A/N: Two very manipulative boys/men.

This was going to be a one-shot but it got too big. So I chopped it up into smaller pieces!

Warning: It's Gregstophe- there will be a later rating change, violence, smut, alcohol, cigarettes, swearing, blackmail, being on the wrong side of the law, country houses etc...

The school councillor's office was a common place for miscreants and wrongdoers to end up, listening inattentively to the same rant over and over. So much so that the councillor could have done just to tape it. It would have saved his vocal chords a whole load of strain; he may even have been able to get by a day without aspirin. However, go to the office too much, and you could be facing something different all together.

"What do you have to say about the writing in the toilets?"

"Eet's pretty hilarious."

"Not for the people involved, young man." Mr Mackey frowned, deep-set lines on his face. His thin hair was almost entirely gone, from a mixture of stress, age and living in the fucked up town of South Park. "Craig Tucker didn't find it funny when he discovered it. He was, as you can imagine, very angry."

Christophe grinned - perfect. He leaned back in his chair, arms stretched above his head, radiating the attitude that he didn't care. "'As ze ozer one said anyzing?" he inquired.

"No, he's yet to find out I believe."

Christophe nodded. That would be a beautiful moment.

"So do you admit that you did it?"

He had no chances left. He sat in the councillor's chair a few seconds away from suspension.

He made a move to speak, but just as he was opening his mouth, a bold blond boy burst through the councillor's door, knocking as an afterthought. He gave off an extreme glow of confidence. His face drew your eye, making you explore every inch of its dazzling surface. You would listen to whatever he had to say, because you wanted to hear that stunning musical voice.

"Mr Mackey, sir!"

The councillor sighed; this job was not worth the money. "Can it wait, Gregory, I'm a little busy, mmkay?"

Gregory's wrist moved fluidly, he held up a hand, fingers stretched at equal lengths. Everything he did at that moment was for a purpose; it was all part of his show. "I'm afraid it cannot wait, sir. You see, it was not Christophe who committed the offense, it was I. Mrs Harbach was undoubtedly mistaken."

"Mmkay, Mrs Harbach said she clearly saw Christophe leaving the toilets that day."

"Is it not possible that she merely saw Christophe leaving them having just been to the toilet?"

"I find it hard to believe you wrote it."

Gregory leaned against the door frame, folding his arms in boredom, as if he'd grown tedious of disputing. "I assure you, Mr Mackey, I did it."

Mr Mackey looked in disbelief. "You wrote: 'Gregory Thorne is a faggot with Craig Tucker and they like to fuck in this cubicle?'

Gregory chanced a sharp glare at Christophe, who simply grinned back. God damn, Christophe - he never made it easy. Gregory gritted his teeth. "Yes I did, sir."

"...Why?"

Good question that one. And considering Gregory was thinking on his feet, he had to take a few seconds of silence. "Because Craig deserves it after that stunt he pulled, and I just love to be the centre of attention." Oh how humiliating, he really did hate Christophe DeLorne sometimes.

Mr Mackey did not look like he believed Gregory, but what other choice did he have than let Christophe go when Gregory was openly confessing to it? "You realise that this will have to go on your permanent record, and you will receive detention? Think carefully about whether it's worth it."

Gregory gazed into Christophe's quizzical and slightly guilty green eyes. He sighed. "The truth, Mr Mackey, is always worth it."

"'Ello, Gregory."

Gregory spun around, having just walked out of the councillor's office and slapped Christophe hard across the face. Dark brown leather onto tanned skin. "You bastard." He stalked off towards the school doors - no intention of going back to class - and was of course followed, but then, he knew that would happen.

Christophe rubbed his cheek. "Do you not find it even a leetle funny?"

Gregory kicked open the school doors and pulled his coat collar up to shelter his face from the cold air; it was more for show than anything else. Cold was a state of mind and he'd mastered that years ago. "No." He walked to their usual spot behind the back of the school, and sat down on the concrete. No one ever disturbed them there. It was a dangerous idea to disturb them.

"Mon ami, don't sit on ze cold ground. You'll ruin your lovely ass."

"Fuck off." Wow, he really was annoyed.

"Why don't you sit on my knee instead?" Christophe perched next to Gregory, tapping his legs expectantly.

"I'm not in the mood for your bullshit, unless you've come to grovel and apologise, fuck off."

"I am sorry actually. Thank you for saving me. I wasn't looking forward to 'aving to leave school... and you."

"I don't know why I saved you for that. Writing that I'm a faggot with Tucker? What the hell were you thinking? Do you want to start a fight? I will happily beat the shit out of you with your own shovel." The graffiti had clearly really gotten to Gregory. "You know what? Instead of that, why don't I go find Craig and ask him to give me a nice hard fuck up my 'lovely' ass?!"

Christophe couldn't contain an amused smile at the anger for Gregory to suggest such a thing, which only made Gregory angrier. "Eef you want to, but I don't think Tucker ees ze best man for ze job."

Gregory threw his arms up, smacking Christophe on the back of the head hard. "Couldn't you have used someone else's name to get back at Tucker?"

Christophe smirked. "No, it 'ad to be you."

His face was red with anger. "Why?!"

"So zen I can prove ze rumours wrong by doing zis." Christophe grabbed the back of Gregory's head and slammed their lips together, kissing hard, tangling his fingers through Gregory's perfect blond hair, making the most of those breathtaking seconds before he was pushed away and his friendship came to an end. His heart flipped, as instead of being slapped once more, he heard Gregory musically gasp and then kiss back, clutching at the back of his head.

Well that was unexpected.

"Y-you never do things the easy way, do you?" Gregory panted, moving his lips away for breath, but instantly dipping down to caress Christophe's collar bone, and work up the neck.

Christophe groaned in delight, pulling Gregory onto his lap, because he really did want to keep that lovely ass safe, and throwing his head back. His neck was so sensitive and every brush of Gregory's lips sent shockwaves through him. He groaned again as Gregory bit down on the skin and then sucked at the tender area.

"Zis ees you and me: we don't do easy."

Gregory kissed up Christophe's jaw, stopping to trail his tongue along a recently acquired scar. He moved his lips back up to Christophe's. "No, we certainly do not." He leaned his head back and glared into Christophe's eyes, perhaps keeping up some defences, perhaps just curious. "How is this proving I'm not a faggot?"

"You are a faggot." Christophe pushed his hands up under Gregory's coat, pinching at the skin. "But you're a faggot wiz me, not wiz Tucker."

Gregory gasped, involuntarily jerking himself closer to Christophe in an attempt to escape the pinching, falling straight into the French boy's plan of action. "I'm still annoyed with you," he murmured.

"Zen let me make eet up to you," the French boy purred, moving his hands down to grope below the Brit's back. "I could warm zis ass up for a start."

"I-It's very cold, may take a lot of warming?"

"I'm ze guy for ze job," Christophe raised his eyebrow, "all kinds of jobs."

Gregory smirked. "Are you sure you can handle me?"

Christophe brushed against Gregory's lips. "Can anybody 'andle you?"

Gregory bit into the bottom one impatiently, eliciting a groan from his companion. "Let's just wait and see."

A/N: Yep, the point being that they will be adults in the next chapter, which is much longer (and rated M).