Breaking Through Limits (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 5

"Welcome to the Needlers' lounge. Can I get you anything? Caffeine brew? Nicosticks? Happy meds to keep your newbie from freaking out?" The tall, thin cadet standing in the narrow metal doorway gave Harry an appraising look, which Harry returned with a frown.

"Very funny, Webs. Just let us in." Tomlinson didn't look amused.

"Fine, be that way. Come on in." Harry watched in surprise as Webs, obviously another Needler, gave Tomlinson a casual kiss on the corner of his mouth and stood aside. Tomlinson pushed past him but as Webs leaned in to peck Harry on the mouth as well, Tomlinson's hand shot back and hit the thin Needler squarely in the chest.

"Don't touch him."

"Why not?" Webs frowned. "He's a Needler now too, isn't he?"

"He will be." Tomlinson's ice blue eyes flickered over Harry for an instant. "But that doesn't matter. He's off limits, Webs. Spread the word."

"Will do." Webs was looking at him with more interest now, as though Harry were an exotic new confection he'd like to taste. Jaw clenched, Harry stared back at him. He wasn't used to other guys giving him that look. The same look he'd give to a pretty girl if he was Earth-side.

"And stop looking at him like you want to lick him or you're going to have a fight on your hands." Tomlinson's voice was flat. He grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him into the small room past the tall, thin Needler.

Harry, whose hands had been clenching for a punch, was both relieved and disappointed. Dinner in the mess hall with about a hundred other noisy cadets hadn't done a thing to relieve the incredible tension he'd built up at the target range. While his new partner talked blandly about the design and flight properties of the standard M-class Needle, Harry had been fuming. What he really wanted was a good fight to take the edge off and some asshole trying to kiss him would have given him the perfect excuse to start one. By the expression in Tomlinson's eyes when he turned his head to look at Harry, he knew exactly what Harry had been thinking. 

"Come on, Styles," he murmured, tugging at Harry's arm. "I brought you here to make friends, not enemies. Like it or not you're a Needler now and you're going to need the support of your rankmates to make it."

"I don't need anybody," Harry muttered resentfully. But he let himself be towed into the small, metal-walled room completely different from any other space he'd seen so far at the Academy.

The Needlers' lounge looked like whoever had decorated couldn't decide if they were left-brained or right-brained. The area was strewn with colorful air cushions that actually looked comfortable in contrast to every other piece of furniture Harry had seen since stepping off the transport. As if to offset the color near the floor, the walls were decorated with stark black-and-white flow charts of Needle specs. He could also hear what sounded like soothing zitherphone music coming from one of the overhead speakers, which was just weird. Apparently the other Needlers had very electic tastes. Harry began to feel as if he had somehow wandered into a different world - one as different from the ordered and hard-nosed outer façade  of the Academy as possible. The question was, did he really belong here?