KOTLC Sokeefe One-Shots, Alternate Endings, etc

Legacy 3: part 1 (Keefe POV)

A/N: I won't be writing the entire series from Keefe's POV, I promise. I just realized that writing this whole scene and conversation was too much fun to pass up!

Keefe was lying sprawled out across his bed, staring at the ceiling, contemplating which of the Foxfire Mentors should be the object of his next prank.

He'd been really lax on pranks lately, too busy trying to save the world and fix all the things his mom had touched.

But things seemed to be in a lull right now.

The Neverseen seemed to know they'd messed up with the whole troll hive business, shown the world their cowardice, and so far they had not struck again.

And he hadn't heard from Foster in a week.

Neither had Fitz, which...Keefe tried to pretend didn't make him feel better.

But it totally did.

Obviously, he hoped everything was okay, but at least it meant that she was ignoring everyone, and not just pushing Keefe aside for lots of smoochy-smooch time with Fitz.

Ugh.

Back to prank planning.

Because his dad wanted him to do some empathy exercises.

Or clean his room.

As if his room wasn't this messy mostly because he knew his dad didn't like it.

He'd already spent the morning swimming, and hadn't been able to summon the mental energy to fully dress--simply changing in to some dry pajama pants--or fix his hair.

He wasn't going anywhere or seeing anyone, so what did it matter?

Besides, he'd seen himself in the mirror.

His hair looked good like that, all windblown and sun dried and a bit briny.

He knew Ro was bored, but he didn't care. Keeping Ro entertained wasn't his job.

Just then, there was a subtle knock on his door.

Keefe sighed. Dad again. "Back to nag me already? You seriously need to get yourself a hobby. I hear spelunking's fun. Oooh, or you could try swimming with the krakens! I doubt they'd eat you--but maybe we'll get lucky!"

Keefe enjoyed a brief second of being proud of how he'd come to stand up for himself to his dad, but then...

The door opened.

And Foster walked in, his dad right behind her.

Oops.

"Foster?" he asked, jolting upright--then remembering he didn't have a shirt on. He crossed his arms, feeling oddly exposed even though technically she'd seen him shirtless before--which was not a pleasant memory.

He hated that he felt himself blushing.

"I...um...what are you doing here?"

Ro laughed at him. "Smooth, Lord Hunkyhair. Smooooooooooooth."

Flustered, he began tearing through his sheets, desperately trying to find a shirt.

Thankfully, Ro tossed him one, while commenting on the sweaty boy smell.

Great.

At least Foster promised she didn't care.

"Let this be a lesson to you," his dad sneered. "You should always keep your room--and yourself--at your best, since you never know when you'll need to make an impression."