Chapter One (The Wayward Dick)
Whhasoidaghs;boaiwsja;k whaaaaat am I doingggggggg
I CAN'T RESIST THIS FANDOM or this pairing... OMFG MY BABIES *sobbing*
But I just… what is this rating… omg how write?… WHAT THE HELL IS THAT TITLE? what do. Halp.
What kind of music did he listen to?
The question was so pervasive it hadn't left John's head for a week. He'd tried every manner of trick to rid himself of the pesky inquiry, and when that hadn't worked, had resolved to quell the invasive curiosity by simply answering the question.
Now the real question became how was he going to do that.
Chewing on his pencil he glanced across the aisle towards the object of his current obsession. As if sensing the attention, the blond turned slightly in his seat to scan behind him. John froze, not sure if Dave was looking at him or not; it was impossible to tell with the ever-present, mirror-like shades perched haughtily on his straight, high set nose.
Deciding to be safe rather than sorry John quickly redirected his gaze back to his anatomy book. Staring up at him from the open page was a structural map of the human reproductive system. He blushed a deep red and closed his eye. So not the thing he wanted to see right now. Not like he didn't know what it was or whatever, but also not very high on the list of things he wanted to discuss extensively in class with a bunch of immature high schoolers. As if on cue, just as the thought crossed his mind, a paper ball collided with the back of his head. The crumpled sphere landed lightly on the desk and unfurling it, he saw a crudely drawn dick. Sighing, John folded it neatly and stashed it away in a pocket of his backpack with all the others. They were beginning to overflow and it would soon become necessary to empty the pocket again.
He rarely blinked anymore at this behavior; it happened so frequently that he was more surprised when a day passed without any harassment. Lost in his thoughts the bell failed to garner any attention and he continued to stare distractedly at his notes. Suddenly a hand tapped his shoulder gently and he jumped, preparing for a book to the head or worse.
"Bell rang dude." A soft voice announced.
John glanced up and found himself gazing into his own reflection, shiny and darkly tinted from Dave's shades.
"I said the bell rang. You were all spacin' the fuck out though. Did you even hear it?"
All through this speech Dave's expression had remained completely neutral and John found it difficult to peg down whether he was irritated or worried or just stone cold didn't give a fuck.
"Are you listening to me?"
John grinned sheepishly, forgetting for a moment to hide his teeth.
"Yeah! Sorry! I heard you, thanks for the warning!" That said he shoved his notebook into his bag and sped from the room.
Running down the hall, he cursed himself to hell and back for screwing up such a perfect opportunity to ask Dave about the music he listened to. Just five seconds; that's all it would have taken! Damn it, why was he such a doofus?
Back in the room Dave stood staring at the empty doorway through which the small, dark haired boy had sprinted. Sprinted as though spooked. Spooked as in spooked by Dave. Dave as in himself.
"Fuck."
Not again.
All he'd wanted to know was what was written on that piece of paper…
A/N I don't knowwwwwwwwwwwww… Did they seem like themselves?