Archive of Our Own ^beta

Now that the team was functioning as ‘a single organism,’ as Dylan had pressed for so long, he thought for sure that the many headaches, stresses, and days of playing referee between the Horsemen were done. He was no idiot, he knew there would be the occasional squabble, but he had hoped, so hoped, that that would be it.

He was very, very wrong.

He began to realize how wrong the day they set off for the Eye headquarters, where they’d been summoned after they had cleared things up in London. They didn’t dare try to take a plane back to China; Interpol and the FBI and every other agency both within and outside of the US with a price on their heads was watching the airports. They ended up going via ferry, pretending to be workers and slipping away as soon as they docked in France. From there, it was a series of various cars and trains selected in a near impossible to identify pattern to bring them back to China. They took a very roundabout path, which, while very helpful to avoid getting arrested, was not helpful when five people often found themselves crammed into a tiny vehicle together for hours on end. This came to a head in Germany.

Right off from the start, Dylan knew there would be trouble. It was just in the air that morning. Lula, who was in very clear objection to having to get up so early, had called shotgun so she could put her feet up on the dash and fall asleep. Dylan thought that position had to be uncomfortable, but didn’t object.

Then there were the boys. Jack and Merritt were more than happy to take the back two seats, where they were planning to practice various tricks and overall spend the majority of the day giggling like a couple of teenagers up to no good. Dylan had groaned, issued a warning that they were to leave him alone as he was driving, and left them to it. He knew that Atlas, who had elected to sit in the very back and work over his notes and latest tricks in solitude, would not be so lucky.

Sure enough, they were barely ten minutes into the drive before Atlas pulled out one earbud and snapped, “Stop trying to hypnotize me, Jack, it’s not going to work.”

Dylan rolled his eyes but didn’t interfere.

A moment later Atlas yelped, and Merritt howled.

“Top bunk stays mine!” He crowed.

“Doesn’t count!” Jack yelled. “It doesn’t count! You’re two feet away from him, man. You gotta be farther.”

“That was not a part of the agreement,” Merritt retorted smoothly.

Dylan glanced back in the rearview mirror just in time to see Atlas fling a card back at Merritt and Jack in annoyance. His eyes met Dylan’s in the mirror, and Dylan almost took pity on the plea for help in them.

Within moments the car descended into chaos. Merritt and Jack started throwing cards at each other, pausing every few minutes to launch some at Atlas. Atlas began to yell at them to stop, and Lula, who Dylan had decided was his favorite for the time being, woke up.

“The hell are you three doing?” she demanded. “I’m trying to sleep.”

Three sets of fingers were simultaneously being pointed as everyone tried to win Lula to their side. Lula, for her part, rolled her eyes, crawled halfway back to grab Merritt’s hat, and then repositioned herself back in her seat with said hat over her eyes. Merritt pouted but didn’t grab it back, and Dylan sighed in relief, thinking that the madness was over.

That was until he looked over and saw Lula shuffling Jack’s favorite deck of cards in her lap. He stifled a groan, counting out the moments until Jack noticed their absence.

It didn’t take long.

“Where are my cards?” Jack demanded a moment later. “Merritt!”

“Wasn’t me, man.” Merritt held up his hands in a gesture of innocence.

“Atlas?”

“I’m all the way back here, how am I supposed to lift your cards?” Atlas made absolutely no attempts to disguise his annoyance.

“I believe it’s called magic,” Lula chimed in from the front. Dylan couldn’t help but smile, remembering how Atlas had used a similar line on him during his FBI interrogation, back before Dylan had revealed himself. He was fond of the kid, he was fond of them all, he really was, but damn if he didn’t take a bit of glee from having Atlas’s words thrown back at him from time to time.

“Lula!” Jack lunged forward for the cards, having figured it out. Lula chortled and held them out of reach, instead leaning up to peck Jack on the lips. For a minute they struggled, and Dylan decided to finally put a stop to it when Jack began to crawl forward, blocking Dylan’s view out the rearview mirror.

“Enough!” he snapped. “Jeez, dealing with you guys is like herding a bunch of cats away from an empty box.”

There was a bit of pouting, but everyone settled back in their seats.

“I’m the big, fat, lazy one,” Merritt volunteered. “White and black. Likes to just tan in the sun.”

“That is an image we all didn’t need,” Atlas commented.

Merritt gave him a one fingered salute, and Jack and Lula giggled. Dylan sighed.

“Well you’re a scrawny lanky thing that no one likes,” Merritt said.

Atlas rolled his eyes and stuck his earbuds back in after muttering some retort that Dylan didn’t even want to hear. Dylan wished he had the option of putting on headphones as the rest of the Horsemen began to debate what kinds of cats they would all be. He was asked for his opinion and promptly denied it, not that it kept his own feline persona out of the debate.

Dylan wondered if it would be acceptable to leave them on the side of the road and continue on by himself. He was pretty sure no one would blame him.

Instead he gritted his teeth and turned on the radio to drown out the Horsemen. Which of course led to them complaining about his music choice. He ended up letting Lula take control of the radio, a choice he quickly came to regret.

Maybe he would just crash the car and be done with them once and for all.

They ended up passing through some town whose name Dylan couldn’t pronounce, and while they were stopped at a red light, Dylan caught sight of a McDonalds’ sign. Because of course there were McDonalds everywhere. Like infestations.

Unfortunately for Dylan, Lula caught sight of it too.

“Can we stop and get McDonalds?” she asked.

“No. We’re in a rush.”

“But I need coffee to function. It is not natural to be up this early, Dylan.”

“Go back to sleep. If you needed coffee, you should have gotten some at the safe house this morning.”

Lula and Jack had slept as late as possible, pausing just long enough to grab bagels on their way out. Dylan had eaten a proper breakfast with a nice big cup of coffee, joined by a half asleep Merritt and an Atlas who was still widely dancing around him. Ever since Dylan had almost drowned in Macau- had drowned in Macau- Atlas had been more hesitant around him. And while on the one hand Dylan appreciated not having his every decision questioned, he was more than a little worried. He made a mental note to have a heart to heart with Atlas the next time they had a chance.

He was forced to wrench his mind back to the situation on hand when, from the back where Jack and Merritt were, a chant of “McDonalds, McDonalds!” started up. Soon Lula had joined in, the three of them banging on the interior of the car and screaming at the top of their lungs. Atlas pulled out his earbud.

“I would love something to drink,” he stated. “On Jack.”

He held out the younger man’s wallet, which Dylan had seen him nab when Jack had tried to climb to the front of the car. Jack let out a very undignified screech and scrambled for the wallet. Merritt and Lula cackled.

The light changed to green just as Jack got the wallet back. Atlas, now chuckling, pointed it out, and to Dylan’s horror, all four of them joined the chant.

“McDonalds! McDonalds!”

“Ugh.” With a roll of his eyes, Dylan hit the signal button and swerved into the driveway, eliciting a honk from behind him. Cheers erupted from the others.

Dylan tried to dig up the German word for coffee. It was something he and Fuller had done once, in their early days at the FBI, joking that it was the one thing they needed to be able to ask for in any language. This had resulted in an afternoon on Google Dictionary while Cowen yelled at them from across the office.

Good times, Dylan thought. He was surprised at the tinge of regret coloring the memory.

He pulled into a parking spot as the others started calling up orders. When he climbed out of the car, stretching his arms, no one moved to join him.

Typical. Dylan didn’t bother passing the keys back in so they could turn the engine and heat back on. He started for the store, and when still no one came to help him carry the bazillion items he was supposed to be getting, he decided, screw it.

Two minutes later he emerged with one small black coffee, and absolutely nothing else. The Horsemen were busy doing something-Dylan really didn’t want to know what- so by the time they noticed that he hadn’t gotten anything for them, he was halfway down the road.

“Hey!” Lula was the first to notice. “Where’s my coffee?”

Dylan said nothing, but pursed his lips mischievously as the car erupted into chaos. A part of him regretted his decision, the headache that had been building ever since they’d started for the day had reached new heights, but it was honestly worth it, seeing the looks on their faces.

That was, of course, until Lula reached over and snatched Dylan’s cup right out of his hand, lowering her window and holding it out.

“Turn around,” she ordered. “I want my coffee.”

“I want my shake,” Jack added.

“Are you really holding my coffee hostage?” Dylan asked. He made no attempt at keeping the humor from his voice.

“Yes.” Lula’s chin raised as Dylan’s coffee slipped downward through her fingers. Not far enough that she couldn’t hold onto it, but far enough to let him know she meant business.

He was trying to decide just how important the coffee was to him- it was still freezing outside, and with the wind factored in, the coffee wouldn’t be hot much longer, so was it even worth it to get it back?- when he heard the sound of a car door opening behind him.

“What the-“ Atlas yelped.

“Run, Jack, run!” Merritt hollered.

Dylan twisted just in time to see Jack, who had apparently decided to jump and roll out of the car, sprint back towards the McDonalds. Two different cars nearly hit him before he made it to the other side of the street and onto the sidewalk. The whole time Lula was cackling and Merritt was cheering him on. Even Atlas was laughing. Jack turned to jog backwards just long enough to wave at them.

“You have got to be kidding me!” Dylan skidded to a stop on the side of the road, leaning back and pulling the ajar door shut. He didn’t dare get out to do it. He briefly considered just leaving without Jack, then hit the button to lock all the doors as Lula reached for her handle.

Dammit. Dylan pulled into the nearest parking lot and used it to turn around. By the time he pulled back into the McDonalds Jack was already inside, and the rest of the Horseman bolted to join him. Dylan sighed and took a sip of his coffee, which had been returned to him. It was barely hot anymore, but he wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of going back in to get another.

When they came out, Merritt had his hat back, Lula and Jack were arm in arm, and Atlas was animatedly describing something to them, hands blurring in the air as he spoke. They climbed back in with bags of food and drinks, looking not at all sorry for the torment they’d put their leader through.

“Happy?” asked Dylan dryly.

He received various affirmative sounds, and with a sigh backed out of the parking spot for the second time.

Satisfied, the Horsemen dug into their purchases, and Dylan consoled himself that at least they were quiet and peaceful. That was, of course, until someone yelled from the back, “Hey, who took my fries?”