even though I prolly totally suck
At the risk of looking like a complete idiot, I wrote HoneySyn fic.
Yeah.
Fanfiction for a webcomic thing. (Insert disclaimer!! Not mine!!!)
Anyway, I started reading it this past weekend - damn thign only updates on Saturdays - and couldn't help but notice that we've got these high school stereotypes going on and AU HS fanfic-like drama... So.
Title: Breakfast Club
Pairing: Josh/Metis
Summary: Have you ever danced with the devil by the pale moon light? Metis sucks at calculus. Saturday detention sucks. Josh is the Lion.
Dedication: For
dual_avi, of course. Else this comm would have a different name.
___
Saturday morning.
Detention.
Sucks.
Metis crosses out the first line of the poem he’s started to write - damn emo stereotypes be damned but he sucks at this - and drops his head onto the hardwood desk in the very epitome of all unsigned but universally understood sign languages for the definition of “in the doldrums of (insert whatever)”. So. Saturday detention. Metis isn’t sure how he got here, but it has something to do with failing miserably on that last calculus test and “forgetting” that the teacher arranged for him to see a tutor. Ah, so that explains the twenty page calculus work packet sitting in front of him withHave you ever danced with the devil by the pale moon light? crossed out in the margin.
There are only two other people in the room - or rather, the library, where Saturday detention is held - and Metis is wary of both.
He’s pretty damned sure that Charles didn’t have anything better to do. That, or he’s up to something, because the other person is Josh.
Metis has been thinking lately that maybe Fate is a bitch. A sequin high heeled wearing drag queen bitch. Because since the day Josh - insert “most popular guy in school” stereotype - punched him and then promptly forgot about it, Charles has taken an active, somewhat creepy interest in their interactions. Always grinning that “I know something you don’t know” smirk grin of the antichrist, unblinking, eyes alight.
Josh, for his part, is staring straight ahead. Metis doesn’t know why he’s here, but he sincerely hopes that Fate has been a bitch to him, too. Maybe he’s here for punching another kid, losing his temper again because the whole school’s whispering about him getting dumped by his girlfriend, even though it’s been near on a month and probably old news. Who knows?
“Find the slope of the tangent line to f at a…” Lines. Limits. Metis rolls the words quietly off his tongue like a foreign language. What the hell?
Confusion looks like this: f (x) = 2x2 - 3, g (x) = 3x2 - 1 / 1 - x2
“Use your result to write the equation of the tangent line to f at x = 1…”
Charles, two chairs away and within earshot of his madman’s whisper frantic, looks like the cat that got the cream. He’s no genius at this, either, but Metis thinks he might be able to at least help.
Right.
“I’ll buy you lunch.”
“No talking in detention,” his ‘best friend’ murmurs silkily.
Metis crumbles and drops his head onto the desk. Have you ever danced with the devil by the pale moon light?
The clock ticks. Calculus sucks. Metis chews thoughtfully on the eraser end of his pencil. What would Jaime Escalante say? If I teach you sex, I have to give you sex for homework.
Uh… no.
“Find the slope of the tangent…”
“Need help?”
Metis promptly falls backward. And crashes. He looks up and expects to see Charles grinning down at him, but he’s gone.
“What?”
“Start by substituting a for x."
The jock is actually pulling up a chair to sit with the emo. The Apocalypse. Like the Lion and the Lamb. Metis isn’t sure which one he is.
There’s confusion, and there’s solutions. Slowly - not noticing Charles reenter the room watching like he’s stepped into an 80’s Hughes movie for his own private viewing - they figure out equation.
“…So there’s no change, since g is even?”
“Exactly.”
Metis thinks that he might be the lamb.
And Josh is kissing him.
Simple, real, logical. His wrist locking and pushing Metis’s hand out of the way in I’m trying to kiss you, here silent protest aggressive touch that’s undeniably sexy - wait, where did that thought come from? - and Metis crashes. Again. Somewhere in the back of the room, half hidden in the history section with Ecce Homo, Charles laughs quietly.
Oh.
Oh, shit.
“Do you need help with the rest?” Josh asks, fingering the pages. There are at least twenty more huge derivative problems. Twenty more kisses and the chance to not make a complete fool of himself by crashing after each one? Metis knows how to do that math, at least. He nods.
Have you ever danced with the devil by the pale moon light?
Why yes, actually. And it was rather pleasant.
Yeah.
Fanfiction for a webcomic thing. (Insert disclaimer!! Not mine!!!)
Anyway, I started reading it this past weekend - damn thign only updates on Saturdays - and couldn't help but notice that we've got these high school stereotypes going on and AU HS fanfic-like drama... So.
Title: Breakfast Club
Pairing: Josh/Metis
Summary: Have you ever danced with the devil by the pale moon light? Metis sucks at calculus. Saturday detention sucks. Josh is the Lion.
Dedication: For
dual_avi, of course. Else this comm would have a different name.
___
Saturday morning.
Detention.
Sucks.
Metis crosses out the first line of the poem he’s started to write - damn emo stereotypes be damned but he sucks at this - and drops his head onto the hardwood desk in the very epitome of all unsigned but universally understood sign languages for the definition of “in the doldrums of (insert whatever)”. So. Saturday detention. Metis isn’t sure how he got here, but it has something to do with failing miserably on that last calculus test and “forgetting” that the teacher arranged for him to see a tutor. Ah, so that explains the twenty page calculus work packet sitting in front of him withHave you ever danced with the devil by the pale moon light? crossed out in the margin.
There are only two other people in the room - or rather, the library, where Saturday detention is held - and Metis is wary of both.
He’s pretty damned sure that Charles didn’t have anything better to do. That, or he’s up to something, because the other person is Josh.
Metis has been thinking lately that maybe Fate is a bitch. A sequin high heeled wearing drag queen bitch. Because since the day Josh - insert “most popular guy in school” stereotype - punched him and then promptly forgot about it, Charles has taken an active, somewhat creepy interest in their interactions. Always grinning that “I know something you don’t know” smirk grin of the antichrist, unblinking, eyes alight.
Josh, for his part, is staring straight ahead. Metis doesn’t know why he’s here, but he sincerely hopes that Fate has been a bitch to him, too. Maybe he’s here for punching another kid, losing his temper again because the whole school’s whispering about him getting dumped by his girlfriend, even though it’s been near on a month and probably old news. Who knows?
“Find the slope of the tangent line to f at a…” Lines. Limits. Metis rolls the words quietly off his tongue like a foreign language. What the hell?
Confusion looks like this: f (x) = 2x2 - 3, g (x) = 3x2 - 1 / 1 - x2
“Use your result to write the equation of the tangent line to f at x = 1…”
Charles, two chairs away and within earshot of his madman’s whisper frantic, looks like the cat that got the cream. He’s no genius at this, either, but Metis thinks he might be able to at least help.
Right.
“I’ll buy you lunch.”
“No talking in detention,” his ‘best friend’ murmurs silkily.
Metis crumbles and drops his head onto the desk. Have you ever danced with the devil by the pale moon light?
The clock ticks. Calculus sucks. Metis chews thoughtfully on the eraser end of his pencil. What would Jaime Escalante say? If I teach you sex, I have to give you sex for homework.
Uh… no.
“Find the slope of the tangent…”
“Need help?”
Metis promptly falls backward. And crashes. He looks up and expects to see Charles grinning down at him, but he’s gone.
“What?”
“Start by substituting a for x."
The jock is actually pulling up a chair to sit with the emo. The Apocalypse. Like the Lion and the Lamb. Metis isn’t sure which one he is.
There’s confusion, and there’s solutions. Slowly - not noticing Charles reenter the room watching like he’s stepped into an 80’s Hughes movie for his own private viewing - they figure out equation.
“…So there’s no change, since g is even?”
“Exactly.”
Metis thinks that he might be the lamb.
And Josh is kissing him.
Simple, real, logical. His wrist locking and pushing Metis’s hand out of the way in I’m trying to kiss you, here silent protest aggressive touch that’s undeniably sexy - wait, where did that thought come from? - and Metis crashes. Again. Somewhere in the back of the room, half hidden in the history section with Ecce Homo, Charles laughs quietly.
Oh.
Oh, shit.
“Do you need help with the rest?” Josh asks, fingering the pages. There are at least twenty more huge derivative problems. Twenty more kisses and the chance to not make a complete fool of himself by crashing after each one? Metis knows how to do that math, at least. He nods.
Have you ever danced with the devil by the pale moon light?
Why yes, actually. And it was rather pleasant.