_a/n: shortish drabbleish kinda thing. something i came up with while at work and conjured up in about thirty minutes or so

let's get these teen hearts beating faster, faster
/ Somebody asks for kissing lessons. Cue the shenanigans.

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"You want me to—," she swallows, attempting to regain the composure that has seemed to have wander off with this boy's dignity. "—what?"

"Teach me how to kiss."

"You have totally lost it, Minkus," the disturbed expression on her face apparent in the way her mouth curves downward, brows elevated. Maya places her spoon of frozen yogurt back into the mountain of strawberry with a sudden loss of appetite.

With an exasperated breath reeking of pure, absolute desperation, Farkle intercedes. "No, Maya, that's exactly it—I HAVEN'T LOST IT… and we're about to graduate!"

He watches as her eyes roll into oblivion. "Farkle, you're ridiculous. You most definitely do not need to lose your virginity before college. That's just some stupid, hyped up, high school endeavor." She takes a long slurp from the straw of her coke and wonders when Lucas will get here to save her from this idiotic approach.

"Nononono—not that," the boy exclaims. Maya gives him a scrutinizing look, to which he shrugs embarrassed, white flags up. "Kissing virginity."

With a lit up light bulb and a choke on some soda, she gathers herself. Maya could be mean, yeah, but she's known Farkle forever and he's lived years with her teasing, but never on light touches on his actual insecurities. So she's quick to filter herself. Instead, she asks, "What exactly are you asking? What is this proposition you're getting at?"

The colour of her eyes hit the limelight of the lamp above their small table in the fruity yogurt place they're seated in, suspicion radiating off the pupils. It does its job in raising the intimidation and for a second (that she captures, steals with her continuous interrogation), he hesitates.

"Is this some sort of strategy to get me to be your first kiss or something?" Her fingers drum against the table. "Aren't you in love with Riley?"

"Okay, no. I mean, yes. No, it's not what you think," he fumbles with his words and she watches him with her elbows atop the wood, her chin resting on her interlaced fingers. "Yeah, I love that girl. And goddamn I want to kiss her… but I want her to be able to want to kiss me… back."

"Like, enjoy kissing you," Maya clarifies.

"Yes. I want to be taught," he proceeds after an elongated sigh. "I mean, I already know I'm everything a woman could want and all, but I lack in the most needed department of an eighteen year old, okay?"

She tries her best to keep from laughing. Really, she does. "And that would be?"

"Sex appeal."

Go figure.

She fails, almost falling out of her chair. Between snickers and cracked grins, she musters, "So, you want me, Maya Hart, to teach you the art of seduction and all the things that come with it."

"Yes," he replies, nodding. The poor sap is over a hundred percent serious, and she almost pities the kid.

"So you can woo Miss Matthews."

He nods, persistent and oh-so-hopeful.

"How do you suppose I do this?" One blonde eyebrow is arched in complete, entertained interest in the crafty things that form the inside of that big head of his. She really is genuinely interested in what he's trying to get at. So… why not play along, right? "Because I'm certainly not going to physically show you one on one. Especially before you get involved with my best friend."

"I never said you had to show me personally," Farkle presumes, correcting her assumption. Before any interruption could continue from any retaliation, Lucas enters their view and takes a seat beside the two of them. "Now that I've called you both here… we have some business to discuss."

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And this is how it goes:

—but why us?

"Because you two are the most wanted senior specimen of our entire school. Both your sex appeal levels are off the charts, even if you're a virgin, Lucas."

(thanks Farkle)

(aw, wittle cowboy wucas…)

(shut it)

"That… and because you guys are my only friends. Who else am I supposed to ask for help?"

—and why would we do this for you?

"Because… you guys are really good friends? And the last thing you guys would want is for your best friend to die alone and unhappy and alone."

(oh, you'll be fine by yourself)

"I'm talking about Riley."

(good one)

"No… but really. I wouldn't ask for anybody's help if I didn't need it. And I wouldn't ask just anybody. You know me."

—say we pitied you enough to give into this proposal… what would we have to do?

"Well that, my friends, would be up to you."

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Sex Education 101: the How To's and How To Not's in flirting, kissing, and seduction by Maya Hart and Lucas Friar, is what they call it after deciding that this undertaking is anything but boring. So… what the hell, right?

Playing teacher-student with Farkle's fun. It's the one time where there's someone who's actually in charge of the kid. And with Maya as one of the instructors, ah, well, there will definitely be no talk backs, detention, and consequences. Lucas doesn't argue and instead, smiles with his arms folded. This is surely going to be one hell of a joyride.

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"So, you never want to overdo your sweet talking," Maya informs. She's wearing specs over her eyes and she has a yardstick she'd stolen from some geometry class during their break to smack against the board to what she'd written in defined, white chalk. The Rules of Flirting.

"Speaking of things being overdone…" Farkle utters.

There is no hesitation, no nanosecond between seconds that pass before her object of emphasis (and pain, downright, immense, fiery pain) smacks against his desk, barely a centimeter away from his folded hands. "Shut it."

"But—"

"What'd I say about talking back?" Maya snaps. Before he even has the chance to interrupt with an answer to her rhetorical question, she proceeds. "The key to verbal flirtation is teasing. You never wanna say too much. Pick-up lines are cute and all, I guess. But they are certainly not hot. Take notes."

"Are you se—"

"Take notes," she repeats, venom visible.

Another voice slices through the seemingly limited air in the perimeter of the abandoned class, unannounced and unrehearsed. "You kind of want your interaction to be like a game. Like your playing cat and mouse or some kind of chess match, in other words."

"I love chess."

"Exactly. It's almost challenging," Lucas states. "You wanna be able to leave'm flustered or riled up."

The blonde nods in genuine agreement, thinking of past experiences with boys during the entirety of her high school career. "That's the fun way, at least," she adds without another thought.

"So… mimic how you guys talk to one another?"

Both faces bloom cherry crimson and Lucas does nothing but look away, allowing Maya to steer the way out of the initiated conversation. "What did I say about talking back?"

"I wasn't—"

"Minkus…" her gaze is sinister, but her cheeks are still the brightest shade he's ever seen them in. "Shut the hell up."

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Well, this had stupid fucking mess written all over it, but Farkle would not stop giving her shit for wanting to back out of these goddamned lessons.

Why?, he would ask, as if it hadn't been completely obvious that it would be completely inappropriate for she and Lucas to be teaching this subject to him.

But why? he would continue to prod, as if (despite him being the school's brightest, academic genius) he had still been oblivious to she and Lucas's stupidstupidstupid mutual (and not only sexual) attraction.

(She's not supposed to like one of her best friends like that. And neither is Farkle, but that was his problem and she sure as hell wasn't gonna be the one to butt in and crush his dreams.)

But dammit, man. Damn herself. Damn him. Damned it all.

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And oh, god, before she knows it she's in this situation and it's her fault. There really is no one to blame but herself.

(It was all choice.)

WhydidIagreetothiswhywhywhy—

He just had to be challenging and she just had to be stubborn. And well, they both should have considered how far these lessons could have gone. And they both should have definitely not disregarded (ignored, looked away in obvious denial) whatever the hell attraction this was… but they had. And that was that: inevitably leading to this point.

With trepidation (that she tries her absolute best to conceal) she climbs onto his lap, facing him and actually watching as his irises become hazy, dark.

She wounds her fingers through the soft dirty blonde of his hair, running her mind through the list once more. Spread knees? Check. Arched back? Yes. Limited body space? Most definitely.

Remember, Hart: this means nothing. This is nothing. Do not let those sultry eyes get to you.

"Then what?"

Oh shit, right, Farkle had been there, too.

"Well Lucas, here, is doing a poor job in accurately representing how to position your body when someone is on top of you... like so," she quickly comments, breaking the locked stare-down which had been drowning in buried tension. "You're not supposed to be so stiff. It's awkward."

His eyes squint at the latter remark, fighting the smirk that's about to pry its way onto his lips. Since he's Lucas, he doesn't give up without a fight. He pushes through her bubble, despite the fact she's towering over him since she's on his crotch, remaining recumbent and compliant upon him. "That's right. You have to make sure you're curled into their touch. Don't be afraid to inch closer…"

With smug satisfaction, he watches as her heartbeat speeds under a heightened breath she would never dare to admit when his lips ghost over the surface of her neck and collarbone-not quite touching, but definitely teasing with his own breath in a slow and agonizing pattern, knocking out the remainder of any oxygen intake her lungs have embraced. His mouth refuses to make direct contact with the contours of her skin and to her, although she would never admit it, is both a blessing and a curse. Shit. She is one step away from doing the equivalent to falling off a cliff. If his hands come into play, she's a goner.

Gotta act fast.

"Yeah," she soothes, taking matters into her own hands once again. "And once any space diminishes," she closes the remainder of the gap between their chests with her bust, catching him off guard and thus having him recoil backward, as if repelling her movements. She watches his ears go red with a smile that he wants to tear off her pretty little face. "You'll see the way she enjoys it by the way she moves her hips."

…like so.

She grinds into his groin once: slow, dramatic and tempting; eyes never leaving his as the amount of heat intensifies tenfold below them.

And everything is on fire.

"…Guys?" pipes up the forgotten student.

The teachers respond simultaneously. "Get out."

Awkwardly, he gets up. For the first time, Farkle doesn't argue.

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"Did it work?" Riley asks on the other end of the phone line.

"What do you think?" Farkle asks on the opposite side of the door he'd exited from, knowing smirk intact.

"We're brilliant."

_a/n: could have been much better; i know it's not my best work; it's far from it and it's irksome but whatever. and there's a shit ton of dialogue which i'm nooooot about writing, but whatever there was no other way. (that's a lie. i'm just fairly lazy.)

hope you found some sort of entertainment in this, though :-)