The Archivist

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Oh, this was great fun.

Alex stood under a tree, invisible to those around him as he watched the little intruder clean up the last of the fire wood. It was a simple thing. Taking one log out of the stack as Morgan chopped, and giving it a little shove to send it toppling over onto his unsuspecting victim. He could still hear the, admittedly creative, swearing as Morgan dug themselves out and started restacking.

This little shit won't make it a week with Alex's meddling.

Good.

Violent fantasies started to fill the monster's head as he glared at the farm hand. It would be so easy. A blink, and they would be gone. Or Alex could stretch this out. Pause the world as he showed Morgan exactly why people don't fuck with his family. His fingers started to itch with barely controlled anticipation as he watched the last of the wood be stacked.

It was then that he spotted his father coming over the hill, looking like he had just come from the neighbor's house. It was clear the old man was unhappy, but the way his wizened face twisted into a smile as Morgan greeted him was enough to make Alex pause.

Right. His parents seemed to really love this intruder. They wouldn't forgive him for murdering Morgan, so he had to play this carefully.

Alex threw off his invisibility as the two talked, and he started towards them, not catching much of the conversation.

"I was actually going to ask if I could borrow the truck today."

The words from Morgan made rage flair inside Alex as he stepped up behind the other. The bastard was trying to steal the truck... again.

"Where do you need to go?" Alex asked, a smile plastered across his face. It gave him no end of pleasure to see those green eyes turned to him, a flash of fear showing before Morgan managed to smile back.

"I need to run a few errands in the city."

Alex had to admit, the poker face was very good, but he knew the truth. The farmhand wanted out of this situation and away from the monster in front of them. "Perfect!" He said, giving the other a bright grin. "I was headed out that way too. I'll give you a lift."

The perfect poker face shifted just a hair as Morgan nodded. "...That sounds great." They said, sounding as if they really meant it.

"Good!" Mr. Stewart cut in, the only one of the three who's bright grin was honest. He clapped a hand on Alex's shoulder, looking between the two younger people. "I'm glad the two o'ya are getting along so good! Y'all 'll be best friends in no time."

Alex's gaze never left Morgan's, and he felt a thrill of victory crawl through him at the subtle slumping of the other's shoulders. Defeat.

"Of course, we will." To Morgan's credit, they sounded genuine. "Just let me change clothes, and then we can go."

Mr. Stewart gave the two a pat on the back before heading inside, and Morgan walked down towards the guest house.

With his father gone, Alex dropped the friendly facade, glaring at the farm hand as they left. Once the other was out of sight, he moved to get his car. It was very out of place on the quaint little farm. Sleek, and shiny, and horrendously expensive. If Alex had it his way, the whole farm would be like that. His parents would want for nothing, but they refused to let him do anything like that. His father wouldn't even let him replace that old truck, claiming it was special to him. That truck was how he met Alex's mother.

The same truck Morgan had tried to steal.

Alex pulled up in front of the guest house and waited. It was only a few minutes before Morgan came out, in loose jeans and a shirt that looked like they'd picked it up off the floor, given it a sniff, and pulled it on. The green eyes scanned the car with a skeptical look before the farmhand climbed in, arranging an over the shoulder bag on their lap before buckling up.

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