After class, Mitchell went directly to Moira's locker. Grayson was already there with her, leaning against the locker at her side and smirking at something she was saying. Mitchell wrapped his arms around her waist and dragged her backwards into his body. She went willingly without stopping what she was saying to Grayson about a new way to build Molatov cocktails. When she'd finished her sentence, she tilted her head back to look at him and asked, "What's wrong, love? You look upset."
"Just right pissed. Tossers runnin' their mouf in Whicker's class."
"About what, dear?" Her hands settled over his and began massaging them gently.
"Shit Grayson and I will be takin' care of, Moira. Don't you worry much."
"Don't kill anybody," she warned. "I'm going to be in the library for the afternoon. I've got food stashed if you get hungry. Grayson, sweetheart…" He perked up when she turned her attention to him. Before, he'd been focused on figuring out why Mitchell wanted to beat the tar out of Alfie Whickers. "try to go to class today, right? Don't skip all of them."
"I'll make it to a few," he promised.
She grinned at him and he leaned forward to press his lips to hers. Mitchell glared at anybody walking past who had the audacity to stare at them, though it was an interesting picture. Mitchell was a little taller than Moira and his chin rested around the area of her ear. She was leaning back into his arms with her hands over top of his and Grayson was leaning forward to kiss her. He pulled back and she tiled her head so Mitchell could kiss her too.
"I'll see you later, boys," she said as she pulled away. "Try to behave yourselves."
Grayson grunted and Mitchell answered, "No promises."
When she was gone, Grayson nodded down the hall. "Aye, we 'ave an audience."
Mitchell turned to see Alfie and Joe staring at them. Grayson sneered, "Fuckin' cock ticklers gettin' excited."
"Nah, mate, those're the shitheads we need to have a chat wif. They got an opinion about Moira and us."
"Do dey now? Well, if dere's anyfing I learned from Pickwell, it's da importance of education. So let's educate some fuckin' twats."
Alfie and Joe didn't have the sense to run as Mitchell and Grayson stomped towards them. Alfie winced. "Hey there, Grayson, Mitchell. You seen Rem Dog, Mitchell? Just lookin' for him."
"Empty room, now," Grayson scowled, pointing at one to the side. Alfie and Joe sighed and walked into the classroom with Mitchell and Grayson close behind them.
"Aye, now, me colleague 'ere tells me dat you lot got your nose where it don't belong," Grayson spoke up, glaring at the two of them in his open eyed stare.
"Mitchell!" Alfie exclaimed.
"Look here, sir, you run your mouf about Moira, she's not happy. She's not happy, we're not happy, get it?"
"And she ain't gonna not be 'appy. So listen 'ere, ya cunts," Grayson spoke up again. "You're goin' to keep your trap shut and leave us out of your class conversations from now on. Any questions?"
"Yeah," Joe spoke up. "How did you two get Moira Margaret to date either of you. Forget about the fact that she's datin' both of you."
"Ain't none of your fuckin' business, mate," Grayson and Mitchell spoke as one.
"Do you even know how you got her, Grayson?"
"Fuckin' aye, I do, mate. Just because I fuckin' 'ate you lot don't mean I'm not a damn good guy for me girl!" Of course, in the beginning, Grayson had been turned down a colossal amount of times by Moira.
After failing three classes, he was assigned a tutor through the school. He wouldn't even have gone but Pickwell had some information about a fire he might have or might not have set and she was blackmailing him. It was a tutor or back in the pen. So he decided that it benefited him to show up to that fucking library at five o'clock. She was the first thing he saw as soon as he walked in. She was sitting up on the windowsill with her phone at her ear and the light reflecting off of her hair. And she was ripping whoever was on the phone apart.
"Listen here, you fucking cunt, if that money isn't in my bank account by three o'clock tomorrow, not only am I going to fly there and kick your ass, I'll also sue you. I can be in Florida by Wednesday, you piece of rubbish. Don't make me show up and take that money." She hung up the phone and tossed it to the side, raising her eyes to Grayson in the process. "Hello, Grayson."
"'ello dere. Who were you cussin' like dey don't have a muvver?"
"Grayson, if you're going to talk, please do so as if you do not have a wad of chewing gum stuck to the roof of your mouth."
"What in da hell do you want me to talk like den?"
"You are missing the sound 'th' in your vocabulary. It's the one where you press the tip of your tongue to your teeth and exhale while you move your tongue down away from your teeth. See, teeth has one in it."
"I know what way I want to move me tongue."
"Right, well, let's get to work." She hopped down from the windowsill and made her way over to the table, gesturing for him to join her as she sat down.
"I don't fuckin' want to do shit. I'm just 'ere 'cause I 'ave to be. So get dis straight, I ain't doin' shit."
"Oh, you're going to do stuff, Grayson, or I'm going to kick your ass. See, I get paid whether you do anything or not, but I get a bonus if you pass your mock exam in Pickwell's class. So you're going to learn because I'm going to cram science down your throat, do you understand, love?"
He just stared at her. She was sitting prim and proper with her legs crossed at the ankles and a smile painted across her face. But he knew smiles like that. He had smiles like that. Predator smiles. Smiles that meant somebody would get hurt if they didn't do what he wanted.
"And just 'ow da fuck do you plan to do dat?"
He didn't know if it was sexy or scary how quickly she had him in an arm bar with his face pressed down against the table. It seemed like one second she was standing up to walk over to him, and the next second, his arm was twisted behind his back and he was slammed onto the table police style. She leaned forward and murmured in his ear, "You will do the fucking work in here. We can make learning fun, or I can twist your arm every day and recite the information into your ear. Which do you prefer, dear?"
He grunted and tried to ignore the semi he was sporting. She whispered, "A grunt is not an answer, Grayson. Which do you prefer?"
"Fuck, da first one! Jesus Christ, da first one!"
"Good." She released him easily and moved around the table while he rubbed his arm.
"Where da fuck did you learn dat?"
"I'm an MMA fighter, Grayson. That person on the phone that I was 'cussing like they don't have a mother' was an agent in Florida who owes me some money for a fight. I take three things very seriously, Grayson: education, my money, and my job. So let's get to work."
She sat back down and pulled out the science book and he actually listened to her. At the end of the hour, she promised, "Next time, I'll plan for something violent and explosive. How's that, dear?"
"Dank you." He showed up on time to the next tutoring session and she let him draw the cell respiration on her arms and legs. He said it was like giving her a "lame tat." It was his favorite way to learn biology though.
It was three weeks before he asked her out. He was drawing the bones of her arm and listing the simplest ones to break when he said casually, "Come to da pub wif me tomorrow night. I know you don't 'ave a fight or event. Me bruver can get us fakes to get in."
"No thank you, Grayson."
"And 'ow come?" He stopped labeling the ulna and stared up at her.
"I already have plans. Keep drawing."
"Do you got a guy you go wif den?"
"Nothing serious, not that it's your business."
"Should be. Let me take you out."
"Grayson, you are a violent psychopath with arsonist tendencies and the attitude of a pretentious swan."
"Don't mean I'd be bad to go wif. Be a right good one to go wif."
"That may be so, but it's not going to happen, Grayson. Plus, I'm your teaching aide."
He grunted and resigned for the time. A week later, he tried again.
"What you do after dis?"
"You're missing a word, Grayson." Moira Margaret was searching for the box with the frog she'd caught for him to dissect. She'd convinced the janitor to let them in the science lab and had decided to work on inner workings. She could have obtained an already dead frog from the science lab but she knew he wouldn't go for it. So she caught one from the garden, killed it with fumes from some chloroform her mom had laying around, and brought it in for him.
He rolled his eyes and repeated, "What do you do after this? See, even used da th."
She ignored the lack of pronoun and answered, "I stop by a petrol station and pick up some fish and chips to eat on the coach home."
"Well, today, I'll take you to Nando's for dinner."
"I'm not going on a date with you, Grayson."
She found the box and stood up. He objected, "Full of yourself, ain't you? I dinnit ask you on a date. I told you I'm takin' you to Nando's. Do you consider dat a date? Shitty date, innit?"
"You're the one who's asking me to go with you. Here's a frog, here's some instructions. Go at it."
"You're going to let me cut dat up?"
"Yep. Get to work."
"You are literally da best woman I've ever met in me life."