards the sun. “Yeah, arrows are gonna be
comin’ in hot.” He looks at her then, and her face is so worried, so concerned, that the anger
dissolves, a little at first, and then all at once. It’s not her fault she has something he doesn’t.
And it’s not like the future her parents are offering comes without caveats, anyway.

“But you know what we do when arrows come flyin’?” he asks, and then, because he can’t
stand to see her sad, starts acting like he’s knocking them out of the air with his hands. “Ding.
Ding, ding ding!” He hears her laugh, just a little, a heavy exhale, but it makes him smile,
relieves the coiled tension in his chest. Lifting himself up on the support struts, he kicks his
legs out like a demented, poorly-trained ninja. “Ding!”

“Oooh, quick!” Kie says, pointing at him, and there’s that smile that he loves, the small,
sweet one he knows so well. His favorite.

“And you shoot right back at ‘em,” JJ finishes, glad they’re back in familiar territory, back on
solid ground. The teasing, the laughing, the goofy, stupid bits they do, the things he knows
best -- it puts to rest all the worry and all the bullshit still lingering from their departure from
the island, from all the crap on Barbados. The feelings still lingering from losing Kie. It feels
good, to laugh and play and make jokes. It feels good to remind himself that she’s here, that
she’s okay, that they go back to how they were before.

“And if a spear comes at you, you plant,” he says, planting his feet and slapping his thighs to
prove a point, “grab, disarm, straight into the jugular, finish them off like hyah !”

He finishes acting out the motion just as a gust of wind unsteadies the boat. Reaching for Kie
on instinct, JJ misses her hand, catching her waist as she stumbles into him. His other hand
searches for a heart-stopping moment before landing on the wheel, and she wraps her arm
around his back. For a second, she’s still smiling, her hair blowing across her face, but then
her expression grows serious.

She’s so close, sunkissed and soft, and all the rules he’s followed for years… The rules…
Godamnit, the rules! He can’t keep his eyes off her lips, and the wanting her, the needing her,
usually dull background noise, normal, commonplace -- it’s a raw wound, aching, bleeding,
damn near pouring out of him, and they’re alone, and she’s standing in his arms, and she
hasn’t moved away. She’s looking at his mouth, and that must be a coincidence, it has to be,
but he feels like a goddamn king, standing here, holding her steady, a gravitational point that
will always keep her anchored, and catch her when she falls.

“Just one by one,” he says, and he’s not really sure where the words are coming from,
because he can feel the heat of her, seeping through her insubstantial clothes, through the
worn washed-thin cotton of his stolen shirt. Her hand at his back feels like a brand, and the
curve of her waist fits perfectly into the bend of his elbow, familiar, yes -- he’s hugged and
held Kie a hundred times -- but still thrilling. “We’ll defeat ‘em all.”

“Y’know whatever happens,” Kie says, and there’s a weight in her voice he hasn’t heard
before. “We’ll handle it together.”

She’s definitely looking at his lips now, he’s not making it up, and this, her proximity, the
dazed, dream-like look on her face, this was never in the cards, never on the page of the story
he knows. She’s not supposed to be leaning in, not supposed to tilt her face up like that and
look expectant, and the panic is back and he’s bleeding, he’s bleeding, he’s bleeding -- he
wants her. Fuck , he wants her, and she’s so close, and looking at him like that , and he’s only
human, only so strong. But that part of him, the part of him that aches for her, that needs her,
that boyish, foolish part of him, has to stay hidden, cannot be known, because there’s no way,
there’s no way, there’s no way… Right?

“Kie,” he says, his voice low and tight, restrained. He has no idea what he’s going to say
next. We can’t , probably, or maybe Are you sure? , and there’s those three words, too, below
it all, building like a scream in his throat, fighting the chains he’s kept around them for so
many years. His brain is collapsing and exploding like a goddamn black hole, and she’s not
moving away, and he isn’t either and --

“Hey.”

Whipping around, a thousand years of words live and die in JJ’s throat as he sees Pope
standing on the lower deck. JJ jerks himself away and something in him crumbles as he
watches Pope’s face fall. Everything feels sped-up and surreal, and the look on Pope’s face
makes JJ sick to his stomach. He was right. At least, a part of him was. They shouldn’t -- they
can’t -- Kiara Carrera, kissing JJ Maybank? It’s laughable. But then he went and got that
close to her, tried to make her laugh, held onto her for way too long, and now Pope is looking
at him like a kicked fucking puppy, and why didn’t he think of that? Why didn’t he think ?
Pope and Kie -- that was barely a month ago, and JJ had the nerve, the unmitigated gall , to
think, even for a second, that loving her was right.

“Just wanted to let you guys know that we should probably stop for gas.” Pope is angry. Pope
is furious, and he has every right to be, but JJ still wishes that he wasn’t.
 JJ can’t look at him. Can’t look at him, or Kie, and Pope is staring at the both of them,
disappointed, angry. Unafraid. Kie turns away, probably angry, too, that JJ dared to get that
close. ( She leaned in too , a part of him argues. She wanted you to kiss her. He silences it.
Violently and quickly.) It’s his fault, all of this hurt, his responsibility to fix.

“Pope, I, uh… Yeah. Uh…” Curses and insults stream viciously through his head. Reduced to
a stuttering idiot. Can’t even clean up his own mess, can’t even fix his own mistakes.

“Yeah.” It’s cold, that word, deep freeze, full shutdown, and JJ knows that tone all too well.
Growing up, it meant it was time to stop fucking talking, and find a place to hide. Pope walks
away.

“Pope?” JJ tries, because Pope isn’t his father. Pope is his friend, his brother, his family in the
right way, so he tries. “Hey Pope?” The answering silence isn’t a surprise, but it still hurts, as
it always has. JJ’s heart races and he wants to reach into his chest and squeeze down until it
stops. A voice in his head -- Kie’s voice, honestly, but he can’t think about that right now --
reminds him to breathe. He tries, in through the nose, out through the mouth. He can’t let her
hear, cause if he does, she’ll do what she always does when he’s like this, and wrap her arms
around him and take deep breaths until he can too. A part of him, that little boy, that selfish
monster from before, almost wishes for it, but if he touches her now, shame and guilt will
burn up from his bones until his skin withers and floats away in the wind.

He rubs at his forehead, cursing under his breath. Kie turns away, and that hurts, too, because
she’s so pissed at him, so sickeningly disgusted, that she can’t look at him any longer. He
can’t look at her as he takes a few steps forward, leaning across the steering column.

“I’ll talk to him.”

He can’t fix it, not something like this, and he hates himself so much in this moment, so
fucking much because what the fuck was that, Maybank? You spend how many years burying
this secret, keeping it locked down so hard and so far that no one ever even questioned it, and
now you slip? It’s the least he can do, taking that burden from her, taking the fault, the blame,
the fall. It’s what he’s always done for his friends.

He’s usually the one getting them into trouble anyway, the bare minimum is sparing them the
responsibility of stepping up for punishment. That’s JJ’s job. That’s what he was made for,
what he was raised for, what his shitbag-asshole-dickwad father made him into. The
punching bag, the target, the goddamn fall guy. He’ll take this from her, shoulder this burden
because he doesn’t know how to do anything else. It wasn’t her fault, anyway.

He hates this part of him, too. Hates that it’s always him at the bottom of the barrel, standing
with the shortest stick. He’ll never outgrow this destiny, never shirk this fate. Whatever. At
least he’ll be able to live with himself.
“So, you sure that you didn’t tell him where the diary is?” JJ asks, tying off a line. He’s asked
a version of that question probably half a dozen times, all nervous energy, flitting from one
end of the boat to the other. Kie has answered briefly every time, but now, her own nerves
channeled into holding the wheel steady, she’s ready to say more.

“Told him I’d seen it.” She tracks his movements as he swings from the roof to land just in
front of her. “But I didn’t tell him where.” She allows herself the small smile that’s been
playing at her lips since she was reunited with the Pogues. Bites back the hysterical laugh
that threatens to break free. She could yell into the wind - just scream at the top of her lungs.
She’s just escaped from being kidnapped after being stranded on a desert island, she’s
wearing silk pajamas a strange man bought for her, she doesn’t have any shoes, and she’s
free. But something is wrong . Several things are wrong. They’re all still lost at sea. They had
to leave John B behind. There’s another Big Bad Guy after them. Just to name a few. But
something is wrong with JJ .

He sits near her, all loose limbs and forced nonchalance. “So why does Singh want it so
much?” Kie knows that isn’t what he wants to say. There’s something lying beneath the
surface. Something that has gone unsaid for a long, long time. Squashed down so far it
almost doesn’t feel real anymore, more like an old scar than a fresh wound. Something old so
recently unearthed it hasn’t even been dated yet. Something she felt when she crashed into
his arms on the dock. She smiles.

“Singh said that he thinks the diary has a clue…” She takes a breath, soft and shaky and
meets JJ’s eyes. There’s softness there, as if he can’t believe he’s looking at her. She almost
can’t believe it herself. Just a few short hours ago, she was certain she’d never see him again
- never see any of the Pogues again. And maybe this whole treasure hunt — the very thing
that got them into this mess to begin with — is a load of bullshit. But maybe it isn’t. She
turns back to the wheel, looking out over the ocean. “...to the location of some city of gold.
Like… the gold on the Merchant was just a small part of it.”

“Okay…” she hears JJ say, and she can practically feel the excitement building. The buzzing
in his limbs driving him to chase that next thrill. She knows that feeling too -- the adrenaline
coursing through her veins. “So the diary we have leads to a 500-year-old treasure that no
one’s ever found?”

He’s hooked. She knew he would be from the second Singh told her about it. “Pretty much.”
She nods, looking back at him. She can see the gears turning, the rundown of every
contingency, the fantasies of what you could do with all that gold running rampant through
that pretty golden head. She knew telling him meant they would go looking for the treasure.
There was no considering it, mulling it over. The second he heard it, it was as good as
decided. The raw desire for adventure… that’s something she always -- well, something she
admired about JJ.

“I’m in.” Kie can’t help the quirk of her lips. Of course he is. “It’s kind of like my best option
at this point, so…” he backpedals, pretending not to be so very interested. “Definitely beats
sitting in geometry class.” He fiddles with something on the steering column, shoulder very
plainly not brushing her hand. She could just reach out and touch him if she wanted. Assure
him that his excitement is warranted. Tell him she’s glad to be back. To have this back. Just
them against the world for however long it will last. It would be so easy to place a hand on
his shoulder. That one little gesture wouldn’t mean much, right? It wouldn’t change anything
between. Wouldn’t mean more than a smile; a way to say, It’s alright. It would be so easy.
She doesn’t move, though.

“Yeah, beats boarding school,” she says because she can’t help it. They’re going home now,
back to reality and school and police and parents who are angry -- so, so angry. This perfect
bubble that is just theirs oh-so-close to shattering.

JJ freezes for a nanosecond when he hears her, and Kie immediately regrets mentioning being
sent away.

“I mean, I don’t even know what’s gonna happen when we get back to the OBX.” He’s trying
to brush it off. Anything could happen , he seems to be saying. Anything: like her parents
miraculously not being angry with her, or no longer having the police on their asses.
Unlikely, unlikely. Maybe he means something else entirely. Maybe the way he won’t look at
her means something. Maybe she wishes he really meant anything. Anything at all. “Nothing
good. I can tell you that.” With the shortest of glances back at her, she feels laid open and
bare. He sees her and he knows her. “Nothing good,” he repeats.

She has to swallow it down again, that urge to reach out to him. Maybe she would say, It’ll be
alright. My parents can’t be that mad. Even though she knows it isn’t true. But he has his
own shit to deal with, right? Sure, he’s probably worried for her, but that’s not his only
concern. A hand on his arm isn't going anywhere or fix anything. It’s not going to magically
make him feel better. All she can do is commiserate. “Shit’s gonna suck for like a year.”

“At least you don’t got restitution though,” he says, and there it is -- all his worries coming to
the surface. Of course he’s thinking about that. She shouldn’t have brought up her rich kid
woes. “No job. No parents,” JJ continues, and she feels worse with each new thing he
mentions. Boarding school is the least of his worries. She nods, fighting to keep her face as
neutral as she can because she knows — she knows — the last thing he wants is pity. But that
little line between her brows just won't be smoothed over.

Boarding school be damned, what is going to happen to the others when they get back? She
and Pope are the only ones with parents around. JJ might not even have a home by the time
they reach North Carolina. He doesn’t deserve that. He doesn’t deserve any of the hardships
life has thrown at him.

He’s still talking, “Yeah, arrows are gonna be comin’ in hot.” Kie hates the image of JJ
standing alone, defenseless, an onslaught of fiery arrows headed straight for his chest. “But
you know what we do when arrows come flyin’?” He sounds so serious, she almost answers
him, but then he’s jumping up, hands flying - “Ding. Ding, ding ding!” - knocking those
imaginary arrows out of the air before they can even scratch him. He pulls up on the supports
again, kicking out at the enemies’ barrage for good measure. “Ding!”

Kie can’t help the smile that breaks out across her face. “Ooh, quick!” she exclaims. He
seems so proud of himself, like all he’s ever wanted to do was make her smile. His smile in
return is as bright as the sun. This . She knows this. She can do this. Laugh with him, smile
with him. Be with him.
“And you shoot right back at ‘em,” JJ says. “And if a spear comes at you, you plant —“ She’s
laughing. He always knows just what to say to break the tension, to bring her back, to make
her laugh. He grounds her. “— grab, disarm, straight into the jugular, finish them off like
hyah !”

She can’t fight that urge now. Laughter bubbling in her chest, she follows the pull toward
him. That pull that’s always been there, if she’s being honest. Kie and JJ. After all they’ve
been through, it feels natural. This next step forward.

Without her hands on the wheel, the boat lurches. JJ stumbles forward, and without meaning
to, Kie’s hand comes up to steady him, wrapping around his side. One of his hands lands on
her hip, the other on the steering column. The breeze sweeps his hair off his forehead. His
eyes hold hers so intensely her mouth goes dry.

“Just one by one,” he says, so softly. She watches his lips form the words, but she can barely
hear him. “We’ll defeat ‘em all.”

“Y’know whatever happens,” Kie says, the words coming slow, careful. She isn’t even sure
why she’s saying it. Just like that magnetic pull toward him, she needs him to know this, too.
“We’re gonna handle it together.” He leans in, lips parting. She can hear her heart pounding
in her ears. His hand trembles where it rests on her hip, or is she the one shaking? He leans
even closer, or she does. She doesn’t know who moves first, and she doesn’t care. His lips
look so soft and pink. “Like we always do,” she mumbles.

His nose nearly brushes hers. Her name leaves his lips in a breath, like a prayer, a plea. He’s
going to say something. He’s going to say something and try to stop her, but they’re so close
now. She could close the gap in a second. Damn Pogue rules, damn what her parents might
think, damn what anyone would say, including JJ. She wants this. She didn’t even know this
was something she could want until she almost lost him forever. But ever since she fell into
his arms back on the dock she’s felt sure that this — this pull, this heat, this whatever it is —
this is right. So before JJ can try to convince her otherwise, she determines to lean in, to—

“Hey.”

Pope’s voice is jarring, cold and steely. Or maybe it isn’t and the shock of the wind against
Kie’s body as JJ jumps back from her is what chills her to the bone. She hears Pope sigh,
watches JJ’s shoulders fall, and she tucks her lower lip between her teeth. What can she say?
What should she say? She and Pope were together (if you could call it that) only a month
ago, and here she is nearly… nearly kissing his best friend. It doesn’t matter how right it
feels, that’s a low blow. She can see it written all over his face.

“Just wanted to let you guys know that we should probably stop for gas.” Pope’s words are
measured. He’s upset because of course he is. He’s not going to yell, he’s not going to scream
and demand a fight, but he’s angry. He’s hurt. And Kie can’t look at him. She can’t look at
him because she doesn’t feel sorry enough. It doesn’t feel wrong enough for her to never
want to do it again. God, her ex is staring her in the face and all she can think about is the
sunshine boy she almost kissed.
She can’t look at JJ either. Not because she’s ashamed, but because if she does, she’ll jump
right back in where she started. He calls after Pope, apologetic. He’ll make amends because
that’s what JJ does. He might be hot headed and impulsive, but he can’t stand for someone to
be mad at him. And that makes her want to kiss him all the more.

Kie knows she should talk to Pope. Even as JJ says, “I’ll talk to him.” voice sure and steady.
She nods in response to JJ, that crease settling back in between her eyebrows. This hurts. It
aches in her chest in a way she can’t put into words. Caught between two of her best friends,
people she’s built her life around and with. Is kissing JJ worth losing Pope? Their existence is
so woven together that she can’t fathom being without either of them.

The setting sun practically reflects off the back of JJ’s head as he follows Pope down the
stairs. He looks so pure and golden. A wave of relief washes over her, even as her gut
twinges in guilt. She knows she should be the one to smooth things over, but JJ is so certain,
so sure. No hesitation in his step as he goes after his friend, talks to Pope for her . She’s
worried, of course. She’s worried that Pope won’t accept it. That he’ll be too hurt. She
wouldn’t blame him. It’s so difficult to explain that while she faced nothing but uncertainty
with him, with JJ she has never felt so sure. So much of her life is a question. From the
treasure hunt to boarding school; getting back to the OBX in one piece to seeing John B
again. She doesn’t seem to have any answers, but she can still feel his hand on her hip, touch
burning into her skin, searing into her mind. All those questions with no answers except for
one, and for Kie, JJ has never felt so certain.
End Notes

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