Disclaimer: I do not own the Bully videogame.

Author's Note: Wow, here we are, already at chapter twenty. Twenty, twenty-one, and twenty-two will be about Christmas for three of the pairs. I am very sorry if this offends anyone, but I do not know enough about any other winter holidays to write about them. Don't worry though, there's nothing religious (not that Christmas really is all that religious to most people living in America any more). Also, (even though it is still a ways off) I'm thinking about writing a short Derby and Bif fic after I finish this one. It would be about Derby chasing after Bif, instead of the redhead wanting the blonde. Tell me what ya think! :3

AmishGazebo: Yay you reviewed again! Sora and Riku are totally a couple. There are way too many hints for it to be a mistake. Like Sora staring at Riku's crotch, or the whole: "You always worm your way back into my heart!" Heehee! ^-^

EvilChick101: Why thank you very much! I did not know if anyone would like a cocky drunk Trent with beefed out arms. :3

A Boy Named Troy

Chapter Twenty

With the exception of a swelling jaw from Derby's last right hook, which packed a lot of bite, everything felt commonplace and right to Bif. It had been a long time since the blonde accompanied him to the boxing club in the afternoon, let alone step into the ring with him. Every move, every footing fell back into rhythm after only about twenty minutes. They danced the dance of the noble sport for hours, each sweating and panting profusely now. Although Bif was more seasoned lately, he was the only one whose throws were growing slow and reactions lazy. He had not landed anything on his friend for the past half an hour or so.

"Sorry about that ol' chap!" Derby called, sprightly bouncing from one foot to the other. He was referring to Tremblay's jaw. Despite each breath becoming more and more difficult to grasp, he did not cease his movements. "What? Becoming tired already, Bif? Really, have you not been boxing a lot more than me of late?"

"Perhaps," Bif grasped for air. "I just don't want you to hurt you."

"Hah!" Derby moved in close. The swift movement carried a drop from his forehead through the air, only to land on Bif's upper lip. Somehow it felt warmer than his own. The redhead seriously considered slipping his tongue out to lap up the salty drop, but he decided against it.

"Even I'm not freak enough to do that." he thought as he wiped his mouth with the back of the large crimson glove he was wearing.

Derby was no longer jumping. "Hit me."

"What?"

"Try to get me!" They both slipped the plastic mouth guards they had taken out to speak back in place. Bif shrugged. Figuring that the leader would just show off by dodging any punch, the redhead sloppily held up his aching arms. "Hurry up!" Usually, Bif never aimed for Derby's face. Never his friend's commanding eyes, nor his adorable nose, nor his beautiful smile. Right then though, he was quite tired and sure of his upcoming failure. With that in mind, he pushed his gloved fist forward and WHAM! A direct hit to the once perfect right side of Derby's face.

Removing the plastic from his mouth and wriggling out of one of the gloves, the taller male ran to his companion and placed his bare palm against the soon to be bruised skin. "Derby! I'm so sorry I thought you'd--"

"I knew it!" The blonde forcefully exclaimed, spitting out his mouth guard onto the mat. He sounded happy. "Did not want to hurt me, eh?"

"Oh yeah, that." Regretfully, Bif removed his hand gear.

"Now admit that I am still the better boxer!" The shorter boy triumphantly crossed his arms over his chest and, tastefully, beamed.

Theatrically, the redhead fell to his knees and raised his hands to the blonde. "Oh my great, mighty, fearless king, you are truly the best of the best when it comes to boxing."

"Good." Derby removed his own gloves and offered Bif a hand to get up. He gratefully took it. "You have improved tremendously though. I would say that if you faced off against Hopkins today, he'd be out cold in a matter of minutes."

"Thanks." Bif breathed out through a smile.

"What say we go on back home now?"

"Okay."

"Merry Christmas Bif."

"You too."

`~***~`

It was the twenty-fifth of December that day and, like the entirety of Bullworth, Harrington House was rather empty. In fact, Derby and Bif were the only two residential preppies that had not gone home for the holiday break. After they returned from their sparring session, the redhead retreated to his room for a much needed shower. When he returned to the common area on the first floor, Derby was no where to be found. The redhead held a tiny maroon wrapped box in his hands. He was saddened by the disappearance of his close friend, but he should not have been surprised. What, did he actually expect someone like Derby Harrington to spend the holiday with him? Leaving the present on the arm of a couch, Bif retired to his room once again.

`~***~`

"Bi-if!" The redhead could hear his leader singing out his name through the empty halls around six in the evening. Not too long after, the blonde burst into Bif's bedroom, where the boxer had been reading a book that was assigned. "So that's where you've been!" Derby's red nose exuded the feeling of the holidays. "Did you get me this?" The tipsy blonde made his way onto the bed that Bif had been laying on. As he kneeled beside the redhead, he held open his hand. Inside his grasp there was a petite glass lion with a gold mane and ruby eyes.

The boxer tried to hold back a blush; the gift did not seem nearly as ridiculous inside the store as it did now. "Er yes, I'm sorry. I didn't have very much money and--"

"I absolutely love it. It's so adorable!" Adorable? Derby must have been quite toasted, because a sober Derby did not use that word. A sober Derby also did not so casually climb onto the same bed as Bif. "Why a little lion though?"

"Because lions remind me of you." Did he really say that out loud.

"Aw, you are just so sweet! I bought you a little something also, but it's downstairs."

Down in the common room Derby had placed a rather large white box beside two bottles of champagne and a bottle of wine. The present had been new boxing gloves and shorts, all in a shade of tan. The blonde had signed every piece of the present, saying that it would be worth a lot when he was a famous socialite. Now the two were sitting on opposite ends of the couch besides a roaring fire that Bif had lit.

"Loosen up ol' chap, have more than a drink and a half!" Derby laughed wildly.

"Derby, how much have you had to drink today?"

"It's the holidays, perfect time to open a fresh bottle of the bubbly."

"Derby."

"Well let's see, after we worked up a good sweat from our spar I had a shot of that expensive imported vodka Daddy bought me. Then I remembered that Pinky's not around to scold me, so I had another." He smiled, but it was somewhat bitter. Pinky had said that she traveled home for the holidays, but everyone knew that her family was on vacation. The harlot was probably with some guy whose father's wallet was heavy. "After that I decided to go for a little walk. I brought along a tiny, tiny flask, if that counts."

"It does."

"Well then that is all." That was a lie. Bif could smell over three different liquors on his best friend's breath, but he decided not to nag him about it. "Have another drink with me Bif." The blonde whined. Bif shook his head, hating to drink too much. Where he grew up, it was punishable for teens to drink. Here though, in Harrington House, parents actually supplied the substance. "Please? It is so unbecoming to be the only smashed person at a party."

"Then don't drink so much."

"What if we play a drinking game?"

"No."

"How about every time one of us blushes like a little girl we have to take a shot?"

"No thanks."

"Pretty please?" Derby hiccupped and clambered to his hands and knees, still on the couch. Drunkenly, he crawled towards Bif.

"Sheesh, he is worse than one of those loose girls on reality television." The blonde came closer. Bif straightened his back and tried to appear normal. It was quite hard though when his close friend nestled his handsome face into the side of his neck. Derby briefly pulled away again.

"Look, I win!" He then gracefully collapsed onto Bif and fell into a deep slumber.

`~***~`

Bif Tremblay started attending Bullworth Academy at the very beginning of his fourth grade year. His first meeting with a young Derby Harrington was by complete chance. The redhead was walking to the dorms on the first day of school and bumped into the blonde. Instead of screaming at him, like Derby would have usually done, he just stared for a moment. "My word," he said after a few seconds of gaping. "You are huge!" Bif was a little tall for his age (just as he was now), but he still should have taken some kind of offense. He did not though.

Their friendship began quickly, but it was almost shattered after only a few days. It took Derby awhile to realize that Bif did not wear Aquaberry, that Bif did not live in Harrington House, that Bif was not rich. Bif came from a lower middleclass family and could only afford to attend the private school with help through grants and a scholarship. Instead of being brave and original, Derby decided that he needed to stay in his clique, so he made up the lie of the redhead being rich. His father paid for young Tremblay's room (and still did) in Harrington House, and he taught Bif how to act rich. Not all of this came for free though; Bif had to swear loyalty to Derby, which the blonde took to mean learn boxing for the sake of being able to bet on him.

"I'm glad you chose me." Bif whispered to his passed out friend as he held him close. He prayed that the blonde would not be able to remember what he said. "I will always keep our secret, because," Despite Derby being completely unconscious, it still hurt a little to say his next words.
"Because I love you."