Disclaimer: Not mine
A/N: It's my first ever slash. In any fandom. Yeah, so maybe taking a movie with really brilliant canon pairings and writing my first slash fic wasn't such a good idea...Please tell me what you think.
Andy was never quite sure how things happened to him. He wasn't sure how he got started in wrestling, because he'd always liked basketball. He wasn't sure what he'd been doing when he ended up in detention that time, or why there had been something special about it. He wasn't sure how he and Allison had ever managed to function in a relationship, because, well, she was Allison and he was him and by all logic it shouldn't have worked at all. And he certainly wasn't sure what had happened last weekend, when his whole world had fallen apart. He wasn't sure what he'd been thinking when he told his father he didn't really give a fuck about wrestling just at that moment, when he was supposed to care about wrestling 24/7. He wasn't sure what he'd been thinking when he and Allison had fought and they'd ended up breaking up. But there was something he was even more unsure about than anything else. He was unsure of why he was currently making out with John Bender in the boy's locker room and 5:37pm on a Tuesday afternoon.
He'd had wrestling, typically, and had taken an especially long shower. By the time he was finished staring blankly at the white tiles on the wall and letting the water run over him, all the other guys were gone. He was left to dry himself off, wrap his towel around his waist, and then sit on one of the wood benches and stare into space again. Sometime during the staring was when Bender had shown up. Bender with his cocky smirk and loping stride, barging in and leaning against the wall with a smug look on his face.
"Well, hello there Sporto," Bender said, grinning and pretending to seem surprised. "Fancy meeting you here."
"Bender, I'm really not in the mood for any of your bull shit today," Andy responded, had sighed and tried to act as if Bender's mere presence didn't piss him off as much as it did.
"What bull shit would that be?"
Andy had realized at the time that not only did Bender being in his general vicinity piss him off, Bender acting innocent pissed him off even more. "Seriously." He was aware how tired he sounded, aware of how exhausted he sounded.
"I just wanted to have a little chat with you, Sporto," Bender advanced on him, still with a smirk but speaking in a tone of voice that was a lot less playful.
"Of course," Andy said, standing up to be at eye level with Bender. "Of course you, of all people, just wanted to chat with me." A shrug from Bender. "What is it you needed to talk to me about so badly that you waited until five thirty?"
"A certain girlfriend of yours – or rather, ex-girlfriend, I believe."
Andy sagged. It was not Bender being an ass for the sake of being an ass, it was Bender actually fucking caring. It was Bender actually fucking caring about something that Andy cared about. "What about Allison?"
"She was upset."
"That happens when people break up, dumb ass. I was upset too." Andy decided that a fake bravado would be helpful when dealing with matters of the heart. It had worked for Bender, hadn't it? And while Andy was deciding this, Bender was deciding to throw a punch.
Andy crumbled to the floor, completely unprepared for the attack. "What the-?"
"You know what, Sporto?" Bender was enraged. Bender was standing over him with his fist still clenched and looking like he wanted to destroy the world. "She fucking likes you. Don't know why, exactly, but she does. What the fuck were you thinking? You don't just break up with someone who likes you that much."
"We weren't communicating, it didn't make sense-" Andy had babbled, his eyes still riveted on the clenched fist.
Bender sat down with a sigh then, running a hand through his hair. Andy had taken the opportunity to get to his feet, and then sit down on another bench across from Bender. "Don't give me that bull shit, Clark," Bender said, the sigh still evident in his voice.
"Well I don't fucking know what else to say, then," Andy had responded, angry about getting lessons about bull shit from John Bender, of all people.
Bender laughed, a laugh that was completely void of humour. "You could have told her you loved her."
"I don't-"
"Don't you?" Bender stared at him, willing him to answer.
"Did you love Claire?" Andy figured that there was only one thing that would make this conversation less awkward, and that was turning the spotlight on Bender.
"Shut the fuck up, Clark."
"Because, you know, of all the people who have a right to lecture me about breaking up with someone who means something to me, you seem like the worst person to do it."
"Shut. The. Fuck. Up."
"If you can toss Claire away like she means nothing to you then-"
Andy had been expecting a punch, but it wasn't what he'd received. Instead of throwing a punch in Andrew Clark's face for the second time in five minutes, John Bender had just leaned across the space between the benches and kissed Andy. And Andy had kissed back because, well, it felt right. It didn't feel like kissing Allison, which was warm and soft, or any of his other girlfriends, which had always been polite and timid – hell no. It was hot, and insistent. It was pent up rage and frustration with each other and themselves, and pretty soon Bender had Andy pinned up against the bright red lockers and Andy was fucking unsure of what the hell he was doing and why it felt like the right thing to do, but he was doing it anyways. Andy had never been good at just kissing people. He was always worried about how he was kissing, if he should keep his eyes open or closed, and whether or not he should try something different or just hold the kiss. With Bender there wasn't anything to think about because it didn't fucking matter – it wasn't really about pleasure and it sure as hell wasn't about love, so there were no inhibitions. They'd crossed a line a long time ago and what he was doing on this side of that line didn't really matter. This kiss was tongues and bites and violent, and violence wasn't something he'd ever had to think about.
Bender pulled away with a ragged breath.
Andy stared at him. "So, what, Bender? Does this mean you love me?" Sarcasm and bravado, who could go wrong with that?
"Don't be such a fucking girl, Sporto," Bender said with a smirk. And with that he was out the door, Andy still breathing hard. And he was back to being unsure.