The next day, when Desmond arrived at school, he noticed Clay fucking staring at him. He had no idea why though. All he knew was that Clay was being weirder than usual, and giving him the dumbest fucking look. Desmond occupied himself by bothering Connor during health class, flicking paper footballs onto Connor's table with quotes from Iron Man until the boy glared at him. Desmond just beamed at him and Connor turned redder than usual.
Clay gave him weird looks for that too.
Thankfully he didn't have to see Clay until lunch. He started when one moment he was in line alone, the next Clay had fucking aparated next to him. "So… Was this a conscious decision or did you just forget?"
"Forget?" Desmond asked grabbing his lunch.
"Wow you seriously forgot. That's amazing. This is literally one of the best days of my life, I need a moment to fully bask in your forgetfulness," Clay said, also getting his own lunch.
"Going to clue me in on what I forgot?" Desmond asked as they waited in line for milk and to pay.
"That… isn't your shirt," Clay grinned at him widely.
"What?" he looked down, it was one of his button up shirts he wore to work. "It totally is one of my shirts," he said, "All my Ts were dirty so I had to wear a work shirt."
"No, it totally isn't," Clay said and grabbed them both chocolate milk. "That's totally Voldemort's shirt."
"Volde- what? WHat?" and the kid in front of him looked over their shoulder at him wondering what Desmond's condition was.
"Yeah, that's totally the shirt you wore when I picked you up the first time. It doesn't even fit you how did you think this was your shirt?" Clay poked his chest.
"Oh my god… I never gave it back," Desmond squeaked, completely mortified. Now he knew why this shirt was clean; because he never wore it. He made a point to never wear it. But he didn't have any clean clothes this morning and so had thrown it on without thinking and now he was wearing Altair's shirt.
"You idiot," Clay laughed and then they were paying for their lunch.
"Oh god… and I have tutoring today," Desmond was all at once anxious. Clay just snorted. "It isn't funny!" Desmond cried and thankfully they were outside now.
"Sure it is. And how'd the thing with Connor go? You play two seats in the dark?"
"Nooo," Desmond groaned, "Aveline came home and then I learned our friend doesn't like superheros and-
"What? He doesn't? Ew," Clay said.
"Basically. I don't think I can kiss someone who doesn't like superheros," Desmond said, only half serious. "Also I got an instagram," he said as they came up to the others.
"You're on instagram?" Rebecca asked.
"Yeah?"
"Holy shit give me your username, I'm going to follow you," she said and whipped out her phone.
"You have one?" Desmond asked, "I never see you taking pictures though," he frowned and sat between her and Lucy.
"I don't really post, but I follow a lot of sports players," she said.
Next to her Shaun sighed, "Rebecca like hockey players," he said.
"What? Since when? Florida doesn't even have a hockey team," Desmond said.
"Yes they do! But they suck so it doesn't matter," Rebecca said, "Now really, instagram name."
"Uh," Desmond balanced his tray on his knee precariously as he dug around for his iPhone. "I've barely even used it," he said.
"Yeah so?" Rebecca said as he brought up the app.
"DM, underscore," Desmond said.
"Seriously? How'd you get that?"
"Uh… I picked it? I have no idea I just started," Desmond said.
"Your first pic is Connor? Boring, take pictures of us," Rebecca said cheerfully.
"This is weird, I actually do something that Rebecca does, its like an episode of the Twilight Zone," Desmond said as he brought up his camera and took a picture of Rebecca hanging off of Shaun who really looked like he just wanted to have his lunch in peace. "Look happy Shaun, seriously."
"I'm British, Desmond, we aren't allowed to look happy."
"You nearly have Rebecca's tits in your face, I think that negates that," and only then did Shaun notice them and Desmond caught the image of Shaun's sudden 'oh look at that' face. "Perfect," he said.
"Uhg," Rebecca groaned, "Boys just have to make everything gross," and she sat back on the seat.
"What? I was just pointing them out. I don't even like them," Desmond shrugged and imported the image to instagram. He didn't bother with filters again and just posted it. And then turned to look at Clay and Lucy.
Lucy was practically in Clay's lap and she was sharing some of her lunch with him. Her step dad had brought her grocery store sushi and seaweed salad. "Desmond, really?" Lucy asked as he got them just as Clay failed to get the seaweed all the way into his mouth and it flopped against his chin.
"Perfect," Desmond snickered.
"That doesn't sound good," Desmond looked up when Connor joined them, just sitting on the ground in front of him.
"Just Instagram," desmond shrugged.
"Yeah, my sister says that too," Connor sighed.
"You sister has insta too?" Rebecca asked.
"Yeah."
"What's she post? Nudes?"
"No!" Connor squeaked, looking mortified by the mere idea. "She posts her lolita and pink things and her boyfriend."
"You sister has a boyfriend?" Lucy asked. "Since when?"
"Since yesterday."
"Oh, so Malik did give her a ride at that finals after party," Rebecca said.
"Rebecca," Lucy scolded, Connor just looked confused. Rebecca giggled a little.
"Well, yeah, it is Malik, how did you know?" Connor asked.
"Because only boyfriends get that stupid look on their face when you walk by in a hot outfit like 'yeah, I'm going to take that off tonight," Rebecca said, finding herself incredibly hilarious.
Desmond wasn't the only one who sighed, but apparently Clay thought she was on the money because he leaned across his friends, basically across Desmond's lap, to fist bump her. "I wanted to ask," Lucy said abruptly, "Can we move club day?"
"Why?" Desmond asked.
"Because I have softball practice now. We meet every other day until full season starts, and it falls on club day."
"Then yeah, sure. Why don't we move it to the weekends?" Clay asked.
"I work weekends," Desmond said.
"Wednesdays then?" Lucy asked.
"I hate Wednesdays," Desmond grumbled.
"Besides Desmond hating Wednesday, everyone cool with that?" Lucy asked.
"Yeah, seems fine," Clay said with a shrug. "Any other news to share or am I free to go do my thing?"
"Like anyone would dare get between you and your thing," Desmond said sarcastically.
"Good," and Clay hopped off the bench, grabbed his backpack and went off.
"What's his thing?" Connor asked.
"His gossip wheel," Desmond said rolling his eyes. "Don't worry about and don't take him up on it when he asks you if you want to bet one something, you'll lose."
"What?" Connor was just so confused.
"Just don't," Desmond advised him.
"Okay…" Connor said, frowning.
—
There was a weird air during tutoring. In chemistry, when Altair had come in, he'd seen Desmond and gotten this look on his face. Not the same look Clay had been giving him up till lunch, but a look. Desmond had wanted to just crawl into his backpack and zip himself up. Now, as Altair worked, he kept… glancing up at Desmond. Just brief looks but Desmond noticed. And it was starting to stress him out and make him anxious.
"You got a problem?" Desmond asked him.
"Nothing," Altair said, looking down at his work but Desmond could see his lips tugged into a bit of a smile. "You're just… wearing my shirt," and he found it amusing. Desmond flushed brightly and when Altair looked up and smirked at him he burned brighter.
"Not on purpose," he said, thankfully not stammering.
"Looks good on you," and Desmond hated him. He hated Altair so much because it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he was cute, and could be charming and flirty, and had an fantastic dick, and perfect then… would be such a fucking prick. It was why he was so on board with being Connor's experiment, because Connor wasn't a prick. Connor also didn't tongue tie him with a look and make all the butterflies that showed up when he was around Altair flutter into a storm only to just melt and sigh when Altair said something stupid or charming. He was fucking perfect and Desmond hated every atom of him.
"Kinda big," Desmond said and tried not to think about the fact that he was wearing Altair's shirt, not the first one no. But usually those were temporary and just in the morning when Altair sometimes made him breakfast and washed his clothes. He'd worn this shirt all damn day. "How the hell did you even know? It looks like a normal fucking shirt."
"Too big on you, and you don't wear red," Desmond scowled at him, but it was true. Desmond wasn't a red guy.
"What you notice what I wear?"
"I notice what cute guys wear yeah," Altair seemed amused by Desmond's sudden shocked face. "I mean, don't you?"
"Sometimes," he admitted, he honestly didn't usually pay attention. Desmond was basically the worst example of a gay guy ever. "I didn't peg you as a guy who cared what someone else wore."
"Fair enough. I'm usually more interested in taking those clothes off anyway," and the hair on the back of his neck stood up on end. "I ever going to get my shirt back or are you just going to keep it?"
"You can have it back— not right now though. I think the librarian wouldn't appreciate me stripping in her library." And while Altair didn't say it his eyes and that smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth said he'd appreciate it. Desmond hated him so much. Altair was so fucking confident and sure of himself and knew just how to twist Desmond around his fingers and make him enjoy it. It was so fucking hot too. It made Connor's stammering, flustered, puppy crush, seem flimsy and ill constructed. Altair knew what he liked and even if he didn't like Desmond, he liked Desmond's body and liked making it feel good.
"You should come over. I could give you your shirt back," he said.
"My shirt- oh, right." Obviously. If Desmond had Altair's shirt of course he had Desmond's shirt.
"Uh… okay," he nearly stammered there. "How come I didn't know you had a pool till the party?" he suddenly asked.
"… What?" Altair asked, giving him a look.
"I've been over your house like a dozen times. I didn't even know you had a back deck."
"I have a boat and dock too," Altair said.
"You do- how have I been there twelve times and never seen it?"
"I don't know. You ever look outside? Not like there aren't windows everywhere." Desmond opened and closed his mouth a few times, but had no come back to that. "Too distracted by me?"
Desmond drew back and scowled at him, stupid flirty asshole. "Yeah, totally you and not your giant mansion house," Desmond said, rolling his eyes.
"So is that a yes?" Altair asked.
Desmond didn't want to say yes. But he did want his shirt back. He didn't remember what the shirt looked like. But he knew he wanted it back. "Yeah, I want my shirt back."
—
He probably should have been more awkward about this. Sitting on Altair's bed while Altair looked through his dresser for Desmond's shirt. Desmond looked around while he waited, it looked the same as the last time he'd seen it. Wall scrolls, yellow walls and ceiling, ceiling fan, two windows on either side of the bed, the rope lights in the headboard. Every time Desmond looked at the bed he could see himself on it, naked. Fuck how many times had he been laid out on it? Enough times honestly.
"Ah, found it," Altair said and tugged a shirt from the drawer.
"Finally," Desmond huffed.
"I have a lot of clothes," Altair shrugged and handed it to him.
Desmond took it and then stood up, then he turned his back to Altair and started to unbutton the shirt. He didn't know why he was bothering, Altair had seen him naked and then some. But just a small measure of control in this situation was enough for him, since he was in Altair's court here, in his house. He changed shirts quickly, yanking his T-shirt, which was washed and smelled clean, on over his head.
"The hell… you stretched it out," he turned around to Altair, the neck of his shirt was stretched out, the shoulders had been too. It didn't fit him anymore.
Altair shrugged, "I only wore it once. It was too tight."
"Yeah and now its too loose uuuuhg," he looked down at his shirt, "I liked this shirt too," he muttered to himself.
"Well then just take it off if you're upset about it," Altair said.
"You'd like that wouldn't you?" Desmond asked, and was suddenly aware that Altair was very close to him. They were nearly touching.
"I wouldn't be adverse to it," Altair admitted and he felt the tips of Altair's fingers brush against the hem of his shirt and briefly against the skin of his stomach. It made his heart do a summersault. "Wouldn't be the first time I convinced you to stay either," he said and fuck why did this guy make him so weak kneed? Desmond honestly was about to swoon. He hated this guy so fucking much.
"Yeah well-" he didn't get the rest out because Altair's mouth brushed against his and he forgot how to talk. It was barely a kiss but it made Desmond's stomach drop out and fuck he wanted Altair to kiss him so badly. His eyes lidded and Altair ran his hand up under his shirt, across his flank following the curve of his body to the small of his back.
He closed his eyes and sighed when his phone started ringing. Abruptly he turned away, breaking up whatever they'd been doing, or about to do, and fished his phone from his pocket. He didn't look at the caller ID before picking up. "Hello?" he asked.
"Desmond?" Connor asked.
"Yeah. Con what is it?" he didn't mean to sound harsh, but Connor had literally just interrupted.
"Oh uh… my dad's not going to be home till late and my mom said since I'd been so good I could have a friend over for dinner. So I wanted to know if you wanted to come over?"
Desmond sighed and ran his hand through his hair, tugging it absently. "Yeah. Yeah I'd love to come over for dinner," he said.
"Okay. You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine I just… nothing. Its fine, sorry for snapping."
"Its okay. We're doing tacos and nachos for dinner, kinda early-
"Okay. I'll be there in a little bit."
"Okay!" and Desmond smiled helplessly with how excited Connor sounded. "Also I told my mom you were teaching me how to ride a motorcycle. She wants to grill you."
"Fantastic," Desmond groaned and rubbed his mouth, Connor just laughed. "I'll see you in a bit," and hung up. He sighed turned back to Altair, "I have to go," he said.
"Right," Altair said, suddenly like a pin cushion, his body language hostile and closed off, his voice sharp and hard. "You know where the door is," and frankly Desmond didn't exactly blame him for his sudden attitude change. He had just blown him off rather spectacularly.
"I'll… see you tomorrow," he said and then saw himself out.
