Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Pull Up For The J! ❯ The Fight Song ( Chapter 29 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Manga-Chick 
Male pregnancy---Yay? Or Nay?
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.21.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 7.0K | Visits: 221 | Status: Completed
Male pregnancy---Yay? Or Nay?
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.21.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 7.0K | Visits: 221 | Status: Completed
Chapter Twenty-Nine:
“The Fight Song” Marilyn Manson
Quatre was numb as he stared at his computer monitor, feeling utterly stunned from the night before. He had sex with Triton Bloom, and he had to admit–it wasn’t what he had thought, nor was he completely satisfied with it. In Duo’s words from previous: he won’t be curling up in front of a fishing channel anytime soon. But to know that he’d gone and done ‘it’ with Triton? Oh...the self loathing should be kicking in right about now...
“Quatre.”
Damn. It would kick in about now, and with the force of a steel toed boot right in his ass, where it was still sore and he could SWEAR he could still feel Triton’s tongue in that area. He slowly shifted his stunned focus to Trowa, and his very insides curled with absolute guilt and resolution. Just seeing and talking to the goth made him fully guilty of a crime. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if they were together...
“Yes?”
“Did you even hear what I just said?” Trowa asked, frowning at him.
Quatre realized how even that black eyeliner was. It followed those brown tinted eyelashes perfectly. Trowa would be the type of person to color inside the lines...damn him.
“Quatre?” Trowa repeated in irritation.
“I had sex with Triton last night,” Quatre confessed in a hushed whisper. He stared, wide-eyed, at Trowa to catch any response that the goth won’t say out loud.
Trowa stared back at him in mute shock, his eyes widening just slightly to show his surprise. He blinked a couple of times, then leaned back in his chair, giving Quatre a once over. The blond fretted, feeling his insides curl and jolt a couple of times as Trowa looked at him overall once more, as if seeing him for the first time.
Then...another shift in expression.
“You slept with that guy?” he repeated, his voice tinged with disgust. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”
“I...I don’t know. I just...I just...gave in, I g-guess,” Quatre stuttered, looking away from him to fiddle with cracking his knuckles. “It just...it just happened. I...”
“How can things ‘just happen’?” Trowa growled, looking away from him.
“I...I don’t know. It...then...I don’t feel good. I...my stomach’s been in knots all day, and...I can’t even look at him. I feel like...I feel like a whore, Trowa.”
“...Maybe ‘cause you are...” Trowa muttered, feeling sharp jolts of anger and jealousy, and hating himself for it. Quatre was free to do whomever he wanted...it wasn’t like they were together...but...
“I...I know. I just...it was a mistake. I didn’t think I would, but...but...” Quatre gave up on trying to explain his actions, running his hands with frustration through his hair. Why did he feel so Goddamned wired? It was as if every muscle and nerve in his body had been laced with ephedrine, or something. Every bit of him was just...excited. And his mouth was constantly dry, and his breath felt rushed...it had to be just this incident with Triton...that’s all.
“It wasn’t even good...I...”
“Will you stop talking about it? I don’t want to hear what you did with some fuckin’ guy,” Trowa barked, hating himself for feeling this way.
Quatre looked back at him, giving an injured expression, then quickly replacing it with anger.
“Sorry for living, shit,” he muttered, turning to focus on his station.
Trowa glanced at him from the corner of his eye, seeing the self-loathing and anger the blond had on his face, and sighed heavily, looking up at the ceiling. Quatre suddenly cursed, and left his chair, asking for a bathroom pass. When he was issued one, Trowa watched him leave the classroom. Moments later, there was a sound of a fist against the wall, but no one really noticed it.
Trowa felt bad for reacting the way he had–but it had been automatic. He shouldn’t be feeling this way when they were obviously separate people, but...to actually know that Quatre could do things like this...and... it just upset his own stomach and thoughts. He leaned forward onto his knees. He’d apologize for his reaction, of course. It had been obvious Quatre had trouble accepting what he did, which, in turn, made Trowa feel a little better.
He shouldn’t be feeling this way, though. It was quite upsetting for the pair of them.
He leaned back in his chair, exhaling toward the ceiling. He had no right to act toward him in that manner. What he did, and what he thought, was his business. Not Trowa’s. The goth looked at the teacher, then around the classroom. With the pretense of going to the back for some extra disks for his homework, he took the open back door out of the classroom, and headed down the hall toward the bathroom. He was going to talk to Quatre about this, and get things straightened out. He felt bad for reacting the way he had, and he shouldn’t be doing that.
He walked up to the restrooms he was sure Quatre was in, and walked in, listening for any telltale sign that he was there. He heard nothing, through, and leaned down to look under the stalls. No signs of feet, and the restroom was entirely empty...wrinkling his forehead with some thought, he walked out from the restroom and cautiously went down the hall. Once he reached the railing that kept kids from falling off the third floor, he looked down the two levels, and searched a group of freshmen that were gathered down below with a home room teacher. He was curious as to where Quatre went, and looked up at the level he was on. From where he was standing, he could access the stairway that would lead down to the first level, or if he turned left, he’d walk down a hall that was fitted with at least five classrooms. Further down was a bend that led into a hall that would lead into the technology department of the school, and far beyond that was another set of classrooms that the seniors used.
From his right was the same setup, only instead of the tech labs, there were art studios and junior level English classrooms. He pushed away from the railing, and began walking back toward his class. Where would Quatre go? If his stomach was upset, would he even use the school’s restrooms? He couldn’t remember if Quatre was the public restroom guy, or the one that held everything in until he reached a certain bathroom far from the school...
Shaking his head, figuring he’d just catch him later, Trowa headed back to class, to sneak back in without the teacher noticing he’d even left.
Meanwhile, Quatre was holding his stomach as he sat on the toilet, groaning. First of all, his stomach was very upset and was behaving strangely, and second, since he’d had sex with Triton, things didn’t seem to want to work in the way he wanted. It was a very confusing and frustrating time for him, and he could only sit there, groaning and cursing to himself, glad that no one was coming into the restroom any time soon. He was using the dormitory’s restroom, far from the main school building, because it was just embarrassing if he used a public one when he was having this much trouble.
He quietly cursed Triton’s name and the senior’s ability to thrust and pump for seemingly hours, and winced as his insides curdled and banged against each other. Why was he feeling this way? What was wrong with him? He still felt wired as hell, and he didn’t know why or how. His entire body felt like it was racing against time, functioning in a rushed way that was very uncomfortable for him.
After that was over with, he left the stall, wiping sweat from his forehead. He washed his hands, and leaned against the sink, trying to will his heart to stop beating so damn fast. He glanced at his watch, and cursed again. He’d been gone for over twenty minutes, and his teacher was going to be pissed at him, thinking he was merely fooling around.
He hurried out from the bathroom, wincing as he felt the soreness of his ass. He cursed Triton again as he made his way back to the main school building. Damn, he was really thirsty...he stopped at the vending machine, first, then headed back to class. Indeed, his teacher wanted to talk to him after class, but Quatre didn’t care–he’d just explain how he felt and that he’d consider taking the rest of the day off.
The class was immersed in assigned work, so when Quatre sat down (rather painfully), he focused on his assignment, and strived to complete it. But it still felt as through he were in a race, and he couldn’t get things done fast enough. Plus, add to the fact that he felt as if he were detached from everything, in a wholly unusual way...
He shook his head, trying to concentrate on the screen. He faintly heard Trowa trying to talk to him, but he ignored the goth, a little more than upset about his reaction earlier to what he’d confessed. Trowa finally just ended up jerking on his arm, pulling him out of his concentration.
“What?” he snarled, jerking his arm back. “What the fuck do you want?”
Trowa took a patient breath, lifting an eyebrow. “Are you all right?”
“I’m FINE.”
“You don’t look it. Are you sick?”
“NO! Not that you care, anyway.”
“Look, I’m really sorry for how I reacted to your news, all right? It just...it just doesn’t settle with me when I know you’re with other people...”
“Like it’s any of your business!” Quatre cried, giving him an exasperated expression.
“WINNER! BARTON! Do I have to separate you two?” the teacher asked, giving a scowl in their direction. The pair of them turned back to their respective stations, and he resumed his lecture while the students worked.
Quatre scowled at Trowa before refocusing on his assignment. Slumping in his seat so that he wasn’t visible to the teacher, Trowa stared at him with a blank expression, shifting his hands into his pants pockets. Finally, Quatre grew irritated by his staring and glared at him.
“I’m sorry,” Trowa repeated, softly, so that he wasn’t heard by the teacher.
“Stay out of my business.”
“Look...I want to make peace with you, all right? Yes, I shouldn’t have reacted that way toward you. I... I have no right to say shit like that, and that we aren’t together anymore, so I shouldn’t be acting this way. It’s hard for me, though. We were together for over a year, Quatre. We were connected so closely to each other. Sometimes, it’s hard to let go.”
“Trowa,” Quatre growled underneath his breath, giving him a frustrated expression. “We broke up in November. It’s February, now. Shouldn’t that have been more than enough time for us to get over ‘things’?”
“Are you completely over things?” Trowa shot back, glancing at the teacher to make sure he hadn’t heard them talk. He looked back at Quatre, feeling somewhat pleased at the lack of a rapid reply.
Quatre frowned at him, then ran a hand through his hair.
“Yes,” he grumbled, even though he couldn’t look Trowa in the eye when he did.
Trowa stared at him, lifting an eyebrow once more. Brushing his bang from his face, he repeated the question again.
“YES!” Quatre growled again, using his elbow to shove him away.
“Then why can’t you look me in the eye and say it?” Trowa challenged.
“God! Get over it, you psychopath! You got your own thing going, and I got mine. I’m sorry if I discussed it with you in the first fucking place. I shouldn’t have. There are others I can talk to regarding this situation, and I don’t need you on my ass, whining around about it.”
“Well, fine! Goddamn, Quatre...”
“‘Goddamn’ yourself, Barton. Leave me alone.”
“I was just saying–!”
“BARTON! WINNER! Get up here. Grab your stuff, and get up here right now.”
“Shit,” Quatre muttered as Trowa gave the teacher an exasperated expression.
Both of them logged off their programs, gathered their things, and walked up to the front desk, much to the interest of their classmates. Somewhere in the back, Jared snickered, and Middie squelched one of her own.
“You both have detention. You may serve them during lunchtime,” the instructor said, filling out a couple of slips and passing them to them. “You can go now, since class is almost over, and what you had to talk about was obviously unable to WAIT ten minutes...Go. And consider your assignment failed...”
“But–! But–!” Quatre stammered, thinking of his grades. “Can’t we make it up?”
“No. Go. Before I have Ramos bench you for the rest of the season. I’m annoyed enough as it is, Winner,” the man snarled, glaring at him, then at Trowa.
The two filed out, Quatre grumbling underneath his breath. He gave Trowa an elbow jab, the goth yelping in surprise and pain.
“You bastard. Look at what you did!”
“What ‘I’ did? Fucker, you’re the one making me talk!”
“I didn’t make you talk! You talked all on your fucking own!”
“You made me talk because you wouldn’t answer my question to my satisfaction!”
“ARGH! You’re such a fucking prick! You selfish motherfucker! GOD! I hope Sylvia has fun with you!”
“About as much as we had? Admit it, Quatre, you can’t say that you’re over me, because you aren’t, are you?”
Quatre stared up at him in contempt, then stalked off. Trowa glared after him, but had to smirk. The blond still hadn’t admitted, in the proper way, that he was over him. Which, in turn, left him feeling rather warm and fuzzy inside...
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Felicia hummed to herself as she flicked through the library’s magazines. While the rest of her class was looking up their class assignments, she had decided to busy herself with catching up on the latest fashions in Seventeen magazine. She glanced up at her classmates, observing the way Duo and Heero worked together at a table nearby.
They are sooo gay, she thought to herself with a smirk. They were sitting so close together that from where she was sitting, she could see that Duo’s thigh was resting against Hiiro’s in a way that could only describe it as...thisclose. And the way they were trying to play it off....? Well...it appeared she had some talking to do concerning those two. She KNEW there was something going on between them, as their friendship had been somewhat...questionable. The first person she’d ask, actually, would be Relena. After all, she and Hiiro had been together a long time...yeah.
She’d find the Peacecraft chick–when she wasn’t sucking face with that Catalonia, of course (big shudder)–and scratch that idea. Just knowing that Relena and Dorothy were together in the closet doing lesbian things to each other made her sick. She clutched her stomach and repressed the urge to retch. There was something seriously wrong with females getting it on with females. It was just...gross...
She shrugged and figured she find out about it some other time. Resettling in her seat, she pulled her magazine to her face, and looked at the prom section.
Ah...the dance...she was going to the dance with Max Sheridan...she cringed and made a “D’oh!” sound. She still couldn’t believe that she’d said “yes” to that crazy/gorgeous guy’s request. But...! But...! He made it so challenging and sweet! After all, how many guys would do that sort of thing just to get her to go to some stupid high school dance? Zero. Maybe, if the timing was right, she could convince him to leave that Dullsville and hit a party somewhere...where she would hook him up with some cutie (gender not stationed quite yet, as she was thinking he was more bi than homo or straight), escape into the night with her Prada dress (or Gucci, or Miu Miu, or Dolce...or Versace...whichever was hanging in her closet at her uncle’s) and her favorite Manolos, and...hit Jimboy’s, or something. Because, really–Felicia Passage at a school dance? HAH! That would make the yearbook even AFTER she’d somehow graduated.
She rolled her eyes, snorting. Wow...that dress was cute...damn it. What was she going to wear? A dress? A set? A gown? She didn’t want to show up looking entirely cutesy like the other girls...if she was going to dress up for some guy and some stupid tradition, she was going to go all out. On THAT thought, how should she fix her hair? Leave it up? Or down? And maybe, while she was at it, get her nails done...
She stared at the worn nubs, the way a few of them were broken off into the middle, and the way one was completely missing, and...shit. Was this a JOKE? Was Max Sheridan just messing around with her? She plopped the magazine down on her lap, and found the boy working at a station, typing idly. He was sitting straight ahead of her, and hadn’t said a word to her since yesterday. She was sure he was going to bug her about details and all that, but he hadn’t! She frowned at the cut of his hair, at the way it seemed to accentuate the male curve of his shoulder and neck...she remembered how he smelled...and had to blush. She brought the magazine back up, muttering to herself.
Okay, okay, she shouldn’t make such a big deal out of it. After all, he was probably genuine...he was new, he didn’t know things, he didn’t know any better. She could show up, be herself, have him scared and screaming, running for the exit within five minutes of entering the school gym. Which would leave her free to escape into the night for a round of greasy tacos and hot sauce, and some shots down at Fred’s house on Eighty-Fourth. Yeah...
OF COURSE, Quatre wasn’t going to know about this...she was sure he wasn’t going to the dance. After all, he was in the same boat as she. Neither of them would want to be caught dead at a dance. Besides, she couldn’t imagine him kicking up a storm in the terms of ‘dancing’...she had to laugh out loud at the image of Quatre doing the dirty on the dance floor. Even though...whew...that was a pretty hot thought. She had to consider that image once more to be sure...yes...like porn.
Which reminded her, she had some overdue gay porn due to the adult video store, so she withdrew her phone and accessed the movies she’d rented. She emailed them back to the store, which gave her a prompt response in that she owed late fees. Paying twenty dollars from an electronic account, she sighed at her hard knock life and leaned back in her chair.
Yeah...just so as long as Quatre doesn’t find out about it and gives her shit about it. That would be way mucho embarrassing for her.
She then yawned, and activated her phone book, setting the magazine down on the table. Accessing a random number of an unfortunate soul, she listened to the rings on the other end. At the sound of a male ‘hello?’, she crowed, “Jigga! What are you doing?”
“Uh...why is it, whenever you talk to me, I have some fucking nickname?” Justin complained from his end. “It’s bad enough my parents gave me two first names...”
“What’s your first name?” Felicia asked curiously, propping her feet onto the table and flipping through the pages of her magazine.
“Travis.”
“‘Travis Justin’? HAH! Sucks to be you, pal. Hey, listen...did you ever talk to Jamie? After all the hard work I went through in obtaining his number? He made me give him head...I’m very traumatized by the entire thing, still, so my efforts better have been worth it.”
“...Yeah...?”
“So you did? You like? Am I successful in this match?”
“Well...considering that I’m never able to see him, and we only talk on the phone...especially when he’s military and all that, and doesn’t want to come out...I think I have to let this one go...”
Felicia sighed, hanging her head back in exasperation. “DAMN. Well, I’ll keep an eye out for someone else, ‘k?”
“You know what? You need a life. You need a man of your own. Stop setting everyone up and get with someone–Fine. You know what? I’ll look for someone for you.”
“Hoo, wow, Jigga J. That’ll be successful, considering that all guys are afraid of me, an’ shit. You try that, an’ I’ll kick your ass..mark my words, sucka. I know where you live,” she said, hanging up. She then randomly accessed another number, flipping her hair off her neck, annoyed that Justin didn’t work out with Jamie...how sad, too. It had seemed to work...
“WHAT?”
“OOH! WOW! QUAT! We’re meant to be!” she laughed, sitting up in her chair. “What are you doing?”
“I’m in detention right now!! Thanks to a certain makeup wearing prick with no soul,” came his answering growl. “Why are you calling me?”
“Eh. I’m bored. And don’t teachers usually take cells away from ya when yer in detention?” she asked curiously, looking at her nails again.
“He isn’t here, yet. So I’m sitting here, staring holes into the back of Trowa’s stupid head–”
“I heard that!” Felicia heard from the background of her phone.
“–and rotting in fucking hell. This fucking sucks. Hey, get into trouble and get in here. I need to talk to you.”
“No way, man. You’re sufferin’ succotash on yer own. I was there the other day, and let me tell ya–”
“Hey, someone wrote on the desk. ‘...just for one night...kick my ass...’ Heh. Someone was desperate, huh?”
“Gotta go!” Felicia choked, hanging up on him.
Breathing heavily, she was bewildered that Max’s message was still there. Didn’t janitors work on cleaning stuff?
She looked back to where he was sitting, and found him not there. Duo and Hiiro were laughing at something between them, and they momentarily distracted her. She had to fight not to drool. Actually...those two together in naked, hormonal bliss–change of subject! She looked for Max, spotting him talking with a flustered librarian as she tried to help him with a search on some books. Yes, even the older ladies were defenseless against his power...
Well...he was rather handsome in a good bishie way that evoked random images of Dolce and Gabbana ads and Japanese anime. He wasn’t exactly thin and fragile looking–more rather, he looked like a random teenage boy. He was thin, but not in a sickly way or in a way that had a girl fretting over in that he weighed less than her. And he was bow-legged.
Hah! That was somehow cute with his overall image. Of course, it was made hotter when she thought about him with a guy...whew. With all this thinking of guys with other guys, she had to admit that her hormones were feeling out of whack.
But anyway, Max was a catch, she was sure–she was just uncertain about his motives toward her. After all, what newbie comes up from South Carolina and beelines towards her–despite hearing about her rep–and asks her to the dance? It was just...uncalled for.
She wondered about him as she stared at him, fiddling with her phone. The longer she stared, the more convinced she was going to wear the green gown with the black Manolos...and her hair was going to be down.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
“Jared!”
Jared turned away from his classroom door, and looked behind him to see Middie racing over, looking insanely happy. She latched onto him, squealing, “I did it! I did it! I convinced Ramos to drug test his players! He’s going to start tonight...all of them will be tested!”
“Really?” Jared asked, feeling excited. He latched onto Middie’s arms, and the pair of them bounced in place, in immense joy. “This so awesome! This is great! Thanks so much for helping me!”
“No problem! He’s a thorn in my side, too! And that stuff’s already working–I mean, you saw him!”
“I DID! He was high as a kite!”
“WEEE! This is great!”
“It would have never happened if I hadn’t met you, partner!”
“Absolutely! Now,” she released him, glancing from side to side suspiciously. “If anyone tries to place the blame on us, you know nothing. Right? And the only reason I pushed Ramos was because I’m on the dance team, and we take supreme efforts to make sure everyone’s drug-free...discounting certain people, of course.”
“Of course,” Jared agreed, thinking of Trowa.
“Well...my job’s done. And yours is done. We never met, all right? Only for class...”
He nodded as she pulled away, and hurried off into the hall, giggling insanely. Feeling utterly relieved that things were finally coming to an end, Jared wiped his chin. The afternoon gaggle of students pressing toward their afternoon classes provided a certain sort of symphony in his maniacal design. Finally...Quatre Winner was going to be exposed as a closet drug user, and kicked off the team–his passion. He’d grow so disheartened with things that he’d eventually turn to more bad things, and further destroy his rep for any college ball perspectives...it was, in a better term suiting this situation...awesome.
He giggled, and hurried into his classroom.
He did not notice Max standing just a few feet away from him, curious as to what they were discussing.
He hadn’t heard much, and he certainly didn’t know what and whom they were talking about–it was just that their giggles and dance of joy had been so...villainous. He pitied the poor student they were plotting against, and shrugged as he walked into class.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
They were scheduled to play against Apollo Prestigious on their home grounds that Friday. So, as they were loading up the bus during the last of their afternoon classes, Quatre made sure to avoid Triton, taking a seat with Felicia in the very back. The pair of them were talking about God and his Word against heathens and homosexuals, and were having a very grand time with it.
But as the bus rumbled out from the driveway, Ramos stood from his seat in the very front, looking entirely grim. The team quieted as they focused on him.
“I’m going to be straight and narrow about this, team,” he began, steadying himself by placing both hands on the seats before him. “I was asked to perform random drug tests on my athletes. A sort of standard procedure. I was more than reluctant to do so, especially when it implied that I did not trust my athletes, and I doubted their cleanliness regarding the issue. Which is why it came as a shock to me as the test I performed on a random athlete came out dirty.”
Everyone looked at each other in question, mouths moving and eyes shifting about, looking at each other. Duo’s voice could be heard, saying, “Hey...where’s Brian?”
Ramos continued over the sudden hush of words. “Which is why, right now, I want to know who else will turn up a dirty drug test. As you all know, drugs are illegal and immoral, and fine athletes as yourself, and the unfortunate student taking them, should NOT be using them. They ruin your chances at a straight life... they will ruin your finances...they will ruin your future with any college and/or drafting agency that would be interested in recruiting you for your fine talent and skill. If anyone needs to talk to me, in private, regarding this issue, please see me in whole confidentiality standards, in my office. Or talk to me whenever you can, requesting a private meeting.”
“He’s just trying to get someone to suck him off for a bribe,” Felicia muttered to Quatre, who snickered, and covered his mouth. The pair of them snorted and giggled at the thought.
Ramos studied every one of his athletes, then nodded firmly. “Upon that issue, this random drug testing will take place whenever I notify you. Which will be after or before practice. You won’t know who it will be... and all tests are conducted in private. I won’t say which sort are being performed...but I hope, for your sakes, that none of you are using. It would be a sure pity to lose another talented athlete because of drugs...”
“Does Viagra count?” Paul asked from the back. Everyone laughed, Ramos giving him a scowl.
“You’re not an old man, Minogue. Having troubles already?” Ramos replied, much to the delight of the others as they began teasing the hapless senior.
“What about birth control pills?” Mariemaia whispered from her seat nearby.
“No. Those don’t count.”
“Hey, what about my meds? I’m bipolar, and I’m taking experimental stuff!” Triton called out. Of course, this earned a lot of comments about him going psychotic on the lot of them, so he had to twist Colin’s arm to make him shut up.
“No. I’m sure those are a different category than what we’re looking for...”
“So, you’re looking for specific drugs,” Felicia called out. “Does this include just Earth based stuff? Or space made junk?”
“EVERYTHING that’s illegal, and that you shouldn’t be taking,” Ramos clarified. “Whether it will be drugs that aren’t prescribed to you and belong to someone else, or majority known illegal substances, or space imported ‘junk’...of course, if that’s an issue, I’d like to see you, privately, Passage.”
“Oh, God, he’s going to make me have sex with him! I’m too young!”
“NO, NOT THAT!” Ramos replied, growing red in the face. Many of the athletes laughed, mocking both of them. “I just know that, from past experience, you may be involved in that area...”
“Hey, that’s slander!” she complained, punching Quatre when he mimicked her giving a blowjob.
“I don’t think it’s slander when it’s imprinted in your school files...” Ramos looked at everyone else. “Is this made clear?”
“Yes,” they all chorused.
“Good. Now...we’re going into Apollo’s turf tonight–keep the God jokes to a bare minimum, and somebody make sure Passage is slapped with ducktape before she walks on-court...”
“Hey!”
“Good luck, team,” Ramos said, taking his seat as the group began talking about Brian’s disappearance and other things.
Hiiro looked at Duo, shaking his head. “That was a clear cut warning. Coaches aren’t supposed to let his athletes know they’re performing tests. Takes away the ‘random surprise’.”
Duo’s eyes widened, eyebrows rising. “Coach is just warning us, huh? Aw...how thoughtful of him!”
Colin leaned over the back of their seat. “What do you think Brian was using? Ah, man, I can’t believe he was kicked off the team! Does that mean we have to recruit someone else to take his place? Or are we just gonna play with eleven all the way?”
At the answering shrugs, he took his seat, spreading one long leg over his seat. At six foot six, he was mighty uncomfortable in that tiny bus seat. Across the aisle, six foot three Otto was having similar troubles as he talked with seven foot four Winnie. At the mass of long legs crowding the aisle, Paul gingerly stepped over what he could to take a seat next to Triton.
“Hey...I heard there’s party going on in Grand Junction...”
“Yeah. I’m staying there, parental permission of course...and staying overnight,” Triton answered, waving a copy of his ‘parental permission’.
“Let me catch a ride with you.”
“There’ll be no drugs there...” Triton told him in a mock stern voice, mimicking one of Ramos’ expressions.
“Shit...still.”
“Get Ramos to let you off, and you can.”
“All right! There’s chicks, there...of course.”
“Yeah, there’s chicks!” Triton said with a frown, giving Paul a Look.
“Well, I know you’re all up on guys, too, so...seeing as I’m not like that, I kinda don’t wanna go somewhere where there isn’t any chicks,” Paul confessed.
“Yeah, there’s guys there. I mean, chicks,” Triton corrected himself with a laugh.
Colin leaned over the seat to talk to them. Dropping his voice to a low whisper, he asked, “Is it true you slept with Winner?”
Paul slugged him. “Dude...didn’t you hear what they were sayin’ when we were playing Ferndale? Shit!”
“NO! I don’t fuckin’ listen to shit like that! I was just curious because–”
“You want it, too?” Triton questioned, giving him a skeptical glance.
“NO!” Colin shouted. “I’m not like that. My girl was asking me in class...she heard from Lacy, who heard from Darrell next door to his room that you two were banging like mad.”
Triton merely grinned in remembrance of that night. All three of them glanced toward the back, where Felicia was talking a mile a minute into her cell, and Quatre was flipping through a recent Maxim. Seemingly feeling their stares, he glanced up in their direction, all three of them turning around to whisper frantically.
“Yeah...I did. I scored that ass,” Triton bragged, grinning from ear to ear.
“Damn!” Colin and Paul exclaimed.
“What was it like?” Colin asked, while Paul asked at the same time, “Are you serious? You guys together now?”
Colin looked at Paul in disgust. “Like people turn couple when they fuck, man. What are you? Some chick?”
“NO, I was just–”
“Yeah, it was good,” Triton said, drawing their attention. “The rumors were true. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“Would you do it again?”
“Yeah. No doubt. He’s practically virginal, man! I doubt Barton did much with him.”
“Ew,” Colin muttered, pulling away, but leaning back in again. “What about that Sara chick?”
“Oh, God,” Triton rolled his eyes. “That girl is fucking kinky. You want her number?”
“Yeah, pass it over?”
“Just watch out. She’ll call you ‘daddy’, and she likes to spank.”
“Dude, are you seriously happy with your lifestyle?” Paul asked him curiously, squinting his eyes. “I mean...you’re hitting both boys and girls. Which makes you happiest?”
“I don’t know,” Triton muttered, shrugging. He handed Colin a phone number written on a scrap of paper. “I guess it just depends on the person. More opportunities are granted to you when you experience the best of both worlds...”
“What kind of chick do you go for? I mean, do you like ‘em pure and clean? Or nasty?”
“Some with experience, definitely. I don’t like virgins. They think they’re in love with you afterward, and you just get into a big ole mess with them. They get all upset and cry around...girls with experience, of course. Guys, too. Though, I wouldn’t let anyone on me. I do the actions.”
Colin and Paul squinted with disgust, trying to imagine what it felt like to hump on some guy. They glanced obtrusively over at Quatre once more, who caught them staring at him. They both turned away and cringed.
“You guys ever do anal with a chick?” Triton asked them, picking at some lint on his jeans.
“Once,” Paul admitted.
“There you go. It’s like that. Except, you’re working with a dick and not a clit.”
“Still...it was so...ew. Nice and tight, but...I don’t think I’ll be doing that again...”
“Riiighhht.”
“I won’t!”
As they delved into this topic, Quatre scowled at the seniors, hating every one of them. He looked at Felicia, muttering, “They’re talking about me.”
“Why would they–? SHUT THE FUCK UP, ASSHOLE!” she commanded into her phone and hung up. “That was William. He was asking me why I wouldn’t do a threesome with Hautta and Perfect. Sometimes, I would really like to–why would they talk about you, my gay friend?”
“I...I...did something...really regrettable,” Quatre grumbled, flipping through the magazine. His actions were quick and stiffed, spurned by this unnatural rush he was feeling and his anger for Triton.
Somehow, someway, the girl flipped onto her back on the seat, feet positioned against the window, and laid her head on his thigh. “Tell Grandma all about it, sonny!”
“I...slept...with someone. Well...not ‘slept’...I had sex with–”
“EEK! You did? With WHO?”
“I...Triton.”
“Oh.” Her face fell. “We know that. Everyone knows that. You did–”
“Tuesday night?”
“...so you went back to him for seconds, so what?” she asked, disgusted that he was giving her old news.
“NO. We didn’t do anything that one night. You were...you were right. It was...it was a case of beer dick. And...that night, he came to my room, and I just...ended up...hooking up with him.”
“Was it good?”
“No. I mean, yeah, I came, but....it wasn’t something I’d like to repeat,” Quatre said, feeling squeamish as he thought about it. “And...and I know he’s telling everyone about it...”
“We’ll just talk shit back. Did he have a big dick?”
“No. Just...average, I guess.”
“Give me an estimate. Eight to ten? Three to five? Seven? I heard seven’s what everyone prefers.”
“I’d say...five. Maybe six. And it was like...poking my insides to death.”
She laughed. “Yeah...that would suck. Damn. You gay boys have all the fun.”
“What about you, you man?”
“Shit, I told you! Hautta was my only partner. Only it was like...no a reciprocation of things...? It was more like...wham-bam-I’m-angry-and-you’re-gettin’-it kinda thing. You know?”
“No.”
“Whenever Hautta was angry, things got out of control.”
“He’d rape you?”
“It...I wouldn’t consider it rape...just more like...forceful pity sex. Only...it just...sucked,” Felicia said slowly, realizing a few things as she talked. She hadn’t discussed this with anyone. Realizing that she was telling more than she wanted, she reached up to pick at his nose. “Anyway, if Triton’s talkin’ shit, I can get the word out that he totally gobbles like a turkey in bed and gave you the Clap.”
Quatre laughed, pushing her hand away from his nose. “Gross. Then people will look at me funny.”
“So? Okay, fine, he made you pregnant...male pregnancy is in, you know.”
“Gross!”
“The Fight Song” Marilyn Manson
Quatre was numb as he stared at his computer monitor, feeling utterly stunned from the night before. He had sex with Triton Bloom, and he had to admit–it wasn’t what he had thought, nor was he completely satisfied with it. In Duo’s words from previous: he won’t be curling up in front of a fishing channel anytime soon. But to know that he’d gone and done ‘it’ with Triton? Oh...the self loathing should be kicking in right about now...
“Quatre.”
Damn. It would kick in about now, and with the force of a steel toed boot right in his ass, where it was still sore and he could SWEAR he could still feel Triton’s tongue in that area. He slowly shifted his stunned focus to Trowa, and his very insides curled with absolute guilt and resolution. Just seeing and talking to the goth made him fully guilty of a crime. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if they were together...
“Yes?”
“Did you even hear what I just said?” Trowa asked, frowning at him.
Quatre realized how even that black eyeliner was. It followed those brown tinted eyelashes perfectly. Trowa would be the type of person to color inside the lines...damn him.
“Quatre?” Trowa repeated in irritation.
“I had sex with Triton last night,” Quatre confessed in a hushed whisper. He stared, wide-eyed, at Trowa to catch any response that the goth won’t say out loud.
Trowa stared back at him in mute shock, his eyes widening just slightly to show his surprise. He blinked a couple of times, then leaned back in his chair, giving Quatre a once over. The blond fretted, feeling his insides curl and jolt a couple of times as Trowa looked at him overall once more, as if seeing him for the first time.
Then...another shift in expression.
“You slept with that guy?” he repeated, his voice tinged with disgust. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”
“I...I don’t know. I just...I just...gave in, I g-guess,” Quatre stuttered, looking away from him to fiddle with cracking his knuckles. “It just...it just happened. I...”
“How can things ‘just happen’?” Trowa growled, looking away from him.
“I...I don’t know. It...then...I don’t feel good. I...my stomach’s been in knots all day, and...I can’t even look at him. I feel like...I feel like a whore, Trowa.”
“...Maybe ‘cause you are...” Trowa muttered, feeling sharp jolts of anger and jealousy, and hating himself for it. Quatre was free to do whomever he wanted...it wasn’t like they were together...but...
“I...I know. I just...it was a mistake. I didn’t think I would, but...but...” Quatre gave up on trying to explain his actions, running his hands with frustration through his hair. Why did he feel so Goddamned wired? It was as if every muscle and nerve in his body had been laced with ephedrine, or something. Every bit of him was just...excited. And his mouth was constantly dry, and his breath felt rushed...it had to be just this incident with Triton...that’s all.
“It wasn’t even good...I...”
“Will you stop talking about it? I don’t want to hear what you did with some fuckin’ guy,” Trowa barked, hating himself for feeling this way.
Quatre looked back at him, giving an injured expression, then quickly replacing it with anger.
“Sorry for living, shit,” he muttered, turning to focus on his station.
Trowa glanced at him from the corner of his eye, seeing the self-loathing and anger the blond had on his face, and sighed heavily, looking up at the ceiling. Quatre suddenly cursed, and left his chair, asking for a bathroom pass. When he was issued one, Trowa watched him leave the classroom. Moments later, there was a sound of a fist against the wall, but no one really noticed it.
Trowa felt bad for reacting the way he had–but it had been automatic. He shouldn’t be feeling this way when they were obviously separate people, but...to actually know that Quatre could do things like this...and... it just upset his own stomach and thoughts. He leaned forward onto his knees. He’d apologize for his reaction, of course. It had been obvious Quatre had trouble accepting what he did, which, in turn, made Trowa feel a little better.
He shouldn’t be feeling this way, though. It was quite upsetting for the pair of them.
He leaned back in his chair, exhaling toward the ceiling. He had no right to act toward him in that manner. What he did, and what he thought, was his business. Not Trowa’s. The goth looked at the teacher, then around the classroom. With the pretense of going to the back for some extra disks for his homework, he took the open back door out of the classroom, and headed down the hall toward the bathroom. He was going to talk to Quatre about this, and get things straightened out. He felt bad for reacting the way he had, and he shouldn’t be doing that.
He walked up to the restrooms he was sure Quatre was in, and walked in, listening for any telltale sign that he was there. He heard nothing, through, and leaned down to look under the stalls. No signs of feet, and the restroom was entirely empty...wrinkling his forehead with some thought, he walked out from the restroom and cautiously went down the hall. Once he reached the railing that kept kids from falling off the third floor, he looked down the two levels, and searched a group of freshmen that were gathered down below with a home room teacher. He was curious as to where Quatre went, and looked up at the level he was on. From where he was standing, he could access the stairway that would lead down to the first level, or if he turned left, he’d walk down a hall that was fitted with at least five classrooms. Further down was a bend that led into a hall that would lead into the technology department of the school, and far beyond that was another set of classrooms that the seniors used.
From his right was the same setup, only instead of the tech labs, there were art studios and junior level English classrooms. He pushed away from the railing, and began walking back toward his class. Where would Quatre go? If his stomach was upset, would he even use the school’s restrooms? He couldn’t remember if Quatre was the public restroom guy, or the one that held everything in until he reached a certain bathroom far from the school...
Shaking his head, figuring he’d just catch him later, Trowa headed back to class, to sneak back in without the teacher noticing he’d even left.
Meanwhile, Quatre was holding his stomach as he sat on the toilet, groaning. First of all, his stomach was very upset and was behaving strangely, and second, since he’d had sex with Triton, things didn’t seem to want to work in the way he wanted. It was a very confusing and frustrating time for him, and he could only sit there, groaning and cursing to himself, glad that no one was coming into the restroom any time soon. He was using the dormitory’s restroom, far from the main school building, because it was just embarrassing if he used a public one when he was having this much trouble.
He quietly cursed Triton’s name and the senior’s ability to thrust and pump for seemingly hours, and winced as his insides curdled and banged against each other. Why was he feeling this way? What was wrong with him? He still felt wired as hell, and he didn’t know why or how. His entire body felt like it was racing against time, functioning in a rushed way that was very uncomfortable for him.
After that was over with, he left the stall, wiping sweat from his forehead. He washed his hands, and leaned against the sink, trying to will his heart to stop beating so damn fast. He glanced at his watch, and cursed again. He’d been gone for over twenty minutes, and his teacher was going to be pissed at him, thinking he was merely fooling around.
He hurried out from the bathroom, wincing as he felt the soreness of his ass. He cursed Triton again as he made his way back to the main school building. Damn, he was really thirsty...he stopped at the vending machine, first, then headed back to class. Indeed, his teacher wanted to talk to him after class, but Quatre didn’t care–he’d just explain how he felt and that he’d consider taking the rest of the day off.
The class was immersed in assigned work, so when Quatre sat down (rather painfully), he focused on his assignment, and strived to complete it. But it still felt as through he were in a race, and he couldn’t get things done fast enough. Plus, add to the fact that he felt as if he were detached from everything, in a wholly unusual way...
He shook his head, trying to concentrate on the screen. He faintly heard Trowa trying to talk to him, but he ignored the goth, a little more than upset about his reaction earlier to what he’d confessed. Trowa finally just ended up jerking on his arm, pulling him out of his concentration.
“What?” he snarled, jerking his arm back. “What the fuck do you want?”
Trowa took a patient breath, lifting an eyebrow. “Are you all right?”
“I’m FINE.”
“You don’t look it. Are you sick?”
“NO! Not that you care, anyway.”
“Look, I’m really sorry for how I reacted to your news, all right? It just...it just doesn’t settle with me when I know you’re with other people...”
“Like it’s any of your business!” Quatre cried, giving him an exasperated expression.
“WINNER! BARTON! Do I have to separate you two?” the teacher asked, giving a scowl in their direction. The pair of them turned back to their respective stations, and he resumed his lecture while the students worked.
Quatre scowled at Trowa before refocusing on his assignment. Slumping in his seat so that he wasn’t visible to the teacher, Trowa stared at him with a blank expression, shifting his hands into his pants pockets. Finally, Quatre grew irritated by his staring and glared at him.
“I’m sorry,” Trowa repeated, softly, so that he wasn’t heard by the teacher.
“Stay out of my business.”
“Look...I want to make peace with you, all right? Yes, I shouldn’t have reacted that way toward you. I... I have no right to say shit like that, and that we aren’t together anymore, so I shouldn’t be acting this way. It’s hard for me, though. We were together for over a year, Quatre. We were connected so closely to each other. Sometimes, it’s hard to let go.”
“Trowa,” Quatre growled underneath his breath, giving him a frustrated expression. “We broke up in November. It’s February, now. Shouldn’t that have been more than enough time for us to get over ‘things’?”
“Are you completely over things?” Trowa shot back, glancing at the teacher to make sure he hadn’t heard them talk. He looked back at Quatre, feeling somewhat pleased at the lack of a rapid reply.
Quatre frowned at him, then ran a hand through his hair.
“Yes,” he grumbled, even though he couldn’t look Trowa in the eye when he did.
Trowa stared at him, lifting an eyebrow once more. Brushing his bang from his face, he repeated the question again.
“YES!” Quatre growled again, using his elbow to shove him away.
“Then why can’t you look me in the eye and say it?” Trowa challenged.
“God! Get over it, you psychopath! You got your own thing going, and I got mine. I’m sorry if I discussed it with you in the first fucking place. I shouldn’t have. There are others I can talk to regarding this situation, and I don’t need you on my ass, whining around about it.”
“Well, fine! Goddamn, Quatre...”
“‘Goddamn’ yourself, Barton. Leave me alone.”
“I was just saying–!”
“BARTON! WINNER! Get up here. Grab your stuff, and get up here right now.”
“Shit,” Quatre muttered as Trowa gave the teacher an exasperated expression.
Both of them logged off their programs, gathered their things, and walked up to the front desk, much to the interest of their classmates. Somewhere in the back, Jared snickered, and Middie squelched one of her own.
“You both have detention. You may serve them during lunchtime,” the instructor said, filling out a couple of slips and passing them to them. “You can go now, since class is almost over, and what you had to talk about was obviously unable to WAIT ten minutes...Go. And consider your assignment failed...”
“But–! But–!” Quatre stammered, thinking of his grades. “Can’t we make it up?”
“No. Go. Before I have Ramos bench you for the rest of the season. I’m annoyed enough as it is, Winner,” the man snarled, glaring at him, then at Trowa.
The two filed out, Quatre grumbling underneath his breath. He gave Trowa an elbow jab, the goth yelping in surprise and pain.
“You bastard. Look at what you did!”
“What ‘I’ did? Fucker, you’re the one making me talk!”
“I didn’t make you talk! You talked all on your fucking own!”
“You made me talk because you wouldn’t answer my question to my satisfaction!”
“ARGH! You’re such a fucking prick! You selfish motherfucker! GOD! I hope Sylvia has fun with you!”
“About as much as we had? Admit it, Quatre, you can’t say that you’re over me, because you aren’t, are you?”
Quatre stared up at him in contempt, then stalked off. Trowa glared after him, but had to smirk. The blond still hadn’t admitted, in the proper way, that he was over him. Which, in turn, left him feeling rather warm and fuzzy inside...
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
Felicia hummed to herself as she flicked through the library’s magazines. While the rest of her class was looking up their class assignments, she had decided to busy herself with catching up on the latest fashions in Seventeen magazine. She glanced up at her classmates, observing the way Duo and Heero worked together at a table nearby.
They are sooo gay, she thought to herself with a smirk. They were sitting so close together that from where she was sitting, she could see that Duo’s thigh was resting against Hiiro’s in a way that could only describe it as...thisclose. And the way they were trying to play it off....? Well...it appeared she had some talking to do concerning those two. She KNEW there was something going on between them, as their friendship had been somewhat...questionable. The first person she’d ask, actually, would be Relena. After all, she and Hiiro had been together a long time...yeah.
She’d find the Peacecraft chick–when she wasn’t sucking face with that Catalonia, of course (big shudder)–and scratch that idea. Just knowing that Relena and Dorothy were together in the closet doing lesbian things to each other made her sick. She clutched her stomach and repressed the urge to retch. There was something seriously wrong with females getting it on with females. It was just...gross...
She shrugged and figured she find out about it some other time. Resettling in her seat, she pulled her magazine to her face, and looked at the prom section.
Ah...the dance...she was going to the dance with Max Sheridan...she cringed and made a “D’oh!” sound. She still couldn’t believe that she’d said “yes” to that crazy/gorgeous guy’s request. But...! But...! He made it so challenging and sweet! After all, how many guys would do that sort of thing just to get her to go to some stupid high school dance? Zero. Maybe, if the timing was right, she could convince him to leave that Dullsville and hit a party somewhere...where she would hook him up with some cutie (gender not stationed quite yet, as she was thinking he was more bi than homo or straight), escape into the night with her Prada dress (or Gucci, or Miu Miu, or Dolce...or Versace...whichever was hanging in her closet at her uncle’s) and her favorite Manolos, and...hit Jimboy’s, or something. Because, really–Felicia Passage at a school dance? HAH! That would make the yearbook even AFTER she’d somehow graduated.
She rolled her eyes, snorting. Wow...that dress was cute...damn it. What was she going to wear? A dress? A set? A gown? She didn’t want to show up looking entirely cutesy like the other girls...if she was going to dress up for some guy and some stupid tradition, she was going to go all out. On THAT thought, how should she fix her hair? Leave it up? Or down? And maybe, while she was at it, get her nails done...
She stared at the worn nubs, the way a few of them were broken off into the middle, and the way one was completely missing, and...shit. Was this a JOKE? Was Max Sheridan just messing around with her? She plopped the magazine down on her lap, and found the boy working at a station, typing idly. He was sitting straight ahead of her, and hadn’t said a word to her since yesterday. She was sure he was going to bug her about details and all that, but he hadn’t! She frowned at the cut of his hair, at the way it seemed to accentuate the male curve of his shoulder and neck...she remembered how he smelled...and had to blush. She brought the magazine back up, muttering to herself.
Okay, okay, she shouldn’t make such a big deal out of it. After all, he was probably genuine...he was new, he didn’t know things, he didn’t know any better. She could show up, be herself, have him scared and screaming, running for the exit within five minutes of entering the school gym. Which would leave her free to escape into the night for a round of greasy tacos and hot sauce, and some shots down at Fred’s house on Eighty-Fourth. Yeah...
OF COURSE, Quatre wasn’t going to know about this...she was sure he wasn’t going to the dance. After all, he was in the same boat as she. Neither of them would want to be caught dead at a dance. Besides, she couldn’t imagine him kicking up a storm in the terms of ‘dancing’...she had to laugh out loud at the image of Quatre doing the dirty on the dance floor. Even though...whew...that was a pretty hot thought. She had to consider that image once more to be sure...yes...like porn.
Which reminded her, she had some overdue gay porn due to the adult video store, so she withdrew her phone and accessed the movies she’d rented. She emailed them back to the store, which gave her a prompt response in that she owed late fees. Paying twenty dollars from an electronic account, she sighed at her hard knock life and leaned back in her chair.
Yeah...just so as long as Quatre doesn’t find out about it and gives her shit about it. That would be way mucho embarrassing for her.
She then yawned, and activated her phone book, setting the magazine down on the table. Accessing a random number of an unfortunate soul, she listened to the rings on the other end. At the sound of a male ‘hello?’, she crowed, “Jigga! What are you doing?”
“Uh...why is it, whenever you talk to me, I have some fucking nickname?” Justin complained from his end. “It’s bad enough my parents gave me two first names...”
“What’s your first name?” Felicia asked curiously, propping her feet onto the table and flipping through the pages of her magazine.
“Travis.”
“‘Travis Justin’? HAH! Sucks to be you, pal. Hey, listen...did you ever talk to Jamie? After all the hard work I went through in obtaining his number? He made me give him head...I’m very traumatized by the entire thing, still, so my efforts better have been worth it.”
“...Yeah...?”
“So you did? You like? Am I successful in this match?”
“Well...considering that I’m never able to see him, and we only talk on the phone...especially when he’s military and all that, and doesn’t want to come out...I think I have to let this one go...”
Felicia sighed, hanging her head back in exasperation. “DAMN. Well, I’ll keep an eye out for someone else, ‘k?”
“You know what? You need a life. You need a man of your own. Stop setting everyone up and get with someone–Fine. You know what? I’ll look for someone for you.”
“Hoo, wow, Jigga J. That’ll be successful, considering that all guys are afraid of me, an’ shit. You try that, an’ I’ll kick your ass..mark my words, sucka. I know where you live,” she said, hanging up. She then randomly accessed another number, flipping her hair off her neck, annoyed that Justin didn’t work out with Jamie...how sad, too. It had seemed to work...
“WHAT?”
“OOH! WOW! QUAT! We’re meant to be!” she laughed, sitting up in her chair. “What are you doing?”
“I’m in detention right now!! Thanks to a certain makeup wearing prick with no soul,” came his answering growl. “Why are you calling me?”
“Eh. I’m bored. And don’t teachers usually take cells away from ya when yer in detention?” she asked curiously, looking at her nails again.
“He isn’t here, yet. So I’m sitting here, staring holes into the back of Trowa’s stupid head–”
“I heard that!” Felicia heard from the background of her phone.
“–and rotting in fucking hell. This fucking sucks. Hey, get into trouble and get in here. I need to talk to you.”
“No way, man. You’re sufferin’ succotash on yer own. I was there the other day, and let me tell ya–”
“Hey, someone wrote on the desk. ‘...just for one night...kick my ass...’ Heh. Someone was desperate, huh?”
“Gotta go!” Felicia choked, hanging up on him.
Breathing heavily, she was bewildered that Max’s message was still there. Didn’t janitors work on cleaning stuff?
She looked back to where he was sitting, and found him not there. Duo and Hiiro were laughing at something between them, and they momentarily distracted her. She had to fight not to drool. Actually...those two together in naked, hormonal bliss–change of subject! She looked for Max, spotting him talking with a flustered librarian as she tried to help him with a search on some books. Yes, even the older ladies were defenseless against his power...
Well...he was rather handsome in a good bishie way that evoked random images of Dolce and Gabbana ads and Japanese anime. He wasn’t exactly thin and fragile looking–more rather, he looked like a random teenage boy. He was thin, but not in a sickly way or in a way that had a girl fretting over in that he weighed less than her. And he was bow-legged.
Hah! That was somehow cute with his overall image. Of course, it was made hotter when she thought about him with a guy...whew. With all this thinking of guys with other guys, she had to admit that her hormones were feeling out of whack.
But anyway, Max was a catch, she was sure–she was just uncertain about his motives toward her. After all, what newbie comes up from South Carolina and beelines towards her–despite hearing about her rep–and asks her to the dance? It was just...uncalled for.
She wondered about him as she stared at him, fiddling with her phone. The longer she stared, the more convinced she was going to wear the green gown with the black Manolos...and her hair was going to be down.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
“Jared!”
Jared turned away from his classroom door, and looked behind him to see Middie racing over, looking insanely happy. She latched onto him, squealing, “I did it! I did it! I convinced Ramos to drug test his players! He’s going to start tonight...all of them will be tested!”
“Really?” Jared asked, feeling excited. He latched onto Middie’s arms, and the pair of them bounced in place, in immense joy. “This so awesome! This is great! Thanks so much for helping me!”
“No problem! He’s a thorn in my side, too! And that stuff’s already working–I mean, you saw him!”
“I DID! He was high as a kite!”
“WEEE! This is great!”
“It would have never happened if I hadn’t met you, partner!”
“Absolutely! Now,” she released him, glancing from side to side suspiciously. “If anyone tries to place the blame on us, you know nothing. Right? And the only reason I pushed Ramos was because I’m on the dance team, and we take supreme efforts to make sure everyone’s drug-free...discounting certain people, of course.”
“Of course,” Jared agreed, thinking of Trowa.
“Well...my job’s done. And yours is done. We never met, all right? Only for class...”
He nodded as she pulled away, and hurried off into the hall, giggling insanely. Feeling utterly relieved that things were finally coming to an end, Jared wiped his chin. The afternoon gaggle of students pressing toward their afternoon classes provided a certain sort of symphony in his maniacal design. Finally...Quatre Winner was going to be exposed as a closet drug user, and kicked off the team–his passion. He’d grow so disheartened with things that he’d eventually turn to more bad things, and further destroy his rep for any college ball perspectives...it was, in a better term suiting this situation...awesome.
He giggled, and hurried into his classroom.
He did not notice Max standing just a few feet away from him, curious as to what they were discussing.
He hadn’t heard much, and he certainly didn’t know what and whom they were talking about–it was just that their giggles and dance of joy had been so...villainous. He pitied the poor student they were plotting against, and shrugged as he walked into class.
#20#20#20#20#20#20#20
They were scheduled to play against Apollo Prestigious on their home grounds that Friday. So, as they were loading up the bus during the last of their afternoon classes, Quatre made sure to avoid Triton, taking a seat with Felicia in the very back. The pair of them were talking about God and his Word against heathens and homosexuals, and were having a very grand time with it.
But as the bus rumbled out from the driveway, Ramos stood from his seat in the very front, looking entirely grim. The team quieted as they focused on him.
“I’m going to be straight and narrow about this, team,” he began, steadying himself by placing both hands on the seats before him. “I was asked to perform random drug tests on my athletes. A sort of standard procedure. I was more than reluctant to do so, especially when it implied that I did not trust my athletes, and I doubted their cleanliness regarding the issue. Which is why it came as a shock to me as the test I performed on a random athlete came out dirty.”
Everyone looked at each other in question, mouths moving and eyes shifting about, looking at each other. Duo’s voice could be heard, saying, “Hey...where’s Brian?”
Ramos continued over the sudden hush of words. “Which is why, right now, I want to know who else will turn up a dirty drug test. As you all know, drugs are illegal and immoral, and fine athletes as yourself, and the unfortunate student taking them, should NOT be using them. They ruin your chances at a straight life... they will ruin your finances...they will ruin your future with any college and/or drafting agency that would be interested in recruiting you for your fine talent and skill. If anyone needs to talk to me, in private, regarding this issue, please see me in whole confidentiality standards, in my office. Or talk to me whenever you can, requesting a private meeting.”
“He’s just trying to get someone to suck him off for a bribe,” Felicia muttered to Quatre, who snickered, and covered his mouth. The pair of them snorted and giggled at the thought.
Ramos studied every one of his athletes, then nodded firmly. “Upon that issue, this random drug testing will take place whenever I notify you. Which will be after or before practice. You won’t know who it will be... and all tests are conducted in private. I won’t say which sort are being performed...but I hope, for your sakes, that none of you are using. It would be a sure pity to lose another talented athlete because of drugs...”
“Does Viagra count?” Paul asked from the back. Everyone laughed, Ramos giving him a scowl.
“You’re not an old man, Minogue. Having troubles already?” Ramos replied, much to the delight of the others as they began teasing the hapless senior.
“What about birth control pills?” Mariemaia whispered from her seat nearby.
“No. Those don’t count.”
“Hey, what about my meds? I’m bipolar, and I’m taking experimental stuff!” Triton called out. Of course, this earned a lot of comments about him going psychotic on the lot of them, so he had to twist Colin’s arm to make him shut up.
“No. I’m sure those are a different category than what we’re looking for...”
“So, you’re looking for specific drugs,” Felicia called out. “Does this include just Earth based stuff? Or space made junk?”
“EVERYTHING that’s illegal, and that you shouldn’t be taking,” Ramos clarified. “Whether it will be drugs that aren’t prescribed to you and belong to someone else, or majority known illegal substances, or space imported ‘junk’...of course, if that’s an issue, I’d like to see you, privately, Passage.”
“Oh, God, he’s going to make me have sex with him! I’m too young!”
“NO, NOT THAT!” Ramos replied, growing red in the face. Many of the athletes laughed, mocking both of them. “I just know that, from past experience, you may be involved in that area...”
“Hey, that’s slander!” she complained, punching Quatre when he mimicked her giving a blowjob.
“I don’t think it’s slander when it’s imprinted in your school files...” Ramos looked at everyone else. “Is this made clear?”
“Yes,” they all chorused.
“Good. Now...we’re going into Apollo’s turf tonight–keep the God jokes to a bare minimum, and somebody make sure Passage is slapped with ducktape before she walks on-court...”
“Hey!”
“Good luck, team,” Ramos said, taking his seat as the group began talking about Brian’s disappearance and other things.
Hiiro looked at Duo, shaking his head. “That was a clear cut warning. Coaches aren’t supposed to let his athletes know they’re performing tests. Takes away the ‘random surprise’.”
Duo’s eyes widened, eyebrows rising. “Coach is just warning us, huh? Aw...how thoughtful of him!”
Colin leaned over the back of their seat. “What do you think Brian was using? Ah, man, I can’t believe he was kicked off the team! Does that mean we have to recruit someone else to take his place? Or are we just gonna play with eleven all the way?”
At the answering shrugs, he took his seat, spreading one long leg over his seat. At six foot six, he was mighty uncomfortable in that tiny bus seat. Across the aisle, six foot three Otto was having similar troubles as he talked with seven foot four Winnie. At the mass of long legs crowding the aisle, Paul gingerly stepped over what he could to take a seat next to Triton.
“Hey...I heard there’s party going on in Grand Junction...”
“Yeah. I’m staying there, parental permission of course...and staying overnight,” Triton answered, waving a copy of his ‘parental permission’.
“Let me catch a ride with you.”
“There’ll be no drugs there...” Triton told him in a mock stern voice, mimicking one of Ramos’ expressions.
“Shit...still.”
“Get Ramos to let you off, and you can.”
“All right! There’s chicks, there...of course.”
“Yeah, there’s chicks!” Triton said with a frown, giving Paul a Look.
“Well, I know you’re all up on guys, too, so...seeing as I’m not like that, I kinda don’t wanna go somewhere where there isn’t any chicks,” Paul confessed.
“Yeah, there’s guys there. I mean, chicks,” Triton corrected himself with a laugh.
Colin leaned over the seat to talk to them. Dropping his voice to a low whisper, he asked, “Is it true you slept with Winner?”
Paul slugged him. “Dude...didn’t you hear what they were sayin’ when we were playing Ferndale? Shit!”
“NO! I don’t fuckin’ listen to shit like that! I was just curious because–”
“You want it, too?” Triton questioned, giving him a skeptical glance.
“NO!” Colin shouted. “I’m not like that. My girl was asking me in class...she heard from Lacy, who heard from Darrell next door to his room that you two were banging like mad.”
Triton merely grinned in remembrance of that night. All three of them glanced toward the back, where Felicia was talking a mile a minute into her cell, and Quatre was flipping through a recent Maxim. Seemingly feeling their stares, he glanced up in their direction, all three of them turning around to whisper frantically.
“Yeah...I did. I scored that ass,” Triton bragged, grinning from ear to ear.
“Damn!” Colin and Paul exclaimed.
“What was it like?” Colin asked, while Paul asked at the same time, “Are you serious? You guys together now?”
Colin looked at Paul in disgust. “Like people turn couple when they fuck, man. What are you? Some chick?”
“NO, I was just–”
“Yeah, it was good,” Triton said, drawing their attention. “The rumors were true. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“Would you do it again?”
“Yeah. No doubt. He’s practically virginal, man! I doubt Barton did much with him.”
“Ew,” Colin muttered, pulling away, but leaning back in again. “What about that Sara chick?”
“Oh, God,” Triton rolled his eyes. “That girl is fucking kinky. You want her number?”
“Yeah, pass it over?”
“Just watch out. She’ll call you ‘daddy’, and she likes to spank.”
“Dude, are you seriously happy with your lifestyle?” Paul asked him curiously, squinting his eyes. “I mean...you’re hitting both boys and girls. Which makes you happiest?”
“I don’t know,” Triton muttered, shrugging. He handed Colin a phone number written on a scrap of paper. “I guess it just depends on the person. More opportunities are granted to you when you experience the best of both worlds...”
“What kind of chick do you go for? I mean, do you like ‘em pure and clean? Or nasty?”
“Some with experience, definitely. I don’t like virgins. They think they’re in love with you afterward, and you just get into a big ole mess with them. They get all upset and cry around...girls with experience, of course. Guys, too. Though, I wouldn’t let anyone on me. I do the actions.”
Colin and Paul squinted with disgust, trying to imagine what it felt like to hump on some guy. They glanced obtrusively over at Quatre once more, who caught them staring at him. They both turned away and cringed.
“You guys ever do anal with a chick?” Triton asked them, picking at some lint on his jeans.
“Once,” Paul admitted.
“There you go. It’s like that. Except, you’re working with a dick and not a clit.”
“Still...it was so...ew. Nice and tight, but...I don’t think I’ll be doing that again...”
“Riiighhht.”
“I won’t!”
As they delved into this topic, Quatre scowled at the seniors, hating every one of them. He looked at Felicia, muttering, “They’re talking about me.”
“Why would they–? SHUT THE FUCK UP, ASSHOLE!” she commanded into her phone and hung up. “That was William. He was asking me why I wouldn’t do a threesome with Hautta and Perfect. Sometimes, I would really like to–why would they talk about you, my gay friend?”
“I...I...did something...really regrettable,” Quatre grumbled, flipping through the magazine. His actions were quick and stiffed, spurned by this unnatural rush he was feeling and his anger for Triton.
Somehow, someway, the girl flipped onto her back on the seat, feet positioned against the window, and laid her head on his thigh. “Tell Grandma all about it, sonny!”
“I...slept...with someone. Well...not ‘slept’...I had sex with–”
“EEK! You did? With WHO?”
“I...Triton.”
“Oh.” Her face fell. “We know that. Everyone knows that. You did–”
“Tuesday night?”
“...so you went back to him for seconds, so what?” she asked, disgusted that he was giving her old news.
“NO. We didn’t do anything that one night. You were...you were right. It was...it was a case of beer dick. And...that night, he came to my room, and I just...ended up...hooking up with him.”
“Was it good?”
“No. I mean, yeah, I came, but....it wasn’t something I’d like to repeat,” Quatre said, feeling squeamish as he thought about it. “And...and I know he’s telling everyone about it...”
“We’ll just talk shit back. Did he have a big dick?”
“No. Just...average, I guess.”
“Give me an estimate. Eight to ten? Three to five? Seven? I heard seven’s what everyone prefers.”
“I’d say...five. Maybe six. And it was like...poking my insides to death.”
She laughed. “Yeah...that would suck. Damn. You gay boys have all the fun.”
“What about you, you man?”
“Shit, I told you! Hautta was my only partner. Only it was like...no a reciprocation of things...? It was more like...wham-bam-I’m-angry-and-you’re-gettin’-it kinda thing. You know?”
“No.”
“Whenever Hautta was angry, things got out of control.”
“He’d rape you?”
“It...I wouldn’t consider it rape...just more like...forceful pity sex. Only...it just...sucked,” Felicia said slowly, realizing a few things as she talked. She hadn’t discussed this with anyone. Realizing that she was telling more than she wanted, she reached up to pick at his nose. “Anyway, if Triton’s talkin’ shit, I can get the word out that he totally gobbles like a turkey in bed and gave you the Clap.”
Quatre laughed, pushing her hand away from his nose. “Gross. Then people will look at me funny.”
“So? Okay, fine, he made you pregnant...male pregnancy is in, you know.”
“Gross!”