A/N: Howdy. I love the Breakfast Club. I love BenderxClaire. I love this song – 'Creep' by Radiohead. However, loving it doesn't make me own it. Damn.

When you were here before,
couldn't look you in the eye.
You're just like an angel,
your skin makes me cry.
You float like a feather,
in a beautiful world
I wish I was special,
you're so fucking special.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here.

I don't care if it hurts,
I want to have control.
I want a perfect body,
I want a perfect soul.
I want you to notice,
when I'm not around.
You're so fucking special,
I wish I was special.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?.
I don't belong here

She's running out the door,
she's running,
she run, run, run, run, run.

Whatever makes you happy,
whatever you want.
You're so fucking special,
I wish I was special,

but I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here,
I don't belong here.

Bender entered the club. He walked to the bar, ordered himself the stiffest drink he could afford. Not that he could afford much. What a day. He had woken up to the usual screaming that wracked his household. Rolled out of bed with a groan, he had left the house in the same clothes he had collapsed into bed in the night before. Then, to top things off, his car wouldn't start. He had to walk the 20 block trek to his job at the mechanic. He was scolded for being late, got his pay deducted and given one last chance. Knowing him, he'd screw it up. All in all, not the best day. He came to the club so as not to have to go home and deal with his parents.

He looked up; trying to see what dodgy mainstream band was playing. They couldn't hold a tune to save their life. As he turned back, sighing into his drink, he caught sight of a flash of Cherry red hair.

When you were here before,
couldn't look you in the eye.

You're just like an angel,
your skin makes me cry.
You float like a feather,
in a beautiful world

I wish I was special,
you're so fucking special.

Great. Icing on the cake to a terrible day. It had been a month and a half since that fateful Saturday morning, and he had done his best to ignore her. It pained him, it did, but she was better off without him. Better off not having to deal with the stuff he went through. They weren't the same. They had no business even talking to each other.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here.

But hell, just because they weren't talking, didn't mean he couldn't look. And look he did. Damn, he missed her. Missed the feel of her skin, her lips. Her withering gaze, which could be as warm as a summer's day the next moment. He wanted her to notice him. Crap, Claire Standish had gotten him mushy. What the hell, he was stuffed anyway. He was head over heels. Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone, of course.

I don't care if it hurts,
I want to have control.
I want a perfect body,
I want a perfect soul.
I want you to notice,
when I'm not around.

You're so fucking special,
I wish I was special.

He wished they had a chance together. If he was in her social standing then maybe they would. Because he would do anything for her. But only if it could achieve something. Hell, he was going to try. He was going to improve himself, so that she could notice! He was going to get to her level, and they could be together. Like in those chick flicks. What a perfect plan.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?.
I don't belong here

He sunk down to reality. That was never going to happen. And the sad thing was, he, John Bender, knew it. And was giving up.

She's running out the door,
she's running,
she run, run, run, run, run.

He snuck a glance at her. She was picking up her purse, most likely that her daddy bought for her. She payed the bartender for her many martinis and cocktails. She was getting ready to leave. Bender caught a look at her face. She looked almost … empty. As sad as he felt. At that moment, she turned her head and saw him staring at her. "Oh crap," he thought. She started walking towards him, angrily, determined. He watched her fiery face as she got closer. He froze just as she stopped in front of him, fearing she was going to slap him. Needless to say, he was surprised into next century when she grabbed his face and kissed him with as much passion as was showing on her face. He kissed back.

Whatever makes you happy,
whatever you want.
You're so fucking special,
I wish I was special,

Wow. The only coherent thought that went through his head. He wasn't expecting that. She smiled at him, sheepishly, and took his hand. He acquiesced and walked out with her, to her fancy car. He stepped into the passenger seat and looked over at her flushed face. Then he remembered:

but I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here,
I don't belong here.

Yes. He was a creep. A weirdo. He didn't belong.

But he decided he didn't care.