Great Plains High School AU: Chapter Four
Savin frowned to himself, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He glanced at his home ec partner, Dylan. Dylan just raised an eyebrow at him, giving Savin a quizzical look. “What’s up?”
“Nothing.” Savin sighed and shook his head, gathering the ingredients they needed. “Just -- does your brother need a ride to Ryin’s funeral tonight?” Why did his voice crack like that? Why? He was just asking if Jazz needed a ride. Nothing else. Not like he was asking if Jazz were dating anyone -- as much as he wanted to know, asking Jazz’s older brother that didn’t seem right.
“Shit, is that tonight?” Dylan asked, pulling the instructions closer to him. “I told him I’d take him. Why?”
Savin felt his face heat up at that. “I just -- I know he and Ryin were close so I figured he’d go. Since I was already going...” He trailed off as he focused on the recipe, already measuring out the flour. Needed to keep his hands busy. Keep himself busy so Dylan wouldn’t suspect anything.
Dylan grinned at him. “You like my brother.”
Savin nearly dropped the measuring cup he was holding, feeling his jaw drop as he focused on Dylan entirely. “I -- that’s not -- he’s only fourteen, isn’t he? A freshman. I don’t even really know him --”
“Would you like to?” Dylan pressed, his grin never leaving his face. “Pretty sure Jazz has a thing for you, too, dude. Talks about you all the fucking time.”
His face had to have been red, now. Completely and totally red and he couldn’t do anything to get his blush to die away. “He does?” His voice cracked again, causing him to clear his throat. “And you’re -- okay with that?”
So much for not cluing Dylan in to his little crush. Dylan just laughed, shaking his head. He clapped a hand on Savin’s shoulder. “Of course I am, dude. If you want, the three of us can go to the funeral together. I can pick you up at your place -- that way you and Jazz can spend more time together.”
“I-If you’re cool with that,” Savin murmured, continuing to measure things out. He glanced over at the station next to him. “Shit!” he hissed under his breath. “Wes is already ahead of us -- c’mon, we gotta pick up the pace a bit here. Help me with measuring this stuff out.”
“You sure you want me to do that?” Dylan asked, picking up one of the measuring spoons as if it were diseased. “You and I both know I can and will burn water, dude.”
“I know, and that’s why Ms. Endlein paired you with me, but I don’t wanna lose to Wes again --”
“Class, if I may have your attention for a moment.” Savin looked up from what he was doing, though he continued to measure out the sugar while Ms. Endlein spoke. He noticed the tall kid standing next to her -- a face Savin definitely didn’t recognize.
“Damn,” Dylan breathed from beside him. “He’s hot.”
Wes must have heard Dylan, because he nodded in agreement. Savin just shook his head at them both, trying to measure out the rest of the ingredients while Ms. Endlein continued to introduce the new kid. He would fucking beat Wes this time.
Except he couldn’t mix the dough together while Ms. Endlein spoke. She kept looking directly at him, a small frown on her face. Slowly, Savin put everything down, tapping his foot impatiently. Xan, the new kid’s name was. Didn’t catch the last name. Did catch that Xan would be Wes’s new partner.
When Xan walked over to Wes’s station, Dylan nearly bounced over to them both. Snorting to himself, Savin resumed mixing. The way both Wes and Dylan were gushing about Xan’s eyes, Savin had a feeling he might actually beat Wes to a perfect finished product.
“Don’t fucking get it either, huh?” Devin muttered, snapping Savin’s delicate concentration. “What’s so fucking amazing about him, anyway?”
“Shouldn’t you be working on your assignment, Devin?” Savin asked, noticing the way Devin glared at Xan out of the corner of his eye. “And you’re just mad because you’re not Wes’s partner. Again.”
“Don’t wanna fucking work with Brendan,” Devin snorted, picking up something and dumping it into his bowl. Savin had a feeling he had measured out the wrong amount, but didn’t dare correct him. “Doesn’t know what he’s fucking doing.”
“Don’t think you know what you’re doing, either,” Savin snickered, watching Devin out of the corner of his eye. “Hey, Dylan -- I’m gonna need your help in a minute.”
Dylan looked disappointed at that, trudging over to Savin reluctantly. As Savin gave him instructions, Savin tried to gauge where Wes was in the project. Somehow his fellow senior was still ahead of him, gabbing at Xan a mile a minute while preparing their assignment. How the hell was he so damn good at this?
Savin knew he had no time to worry about that now. He watched as Dylan placed their assignment in the oven and breathed a sigh of relief. In fifteen minutes, though, when they pulled out a charred lump out, Savin could only put his head in his hands.
“You fucking misread the temperature this was supposed to bake at again, didn’t you?” he grumbled through his fingers.
“Awwwww, don’t worry about it, Savin!” Wes chirped, clapping a hand on Savin’s shoulder. “I’m sure you and Dylan will get it right next time!” Savin pulled his hands away from his face, wishing he could glare at Wes. He couldn’t, though. Not even as Wes then pulled out his assignment, revealing its perfection.
Sighing, Savin glanced at Dylan and shook his head. “You know what?” he began, smiling wryly. If you drive anything like how you bake, maybe it’s better if I pick you and Jazz up instead.”
Dylan just grinned sheepishly at that. “Sorry, dude. I promise not to fuck shit up, this time.”
Savin could only hope.
***
Jazz frowned slightly to himself, assessing his appearance in the mirror. His hair wouldn’t stay in one place -- and he couldn’t get his tie quite right, either. When he heard a knock on his door, he sighed, wiping his tears away. “Come in!” he called through the door.
Ryin’s funeral. He was getting ready for Ryin’s funeral. It had been a rough few days. He almost wished Gemma had agreed to go to the funeral. He could use the support -- but he also understood why she didn’t want to go. She didn’t know Ryin all that well.
“You ready to go, bro?” Dylan asked. “Savin’s already here.”
Jazz could see his own face turn red in the mirror. He turned away from it, staring at Dylan with wide eyes. “S-Savin’s here?” he squeaked.
Dylan just grinned at him. “Oh, I didn’t tell you? We’re all going to the funeral together. Savin offered to drive us,” he said, walking into Jazz’s room. “Want me to get Mom to help you with your tie?”
Jazz tried to will his brush away, walking over to his brother. “Y-Yeah,” he stammered. He didn’t want to leave his room. He didn’t want to see Savin. Not now. Not when his hair was a mess and he couldn’t even get his tie straight.
Though he couldn’t help sticking his head out past his door -- couldn’t help walking down the hall and towards the stairs behind Dylan, anyway.
“So you’re my son’s home ec partner?” Dad asked, his voice brimming with amusement. “Tell me the truth -- how bad at cooking is he?”
“Pretty bad,” Savin laughed. “I mean, he tries, but it’s usually better if I do all the work.”
Jazz felt his chest tighten slightly at that. He followed Dylan down the stairs, trying not to glare at his older brother. Was he -- was he jealous? He couldn’t have been jealous. But Dylan had actual classes with Savin -- something Jazz wouldn’t have with him at all, since they were in different grades.
“He gets that from his mother,” Dad said. As Jazz and Dylan walked into the living room, Dad turned to them both, grinning. “Ah, Jazz, here, let me fix your tie for you.”
“I was -- I was gonna get Mom to, Dad,” Jazz said, his face heating up again. He didn’t dare look over at Savin, though he could see the smile on Savin’s face.
“Nonsense, your mother can’t tie them right, anyway,” Dad snickered. “You don’t have to wear one if you don’t want to, either, kiddo.”
“I know,” Jazz whispered, looking away from his father as he fixed Jazz’s tie. “I just -- it doesn’t feel right to go without one.” Damnit, his eyes stung. Jazz bit his lip as he pulled away, shoving his hands in his pockets.
His best friend. They were going to the funeral of his best friend. He felt Dad pat him heavily on the shoulder. “I understand, Jazz,” he said. His father then turned to Savin, a grin spreading across his face. “I have to thank you for offering to take these two to the funeral, Savin. I’d let Dylan drive them there, but -- he’s not exactly the best driver.”
“It’s -- not a problem, Mr. Hathaway,” Savin said. Jazz could feel Savin’s eyes on him, could hear the softness in Savin’s tone. “Ryin was a good friend of mine, too.”
“Enough small talk, people!” Dylan said, grabbing both Jazz and Savin. “Let’s get a move on, shall we?”
Jazz just gave his brother an exasperated look, noticing Savin’s expression and how it mirrored his own. Those bright green eyes then turned to him, causing him to look away. His face burned again. He couldn’t figure out why his stomach felt weird whenever Savin looked at him like that. All he knew was that it did.
And that he didn’t want Savin to stop.
“Nothing.” Savin sighed and shook his head, gathering the ingredients they needed. “Just -- does your brother need a ride to Ryin’s funeral tonight?” Why did his voice crack like that? Why? He was just asking if Jazz needed a ride. Nothing else. Not like he was asking if Jazz were dating anyone -- as much as he wanted to know, asking Jazz’s older brother that didn’t seem right.
“Shit, is that tonight?” Dylan asked, pulling the instructions closer to him. “I told him I’d take him. Why?”
Savin felt his face heat up at that. “I just -- I know he and Ryin were close so I figured he’d go. Since I was already going...” He trailed off as he focused on the recipe, already measuring out the flour. Needed to keep his hands busy. Keep himself busy so Dylan wouldn’t suspect anything.
Dylan grinned at him. “You like my brother.”
Savin nearly dropped the measuring cup he was holding, feeling his jaw drop as he focused on Dylan entirely. “I -- that’s not -- he’s only fourteen, isn’t he? A freshman. I don’t even really know him --”
“Would you like to?” Dylan pressed, his grin never leaving his face. “Pretty sure Jazz has a thing for you, too, dude. Talks about you all the fucking time.”
His face had to have been red, now. Completely and totally red and he couldn’t do anything to get his blush to die away. “He does?” His voice cracked again, causing him to clear his throat. “And you’re -- okay with that?”
So much for not cluing Dylan in to his little crush. Dylan just laughed, shaking his head. He clapped a hand on Savin’s shoulder. “Of course I am, dude. If you want, the three of us can go to the funeral together. I can pick you up at your place -- that way you and Jazz can spend more time together.”
“I-If you’re cool with that,” Savin murmured, continuing to measure things out. He glanced over at the station next to him. “Shit!” he hissed under his breath. “Wes is already ahead of us -- c’mon, we gotta pick up the pace a bit here. Help me with measuring this stuff out.”
“You sure you want me to do that?” Dylan asked, picking up one of the measuring spoons as if it were diseased. “You and I both know I can and will burn water, dude.”
“I know, and that’s why Ms. Endlein paired you with me, but I don’t wanna lose to Wes again --”
“Class, if I may have your attention for a moment.” Savin looked up from what he was doing, though he continued to measure out the sugar while Ms. Endlein spoke. He noticed the tall kid standing next to her -- a face Savin definitely didn’t recognize.
“Damn,” Dylan breathed from beside him. “He’s hot.”
Wes must have heard Dylan, because he nodded in agreement. Savin just shook his head at them both, trying to measure out the rest of the ingredients while Ms. Endlein continued to introduce the new kid. He would fucking beat Wes this time.
Except he couldn’t mix the dough together while Ms. Endlein spoke. She kept looking directly at him, a small frown on her face. Slowly, Savin put everything down, tapping his foot impatiently. Xan, the new kid’s name was. Didn’t catch the last name. Did catch that Xan would be Wes’s new partner.
When Xan walked over to Wes’s station, Dylan nearly bounced over to them both. Snorting to himself, Savin resumed mixing. The way both Wes and Dylan were gushing about Xan’s eyes, Savin had a feeling he might actually beat Wes to a perfect finished product.
“Don’t fucking get it either, huh?” Devin muttered, snapping Savin’s delicate concentration. “What’s so fucking amazing about him, anyway?”
“Shouldn’t you be working on your assignment, Devin?” Savin asked, noticing the way Devin glared at Xan out of the corner of his eye. “And you’re just mad because you’re not Wes’s partner. Again.”
“Don’t wanna fucking work with Brendan,” Devin snorted, picking up something and dumping it into his bowl. Savin had a feeling he had measured out the wrong amount, but didn’t dare correct him. “Doesn’t know what he’s fucking doing.”
“Don’t think you know what you’re doing, either,” Savin snickered, watching Devin out of the corner of his eye. “Hey, Dylan -- I’m gonna need your help in a minute.”
Dylan looked disappointed at that, trudging over to Savin reluctantly. As Savin gave him instructions, Savin tried to gauge where Wes was in the project. Somehow his fellow senior was still ahead of him, gabbing at Xan a mile a minute while preparing their assignment. How the hell was he so damn good at this?
Savin knew he had no time to worry about that now. He watched as Dylan placed their assignment in the oven and breathed a sigh of relief. In fifteen minutes, though, when they pulled out a charred lump out, Savin could only put his head in his hands.
“You fucking misread the temperature this was supposed to bake at again, didn’t you?” he grumbled through his fingers.
“Awwwww, don’t worry about it, Savin!” Wes chirped, clapping a hand on Savin’s shoulder. “I’m sure you and Dylan will get it right next time!” Savin pulled his hands away from his face, wishing he could glare at Wes. He couldn’t, though. Not even as Wes then pulled out his assignment, revealing its perfection.
Sighing, Savin glanced at Dylan and shook his head. “You know what?” he began, smiling wryly. If you drive anything like how you bake, maybe it’s better if I pick you and Jazz up instead.”
Dylan just grinned sheepishly at that. “Sorry, dude. I promise not to fuck shit up, this time.”
Savin could only hope.
***
Jazz frowned slightly to himself, assessing his appearance in the mirror. His hair wouldn’t stay in one place -- and he couldn’t get his tie quite right, either. When he heard a knock on his door, he sighed, wiping his tears away. “Come in!” he called through the door.
Ryin’s funeral. He was getting ready for Ryin’s funeral. It had been a rough few days. He almost wished Gemma had agreed to go to the funeral. He could use the support -- but he also understood why she didn’t want to go. She didn’t know Ryin all that well.
“You ready to go, bro?” Dylan asked. “Savin’s already here.”
Jazz could see his own face turn red in the mirror. He turned away from it, staring at Dylan with wide eyes. “S-Savin’s here?” he squeaked.
Dylan just grinned at him. “Oh, I didn’t tell you? We’re all going to the funeral together. Savin offered to drive us,” he said, walking into Jazz’s room. “Want me to get Mom to help you with your tie?”
Jazz tried to will his brush away, walking over to his brother. “Y-Yeah,” he stammered. He didn’t want to leave his room. He didn’t want to see Savin. Not now. Not when his hair was a mess and he couldn’t even get his tie straight.
Though he couldn’t help sticking his head out past his door -- couldn’t help walking down the hall and towards the stairs behind Dylan, anyway.
“So you’re my son’s home ec partner?” Dad asked, his voice brimming with amusement. “Tell me the truth -- how bad at cooking is he?”
“Pretty bad,” Savin laughed. “I mean, he tries, but it’s usually better if I do all the work.”
Jazz felt his chest tighten slightly at that. He followed Dylan down the stairs, trying not to glare at his older brother. Was he -- was he jealous? He couldn’t have been jealous. But Dylan had actual classes with Savin -- something Jazz wouldn’t have with him at all, since they were in different grades.
“He gets that from his mother,” Dad said. As Jazz and Dylan walked into the living room, Dad turned to them both, grinning. “Ah, Jazz, here, let me fix your tie for you.”
“I was -- I was gonna get Mom to, Dad,” Jazz said, his face heating up again. He didn’t dare look over at Savin, though he could see the smile on Savin’s face.
“Nonsense, your mother can’t tie them right, anyway,” Dad snickered. “You don’t have to wear one if you don’t want to, either, kiddo.”
“I know,” Jazz whispered, looking away from his father as he fixed Jazz’s tie. “I just -- it doesn’t feel right to go without one.” Damnit, his eyes stung. Jazz bit his lip as he pulled away, shoving his hands in his pockets.
His best friend. They were going to the funeral of his best friend. He felt Dad pat him heavily on the shoulder. “I understand, Jazz,” he said. His father then turned to Savin, a grin spreading across his face. “I have to thank you for offering to take these two to the funeral, Savin. I’d let Dylan drive them there, but -- he’s not exactly the best driver.”
“It’s -- not a problem, Mr. Hathaway,” Savin said. Jazz could feel Savin’s eyes on him, could hear the softness in Savin’s tone. “Ryin was a good friend of mine, too.”
“Enough small talk, people!” Dylan said, grabbing both Jazz and Savin. “Let’s get a move on, shall we?”
Jazz just gave his brother an exasperated look, noticing Savin’s expression and how it mirrored his own. Those bright green eyes then turned to him, causing him to look away. His face burned again. He couldn’t figure out why his stomach felt weird whenever Savin looked at him like that. All he knew was that it did.
And that he didn’t want Savin to stop.