fair/unfair

15.

       Reid woke up to the sound of buzzing.

       He mumbled something unintelligible into the darkness, hand slapping around for his phone. The buzzing got even more insistent, starting up again not even a second after it ended.

       "Okay," Reid grumbled to no one in particular. He sat up, batting the blanket off of his head. He blinked a little at his surroundings and it took a minute for his brain to catch up with the fact that this ... wasn't his room. Shit, did he actually sleep here last night?

       He glanced over at Mal's bed only to find it unoccupied. He didn't have time to wonder where the Fox had gone when his phone started buzzing again.

       "Alright, fuck." He finally found his phone hidden underneath the blanket and he squinted at the bright screen as JAX lit up the caller ID. Still half-asleep, he didn't realize how bad of an idea it was to press Accept Call until he held it up to his ear. "What?"

        "What? What? I'm going to kick your fucking as—"

       Reid pulled the phone away from his ear, rubbing at his eye and yawning idly. He blinked as he checked the time. Shit, it was ten in the morning. It took him half a minute to realize that he was actually on the phone with somebody, and brought it back up to his ear.

       " —ven going to be able to whimper, you fucking hear me?"

       "Sorry, phone cut out." Reid said. His eyes skimmed the room absently, skipping over the decor. He hadn't noticed before but the walls were startling bare, the dresser held an empty surface, even underneath the bed was void of things shoved underneath it. The only thing even remotely personal was the bookshelf tucked in the corner. It took a couple of muted seconds for Reid to realize Jax was waiting for him to reply. "What'd you say?"

       "I SAID BRING ME MY FUCKING TRUCK, PATTON."

       Oh shit. Reid jumped up off the floor, already scrambling out of gray t-shirt he had borrowed last night. He stopped, frantically scanning the floor for his own t-shirt. He could still hear Jax swearing at him from his phone.

       "Fuck," he cursed. He checked underneath Mal's bed and then behind his dresser, checking under the chair in the corner and then he shook out his blankets at least a couple of times in case he'd missed it.

       "Just take my shirt."

       Reid's head snapped up at Mal's voice and he gaped at the boy, standing in the doorway of the bathroom (which he'd originally assumed to just be a closet). His pajama pants were hanging low on his waist and his hair was a little more managed, as if he'd combed it straight with his fingers. Reid, for all of his fucking morals, tried not to look any lower than his face.

       He hadn't realized he was staring for so long until he realized where Mal's attention was — and the screaming voice still coming from the receiver. Shit.

       He darted for the phone, lifting it to his ear. "Jax, I gotta go."

       " — SWEAR TO GOD, PATTON, IF YOU HANG UP ON ME —"

       "I'll bring you your truck in a half hour, alright? I have to go."

       "DON'T YOU FUCKING HANG UP ON M—"

        Reid ended the call, standing there for a second with silence at his shoulder, before he finally turned to look at Mal again. The Fox was watching him with muted interest, as if he wanted to ask what the phone call was about, but didn't want to seem like he actually cared.