Fic: The First Annual We-Hate-Buffy-Summers Club Meeting for bitterbyrden
Title: The First Meeting of the We-Hate-Buffy-Summers Club
Author: Vanilla Tiger
Recipient: bitterbyrden
Request: Warren paired with a really random secondary character, romantically or not. Set in high school
gym class (or lack thereof), mention of centrifugal force. Larry. Percy. Holden. Tucker. Freddie. Jesse (*** for that). Swim team. Etc.
Rating: PG
Setting: Late season three.
AN: Sorry it's so late.
It was another glorious summer day in California, the type to make parents everywhere to tell the kids to stop bugging them and get the hell outside and play. However, as it was a school day this was unlikely. The teachers, expected to act vaguely in loco parentis, did their best to echo this behaviour by forcing their charges outside for the one form of enforced physical labour not banned by law - gym class.
Of course, not every student at Sunnydale High was going to put up with this. There were the rebels, the outsiders, those who simply refused to let a timetable dictate their every move, …those who simply hadn't got their required reading done in time. An assorted group of these misfits had assembled in the basement where they all quietly got on with their various tasks. In fact, Warren was so absorbed with his blueprints (he was currently working on a plan to harness the kinetic energy created by a centrifugal device into some type of weapon) that it took him a second to register that anyone had spoken.
"Where's …the short one?" Freddy asked, with a vague gesture that nevertheless somehow managed to encapsulate the very essence of shortness.
"Jonathan?" was Warren's immediate reply - the only person who could somehow fit in with the ineffable shortness of that gesture.
Freddy nodded. "Doesn't he usually hang with you guys?" It was true. Warren, Tucker and Jonathan (with Andrew usually tagging along behind) made a habit of hanging out here and often saw Freddy here working on an article on the days when he was hiding in fear from the jocks after another scathing critique of the football team. Today Jonathan's place had been taken by some guy Warren vaguely remembered from his European History class. He had introduced himself as Holden Webster, and at the unwelcoming stares sat himself in a corner to catch up on his AP English.
Beside him Tucker automatically tensed at Freddy's comment. It took Warren a moment too to realise that was no actual insult, implied or otherwise, in the question. It was simply that Freddy's normally cynical mode of thinking was so engrained that it left trace amounts of sarcasm in all his speech. Warren could appreciate that, especially as a guy who indulged in over two hundred percent of his recommended daily allowance.
"Girls are running track today," he explained. Which helped explain why Escaping Physical Exertion and Associated Humiliation 101 was emptier than usual.
Freddy rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't have put him down with the rest of the hormone-addled crowd entranced by the sight of a tight white T-shirt." He paused and then continued in a more speculative manner. "Though he does have a touch of potential obsessive stalker about him, but more pathetic than threatening."
"It's not the T-shirts, more what's under them. …And the effect of varying gravitational and kinetic forces." Holden blanched under the combined stares of the group, who had all assumed that he'd been too concerned with Catcher in the Rye to be paying them any attention. "Hey, it's a perfectly normal stage in adolescent males who are coming to terms with their developing sexuality."
Tucker scoffed and looked incredulous. "Dude, way to geek up wanting to see hot girls running." His smile grew expansive and Warren automatically rolled his eyes, knowing what was about to come. Sure enough, the list of Tucker's female conquests (that Warren had been never been able to prove was entirely imaginary) started off with "Of course, my sexuality is fully developed. As for coming to terms with it, surely that's more of a question for my many lady friends. Take, for example-"
"Summers!" Warren didn't hold much hope for his crude attempt to reset the conversation to before Holden had taken them off on this tangent, nor had he ever expected to prefer to be discussing goddamned Jonathan of all people rather than hot girls but he'd sat through Tucker's monologues far too often to be able to endure another one and still maintain his grip on sanity.
Barring an outbreak of telepathic rats, there was none of the others present were privy to Warren's internal monologue. So it was time for another round of the Being Stared at in Confusion Show, this time starring Warren Mears. "Yeah, Jono's crushing hard on her," he quickly explained.
"Summers?" Tucker sounded like he wanted to spit every time he said the name. Warren was glad that he'd finally given that habit up.
"My arch-nemesis," added Andrew solemnly.
Tucker scoffed. "Yeah, right. Like you'd ever dare your pathetic little monkey scheme if it wasn't for my success."
"Hey!" Andrew protested righteously. "At least my demons actually did the job they were summoned to do." Warren's attention drifted as the sibling rivalry took its usual course and Andrew ended up in a headlock.
"She seems okay, if a little distant." Holden sounded a little distant himself, caught between his reading, the conversation and watching the scuffle in the background that the other two were ignoring.
"She's a cast-iron bitch, and you all agree. Right?" Tucker let Andrew scurry out of reach in order to glare at the others.
Warren sighed. "Sure. I hate with the fire of a thousand suns the hot girl who's never done anything to me." There was a brief pause. "What? I said what you wanted, didn't I?"
"She does seem kind of unstable," Freddy added noncommittally.
Andrew sprang to attention at that. "Then I call the first meeting of the We-Hate-Buffy-Summers Club to order!"
Tucker looked around apologetically, before dealing with his brother. "You. Out now."
"Make me." Tucker got up and dragged Andrew out by the scruff by his shirt collar, accompanied by squirms and cries of "I didn't mean it like that".
Without the distracting influence of the Wells brothers, the remaining three settled back to their work fairly quickly. The calm was almost comforting, which is why the intrusion of a large quarterback not exactly known for tolerance of lower gym-skipping species was so disconcerting.
His expression wasn't all that threatening but in a guy that size, you weren't exactly concentrating on his face. "You lot shouldn't been down here," he said pleasantly enough.
Well, not pleasantly enough for Holden. "You're right," he said quickly. "And that's why I'm just leaving." Picking up his book, he did just that.
Freddy looked at Warren nervously as the jock advanced, cutting off their escape route. "And what about you two?" he asked.
Warren's genius-level IQ finally kicked in as he recognised the intruder, and simultaneously came up with a plan to avoid his wrath. With a 'trust me' glance, he took Freddy's hand and then looked up shyly at Larry from where they sat. "I'm sorry," he said softly, "but we don't really get much time to be together. What with my parents, and the other kids…" Freddy thankfully had cottoned on by this point, or at least was too embarrassed by the whole proceedings to look Larry in the face which worked just as well. "You won't tell anyone, will you?" he added.
Bingo! Larry kneeled to approximately their level, with a paternal look on his face. "Hey, don't worry guys. You can trust me, and if you ever want to talk I've been where you are. Trust me, things aren't as bad as they seem." With that, he left them to it.
Once they were alone, they separated but not so much. "Nice work," Freddy said, as near to impressed as he'd ever been.
Warren shrugged. "I spotted his coming-out notice in the paper. Figured he'd be a soft touch for that sob story."
"You actually read the paper?" Freddy smiled at Warren. "You know, as examples of the cretinous mass known as humanity go, you're pretty tolerable."
"Thanks. You too." The silence grew between them quite comfortably until Warren turned to look speculatively at Freddy and said, "You know, what we told Larry doesn't have to be a total lie…"
Freddy stared at Warren, as if deeply lost in thought. Then he slid away from the other boy. "Yes. Yes it does."
The silence from that point was considerably less comfortable. Freddy worked on his articles, and Warren on his diagram. The fact that the people caught in its awesome power all seemed to bear quite the resemblance to the school newspaper editor was nothing less than coincidental.
Author: Vanilla Tiger
Recipient: bitterbyrden
Request: Warren paired with a really random secondary character, romantically or not. Set in high school
gym class (or lack thereof), mention of centrifugal force. Larry. Percy. Holden. Tucker. Freddie. Jesse (*** for that). Swim team. Etc.
Rating: PG
Setting: Late season three.
AN: Sorry it's so late.
It was another glorious summer day in California, the type to make parents everywhere to tell the kids to stop bugging them and get the hell outside and play. However, as it was a school day this was unlikely. The teachers, expected to act vaguely in loco parentis, did their best to echo this behaviour by forcing their charges outside for the one form of enforced physical labour not banned by law - gym class.
Of course, not every student at Sunnydale High was going to put up with this. There were the rebels, the outsiders, those who simply refused to let a timetable dictate their every move, …those who simply hadn't got their required reading done in time. An assorted group of these misfits had assembled in the basement where they all quietly got on with their various tasks. In fact, Warren was so absorbed with his blueprints (he was currently working on a plan to harness the kinetic energy created by a centrifugal device into some type of weapon) that it took him a second to register that anyone had spoken.
"Where's …the short one?" Freddy asked, with a vague gesture that nevertheless somehow managed to encapsulate the very essence of shortness.
"Jonathan?" was Warren's immediate reply - the only person who could somehow fit in with the ineffable shortness of that gesture.
Freddy nodded. "Doesn't he usually hang with you guys?" It was true. Warren, Tucker and Jonathan (with Andrew usually tagging along behind) made a habit of hanging out here and often saw Freddy here working on an article on the days when he was hiding in fear from the jocks after another scathing critique of the football team. Today Jonathan's place had been taken by some guy Warren vaguely remembered from his European History class. He had introduced himself as Holden Webster, and at the unwelcoming stares sat himself in a corner to catch up on his AP English.
Beside him Tucker automatically tensed at Freddy's comment. It took Warren a moment too to realise that was no actual insult, implied or otherwise, in the question. It was simply that Freddy's normally cynical mode of thinking was so engrained that it left trace amounts of sarcasm in all his speech. Warren could appreciate that, especially as a guy who indulged in over two hundred percent of his recommended daily allowance.
"Girls are running track today," he explained. Which helped explain why Escaping Physical Exertion and Associated Humiliation 101 was emptier than usual.
Freddy rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't have put him down with the rest of the hormone-addled crowd entranced by the sight of a tight white T-shirt." He paused and then continued in a more speculative manner. "Though he does have a touch of potential obsessive stalker about him, but more pathetic than threatening."
"It's not the T-shirts, more what's under them. …And the effect of varying gravitational and kinetic forces." Holden blanched under the combined stares of the group, who had all assumed that he'd been too concerned with Catcher in the Rye to be paying them any attention. "Hey, it's a perfectly normal stage in adolescent males who are coming to terms with their developing sexuality."
Tucker scoffed and looked incredulous. "Dude, way to geek up wanting to see hot girls running." His smile grew expansive and Warren automatically rolled his eyes, knowing what was about to come. Sure enough, the list of Tucker's female conquests (that Warren had been never been able to prove was entirely imaginary) started off with "Of course, my sexuality is fully developed. As for coming to terms with it, surely that's more of a question for my many lady friends. Take, for example-"
"Summers!" Warren didn't hold much hope for his crude attempt to reset the conversation to before Holden had taken them off on this tangent, nor had he ever expected to prefer to be discussing goddamned Jonathan of all people rather than hot girls but he'd sat through Tucker's monologues far too often to be able to endure another one and still maintain his grip on sanity.
Barring an outbreak of telepathic rats, there was none of the others present were privy to Warren's internal monologue. So it was time for another round of the Being Stared at in Confusion Show, this time starring Warren Mears. "Yeah, Jono's crushing hard on her," he quickly explained.
"Summers?" Tucker sounded like he wanted to spit every time he said the name. Warren was glad that he'd finally given that habit up.
"My arch-nemesis," added Andrew solemnly.
Tucker scoffed. "Yeah, right. Like you'd ever dare your pathetic little monkey scheme if it wasn't for my success."
"Hey!" Andrew protested righteously. "At least my demons actually did the job they were summoned to do." Warren's attention drifted as the sibling rivalry took its usual course and Andrew ended up in a headlock.
"She seems okay, if a little distant." Holden sounded a little distant himself, caught between his reading, the conversation and watching the scuffle in the background that the other two were ignoring.
"She's a cast-iron bitch, and you all agree. Right?" Tucker let Andrew scurry out of reach in order to glare at the others.
Warren sighed. "Sure. I hate with the fire of a thousand suns the hot girl who's never done anything to me." There was a brief pause. "What? I said what you wanted, didn't I?"
"She does seem kind of unstable," Freddy added noncommittally.
Andrew sprang to attention at that. "Then I call the first meeting of the We-Hate-Buffy-Summers Club to order!"
Tucker looked around apologetically, before dealing with his brother. "You. Out now."
"Make me." Tucker got up and dragged Andrew out by the scruff by his shirt collar, accompanied by squirms and cries of "I didn't mean it like that".
Without the distracting influence of the Wells brothers, the remaining three settled back to their work fairly quickly. The calm was almost comforting, which is why the intrusion of a large quarterback not exactly known for tolerance of lower gym-skipping species was so disconcerting.
His expression wasn't all that threatening but in a guy that size, you weren't exactly concentrating on his face. "You lot shouldn't been down here," he said pleasantly enough.
Well, not pleasantly enough for Holden. "You're right," he said quickly. "And that's why I'm just leaving." Picking up his book, he did just that.
Freddy looked at Warren nervously as the jock advanced, cutting off their escape route. "And what about you two?" he asked.
Warren's genius-level IQ finally kicked in as he recognised the intruder, and simultaneously came up with a plan to avoid his wrath. With a 'trust me' glance, he took Freddy's hand and then looked up shyly at Larry from where they sat. "I'm sorry," he said softly, "but we don't really get much time to be together. What with my parents, and the other kids…" Freddy thankfully had cottoned on by this point, or at least was too embarrassed by the whole proceedings to look Larry in the face which worked just as well. "You won't tell anyone, will you?" he added.
Bingo! Larry kneeled to approximately their level, with a paternal look on his face. "Hey, don't worry guys. You can trust me, and if you ever want to talk I've been where you are. Trust me, things aren't as bad as they seem." With that, he left them to it.
Once they were alone, they separated but not so much. "Nice work," Freddy said, as near to impressed as he'd ever been.
Warren shrugged. "I spotted his coming-out notice in the paper. Figured he'd be a soft touch for that sob story."
"You actually read the paper?" Freddy smiled at Warren. "You know, as examples of the cretinous mass known as humanity go, you're pretty tolerable."
"Thanks. You too." The silence grew between them quite comfortably until Warren turned to look speculatively at Freddy and said, "You know, what we told Larry doesn't have to be a total lie…"
Freddy stared at Warren, as if deeply lost in thought. Then he slid away from the other boy. "Yes. Yes it does."
The silence from that point was considerably less comfortable. Freddy worked on his articles, and Warren on his diagram. The fact that the people caught in its awesome power all seemed to bear quite the resemblance to the school newspaper editor was nothing less than coincidental.