fic: Royal Request (Johnny/Stephane, High School AU)
title: Royal Request
author: tsu_chan55
rating: PG13
pairing: Johnny/Stephane
Other notes: Adam Lambert appearance. These events did not happen (alas). Unbetaed. Based off of the high school au prompt for the drabblethon! This is a drabble that got away. Hope you enjoy it!
When you live in what could possibly be the smallest town in North America (or even one that just felt like the smallest town in North America), any news is big news. And when you take big news and add it to the local high school, it becomes enough gossip to possibly fuel three months of talk when the even is actually over; certainly enough gossip to render algebra and grammar irrelevant.
Johnny heard the big news three time before five minutes had passed in homeroom, once from each side, and then once from behind. He was mulling the idea over a long time before Mrs Kingston sighed and stood up from behind her desk to move towards the middle of the front of the class. "As I'm sure you've all heard by now," she starts, shooting a look at the group of gossiping cheerleaders crowded in the corner of the room, "we will be having a new student tomorrow, staying for the unforeseeable future. I expect you to make him feel welcome as he's coming a long way, and the last thing you should be doing, Britney, is talking about him right now when I happen to know that you're too far behind on your english homework to even look at boys, let alone think about them."
The class laughs, and Britney just giggles along. She's a nice girl, if a bit vapid, and they all understand that when a teacher and a class have known you from gradeschool, all information is privy to general knowledge.
Mrs Kingston stops talking about the big news to address a few members of the football team who come strolling in late as is their percieved right, and Adam turns around to arch his eyebrows at Johnny. He's wearing sequinned sunglasses today, so the expression is both impressive and fabulously diva-ish.
Johnny just puts on an unimpressed look. "What?"
Adam shrugs. "Just wondering what you think of the big news." He stresses the words like Johnny gives a shit, and Johnny just rolls his eyes.
"I couldn't care less," Johnny replies, and arches his eyebrows right back, shooting Adam a bitchy look. He's got more important things to be worrying about now than some new student who will probably fall for a cheerleader and good riddance to him. He needs to find a better part time job because working at the pizza place is hell on his hands, and nobody can pull off a hairnet, however much they try and decorate it with sparkly clips to keep it on.
Adam smirks. "You're falling behind in the rumour mill, Johnny boy."
"Bitch," Johnny says half heartedly. He hates being called that. Adam knows he hates being called that. It's exactly why he does it.
Adam simply grins at him, before turning back around so that Mrs Kingston can finish calling rolecall, and Johnny ducks his head and starts doodling swans on his homework agenda.
---
Johnny has actually forgotten about the new student by the time he walks into homeroom the next morning- at least, until he looks up, and there's a boy standing in the front of the class, talking to Mrs Kingston.
He's waving his hands around enthusiastically, and Johnny doesn't think he's ever seen his teacher smile so hard in all the years they've known each other, but he can't really focus on that because the boy has dark brown hair and darker eyes, with cheekbones Johnny is really fascinated by, and Johnny stops in his tracks in the middle of the doorway. He's gotten used to the concept that aside from himself (of course), and sometimes Adam, pretty is not an adjective for boys in his high school. There is the occasional cute, and rarely on the odd occasion there's a heartbreakingly handsome, but for the most part its sweaty and butch and gross.
The new boy is pretty.
"Oh," says Johnny, and stumbles headlong into a desk. He immediately turns to glare at Adam, who is gazing back unrepentantly.
"You're blocking the way, princess," Adam tells him, and moves to push past him. Johnny makes an outraged noise and gives Adam such a bitchy glare that he's almost surprised the other boy's black nail polish doesn't melt off, and then he turns around again, just a little, just to look again.
The new boy is watching him now, Mrs Kingston sitting back at her desk going over some papers, and the New Boy's mouth is curving up, just a little, just enough to be obvious to Johnny, who feels his chest thud a little harder, an alarming sensation. It seems impossible to look away until Britney, who seems to come out of nowhere with a mix between ninja skills and cheerleading talent to snag the best looking boy in the room (barring himself), latches onto the new boy's arm and- oh.
Oh.
He's probably straight.
Johnny flips his head, andflounces to his seat , scowling down at his desk and refusing to look up, even when Adam pokes at his shoulder with his ruler. When this fails to get Johnny's attention, Adam huffs out an annoyed breath and turns around again, but Johnny is starting to remember why he was glad there were no other pretty boys in the school, and he blames the New Boy for changing the rules.
Mrs Kingston makes New Boy introduce himself to the class when everyone's in their seats, and his name is Stephane and he waves his hands while he's describing his hometown in Switzerland, he talks with an accent, and Johnny really really doesn't like the way he feels when Stephane makes eye contact with him again.
He likes it even less when New Boy looks away, and Adam turns around to smirk at Johnny, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arched. "Well," he says, sounding impressed.
Johnny gives him the finger and tries to block his ears without pulling off a childish move, but it's harder than he'd like, and he's forced to listen until the bell rings for first class.
---
Johnny spends the rest of the week trying to avoid Stephane, simply because someone that good looking has to be hazardous to your health- mainly, especially, his own, because obviously that is what he's most concerned about. Adam likes the new boy too, but whenever Johnny mentions it, in a snide tone he's perfected, the other boy just shrugs. "Not my style," he says, which could very well be true, but Johnny shoots him suspicious looks and tries not to notice when Adam sidles up to Stephane for a conversation.
Typically enough, it's when Johnny is most relaxed when he happens to bump into the New Boy again. He's late for art class, the one class he actually sort of enjoys because he's allowed to sketch out designs for fabulous outfits he'd like to wear someday, and he's running down the halls. He's shooting another look at his watch when he runs into something solid.
"Ah," he says, feeling himself bounce back, and is preparing himself to land on his ass on the floor, when a hand grabs his arm, holding on until he hastily readjusts his balance, and then lingering until Johnny stares down at the fingers curled around his elbow. "Hey," he says, and looks up, feeling that confounded confusing thud in his chest when he sees the dark eyes staring at him again.
"Careful," Stephane- New Boy says.
Johnny pulls his arm away. "I know you wanted to touch me, but standing in my way is hardly the best course."
New Boy looks briefly confused, and then amused. "You run into me," he points out, and Johnny really really hates his accent.
"What is that you talk?" he asks, annoyed, and then waves a hand airily, faking disinterest except not because he actually wants to know. "Nevermind. I need to get to class."
"Oh. Can you tell me where art room is?"
Johnny sighs, as if it's the hardest thing in the world he's ever been asked. "Come on then," he tells the New Boy, and starts off without even waiting to see if Stephane is following him. He doesn't hear the other boy behind him, but he can almost feel the dark eyes burning holes into his back, and it makes his shoulders tense.
The art room is a familiar sanctuary, and Johnny pulls his big sketchbook out of his bag, settling down to design the idea he'd had earlier this morning, slowly forgetting to be careful of his posture until his nose is almost pressing against the page. He only looks up when the chair across the table scrapes across the floor, and he blinks, startled.
New Boy grins back at him. "Thank you for showing me here."
"You're welcome," Johnny says automatically, because his mother raised him right. "Why... are you sitting there?"
New Boy looks briefly wounded, his brows hitching momentarily. "You do not want to sit with me?"
Decidedly not.
Johnny opens his mouth to tell him this, but finds words that he does not mean to say in the slightest coming out instead. "No, no, I don't mind. Go ahead."
He's busy berating himself for this lapse of judgment that will no doubt have dire consequences when New Boy grins at him, and the expression is reward enough. "What is that?" New Boy asks, pointing, and Johnny looks down at his sketch pad.
"It's a jacket," he says, because it is clear to him, even though the scribbles on the page look a little more like doodles. He's trying to figure out the embroidery pattern and where the sequins will go, and it looks like a mess- but it won't when he's perfected the idea, and he appreciates all the stages of the design.
New Boy nods as if it is clear to him too, and Johnny feels his mouth start to smile wholly on it's own agenda. "I see. It is for you?"
"Of course," Johnny says simply, and New Boy nods again.
"I will try for you too," he says, and Johnny blinks at him, head tilting in confusion as Stephane drops his own sketchpad on the table. Johnny has no shame in trying to spy on the New Boy's work, and the glimpses he sees as Stephane flicks through pages to find an empty one are quite enough to make him wish he could ask to see the whole sketchbook, but they're not that close.
Still, his fingers itch, especially at a bright pink suit that looks fabulous on paper and-
"You design clothes?" Johnny blurts out, shocked. He hadn't pictured it for the new boy- hadn't even considered it, and the fact shames him a little, because he's always being judged on what he looks like, and the fact that he did it to New Boy- Stephane, is more than a little horrifying.
"I try," Stephane replies, obviously amused by the question as he finally finds an empty page and picks up an orange pencil crayon from the box on the table. "Do you like zebras?"
Johnny stares. The question is so unexpected, that he's breathing out a half laugh before he can even register amusement, and then he just laughs in earnest, his grin bright and so wide it almost hurts his cheeks. "I misjudged you," he tells Stephane, because he also isn't one to hide behind his own shame. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Stephane replies, busy with his sketch, but his eyes flick up to Johnny's and Johnny's chest thuds hard again for a minute at the eye contact, because there is something in the other boy's eyes that makes him want to squirm and look away, but he doesn't- and neither does Stephane, until he drops his eyes to pick up a blue pencil crayon instead.
Johnny takes a deep breath and looks down at his own page again. Somehow, the embroidery pattern is wrong, there's a million more ideas he wants to do- and he grabs a yellow pencil crayon to start working instead of contemplating what the thudding pressure behind his ribs could mean.
---
Two weeks later, Johnny is watching, amazed, as Stephane carefully sketches in leopard rosettes onto a pair of slim leggings with some kind of fin of material running down the side of the left leg. Stephane is pretty enthusiastic about animal prints for a straight boy, and not for the first time, Johnny wonders if his suspicions are false.
But his radar's almost never off, and what's more, Adam actually agrees with him, although whether this is because Adam is being honest or just wanted to create optimum chaos in Johnny, is up for debate.
"At home, people love my clothes," Stephane brags, and he's got a funny way of bragging, like he's making fun of himself more than the people he's talking about. "They call me prince."
"They call me princess," Johnny retorts snidely, then waves a pencil at one of the frilly bits. "What's that for?"
"For your dress, highness," Stephane gives him a wide eyed look of innocence, but Johnny knows him mostly well enough by now to tell that there's flecks of mischief dancing in the dark eyes, like golden fireflies in a- Christ, he's turning into a poet. Johnny blames the point on the fact that he's a horny seventeen year old, and aside from Adam, who- which, just gross, the pickings in this town that he'd actually want to do anything with, let alone who'd want to do anything with him are very slim.
Adam, who can be such a bitch, says he knows what the real problem is, but Johnny always changes the subject to Adam's clothes or his hair (blue streaks? Gorgeous.) or something that makes Adam preen and smirk and forget what he was trying to tell Johnny.
So it's really no surprise he likes Stephane. The New Boy is becoming a very good friend, even though sometimes he still looks too long at Johnny, and Johnny can never make himself look away.
"I'm not wearing those. They're hideous, and so gauche," Johnny mocks, and Stephane looks a little sad.
"Why do you not love my clothes?"
Johnny simply puts on his unimpressed look. Stephane holds his sad face a little longer, but he can't resist long, and eventually breaks into a small laugh. "If I make it fur?"
Johnny grins, and simply shakes his head. "Fur leggings with a skirt... I don't think so."
Johnny's ideas are more palatable, a little outrageous, but still actually wearable. Stephane's are just outrageous, wacky fun. For a moment, Johnny wonders what it's like to be in Stephane's head when he's thinking up ideas, but it's hard enough being in his own sometimes, and he doesn't really want to know. It would take away the mystery of the other boy a little, and Johnny's always loved a good mystery.
Except when it comes attached with good looking pretty boys who have a sense of humour and don't take themselves seriously and-
Shit.
Maybe Adam's right. Maybe he should let the other boy finish the topic next time he tries to bring it up.
---
"You're embarrassing me," Adam tells him, sitting on the benches and picking at his nails. His polish isn't anywhere near flaking, but Adam's got this disgusted look on his face like he knows that its about to start. "You're so obvious, it's actually a little sickening."
"Thanks for your support," Johnny snaps back, and pulls his legs up, hugging them to his chest. They'd both purposely left their gym clothes behind today because- horror of horror's, gym class is going through a football unit. They can't pull the trick every lesson, unfortunately, but on days like today, when the rumours had been going around the school about a full mock game of flag football, full contact...
Johnny gives a delicate shudder and hugs his legs tighter. "Besides, I don't know what you're talking about."
He does.
He really does. He'd actually snuck into the locker room to look for Mr O'Donnell to tell him about the clothes, and he'd caught himself staring at Stephane who- well, he wasn't overly muscled, which is a good thing because Johnny has never liked muscles too big, but- Shit, he's so done for. He'd at least hoped that Adam would give him a break, but that's apparently too much to ask.
"I think you do," the other boy continues in such a snotty tone, that Johnny actually blinks, then throws Adam a glare. "I think you know exactly," Adam continues, sounding smug now. "And you're not fooling anyone but yourself if you think nobody else notices it."
"I haven't been beaten up since tenth grade," Johnny reminds him.
This is true. It's also around the same time that most of the jocks in the school learned that he had a vicious tongue and could start reputation rumours with just a few well chosen ruthless words- and they'd started leaving him alone, for the most part.
"I'm talking about the girls," Adam replies, arching his eyebrow and dropping his eyes back to his nails. "They're a little pissed because he's pretty obvious too."
"They have no reason- what? He's- he's not obvious about anything at all," Johnny protests, but his own body's reactions to the news let him know that maybe- he really actually wants to believe Adam on this one. "You think he-?"
Adam gives him a look thats an impressive mixture between exasperation, affection, and the ever popular how are you so stupid? "Johnny, he designs you animal print fur leggings. What more clues did you want?"
"I don't know, like maybe a- a- and besides, that doesn't mean anything! He draws strange stuff like that all the time!"
"And does he go around showing and telling all the girls that none of them could pull off the look like you can?"
Johnny is horrified by the sudden heat in his cheeks, just like he is appalled by the wide smile that wants to break free on his face and he ducks his head, pressing his forehead to his knees. "That's- that doesn't mean anything."
"Think again," Adam murmurs, and Johnny can feel him shift, straighten up a little, making Johnny look up to see what's caught his attention.
Stephane is standing towards the end of the field, waving madly at the two of them, his grin so beaming that Johnny can actually see it all the way from where they're sitting. He's got a speck of white in his hand, and Johnny shoots Adam a confused look even as Stephane calls out to them. "Johnny! I have found feather for you! We'll make a jacket for the pants!"
Johnny gapes for a moment. He's sure it's not an attractive look, and Adam sniggers beside him to prove it, but the whole situation is just so bizarre that Johnny is sure he can forgive himself for such a reaction later- a lot later. Because now the ball is heading back towards Stephane and he has to concentrate on the game again, and Adam clears his throat next to Johnny, the sound loud and deliberate. "If that's not a declaration of love in front of the entire class, I don't know what is."
"Oh hell," Johnny mutters, trying to feel terrible about the whole affair, but his own body betrays him again, and he can't even repress the smile this time.
---
"Feathers," Johnny repeats dully, staring across the art table at Stephane. "You're a little crazy, you know that?"
Stephane shrugs carelessly. He's using the pink pencil crayon, and Johnny is a dying a little of curiousity inside to find out what exactly Stephane's thinking that's going to be pink and featherish. He tells himself firmly that he doesn't care, and then starts on his new design, a sketched shirt to match the pants he'd finished last class. There are no frills on the pants, but there are lots of sequins, and he's thinking maybe a few frills on the neckline of the shirt would be a nice touch- in the same shiny dark blue as the sequins.
He's been drawing for maybe about ten minutes, trying to figure out what shape would best suit the neckline, when he's suddenly all too aware that Stephane has stopped drawing and is looking at him, no doubt one of his unbreakable eye contact attempts.
"What?" Johnny asks bitchily, but doesn't look up. He's a little tired of Stephane not giving him something solid to work with. He hates being in a constant state of uncertainty, he hasn't felt like this for so long since the fourth grade when he was trying to figure out why he liked their male substitute teacher so much more than their regular female one.
"Are you going to look at me?" Stephane asks, sounding amused, and Johnny lifts his head, eyes narrowed.
He doesn't like the tone, even though it makes his heart thud harder against his ribs- maybe especially because it has that effect on him. Stephane sounds like he's full of secrets, and maybe Johnny doesn't want any more of those. "Are you going to tell me what that is?" he retorts, not even trying to sound friendly.
Stephane blinks, looking a little surprised, and then looks down, tilting his head consideringly before pushing it across the table towards Johnny. Johnny makes himself hold Stephane's gaze for a moment longer, then drops his eyes and-
Huh.
Instead of a design for a jacket to go with the pants, there's a note written on the page in bright pink, the hand writing loopy and pretty extravagant. It's asking him what he's doing on friday night, and-
Johnny swallows, brow hitching as he shoots Stephane a bitchy look. "Who's this for?"
Stephane can also pull off a how stupid are you? look, Johnny discovers, and his heart is thumping so hard he can almost taste his pulse at the back of his throat, and he barely registers the touch of Stephane's fingertips on the back of his hand until he looks down again, reading the note again.
"Who do you think?" Stephane says quietly, sounding vaguely irritated and frustrated and amused. "I have only been trying to get your attention since you walked into that desk."
"I'm too graceful to walk into a desk on purpose."
"It looked like you wanted my attention too," Stephane says sadly, and slides his hand to the side to start pulling back his sketchbook. "I am sorry for the presumption."
Johnny's expression twitches as he swallows, hard, and slams his hand down on the sketchbook. He likes to know where he stands, that he wants the same thing out of a situation. "So... what, this is a date?"
"Of course," Stephane replies, and tilts his head, smiling when Johnny smiles at him. "That's nice. I like your smile."
Johnny bites his lip to hold back the laugh, rolling his eyes instead and sighing through his nose, a long suffering sigh. "Well... yeah," he tells Stephane in a well duh tone, shooting the other boy a brief bitchy look before grinning again, ducking his head to read the note again. It's a little ridiculous.
They're a little ridiculous.
But somehow, he's pretty sure they're going to fit just right.
The Prince royally requests the Princess' company to the ball, with maybe a movie included. Please RSVP.
author: tsu_chan55
rating: PG13
pairing: Johnny/Stephane
Other notes: Adam Lambert appearance. These events did not happen (alas). Unbetaed. Based off of the high school au prompt for the drabblethon! This is a drabble that got away. Hope you enjoy it!
When you live in what could possibly be the smallest town in North America (or even one that just felt like the smallest town in North America), any news is big news. And when you take big news and add it to the local high school, it becomes enough gossip to possibly fuel three months of talk when the even is actually over; certainly enough gossip to render algebra and grammar irrelevant.
Johnny heard the big news three time before five minutes had passed in homeroom, once from each side, and then once from behind. He was mulling the idea over a long time before Mrs Kingston sighed and stood up from behind her desk to move towards the middle of the front of the class. "As I'm sure you've all heard by now," she starts, shooting a look at the group of gossiping cheerleaders crowded in the corner of the room, "we will be having a new student tomorrow, staying for the unforeseeable future. I expect you to make him feel welcome as he's coming a long way, and the last thing you should be doing, Britney, is talking about him right now when I happen to know that you're too far behind on your english homework to even look at boys, let alone think about them."
The class laughs, and Britney just giggles along. She's a nice girl, if a bit vapid, and they all understand that when a teacher and a class have known you from gradeschool, all information is privy to general knowledge.
Mrs Kingston stops talking about the big news to address a few members of the football team who come strolling in late as is their percieved right, and Adam turns around to arch his eyebrows at Johnny. He's wearing sequinned sunglasses today, so the expression is both impressive and fabulously diva-ish.
Johnny just puts on an unimpressed look. "What?"
Adam shrugs. "Just wondering what you think of the big news." He stresses the words like Johnny gives a shit, and Johnny just rolls his eyes.
"I couldn't care less," Johnny replies, and arches his eyebrows right back, shooting Adam a bitchy look. He's got more important things to be worrying about now than some new student who will probably fall for a cheerleader and good riddance to him. He needs to find a better part time job because working at the pizza place is hell on his hands, and nobody can pull off a hairnet, however much they try and decorate it with sparkly clips to keep it on.
Adam smirks. "You're falling behind in the rumour mill, Johnny boy."
"Bitch," Johnny says half heartedly. He hates being called that. Adam knows he hates being called that. It's exactly why he does it.
Adam simply grins at him, before turning back around so that Mrs Kingston can finish calling rolecall, and Johnny ducks his head and starts doodling swans on his homework agenda.
---
Johnny has actually forgotten about the new student by the time he walks into homeroom the next morning- at least, until he looks up, and there's a boy standing in the front of the class, talking to Mrs Kingston.
He's waving his hands around enthusiastically, and Johnny doesn't think he's ever seen his teacher smile so hard in all the years they've known each other, but he can't really focus on that because the boy has dark brown hair and darker eyes, with cheekbones Johnny is really fascinated by, and Johnny stops in his tracks in the middle of the doorway. He's gotten used to the concept that aside from himself (of course), and sometimes Adam, pretty is not an adjective for boys in his high school. There is the occasional cute, and rarely on the odd occasion there's a heartbreakingly handsome, but for the most part its sweaty and butch and gross.
The new boy is pretty.
"Oh," says Johnny, and stumbles headlong into a desk. He immediately turns to glare at Adam, who is gazing back unrepentantly.
"You're blocking the way, princess," Adam tells him, and moves to push past him. Johnny makes an outraged noise and gives Adam such a bitchy glare that he's almost surprised the other boy's black nail polish doesn't melt off, and then he turns around again, just a little, just to look again.
The new boy is watching him now, Mrs Kingston sitting back at her desk going over some papers, and the New Boy's mouth is curving up, just a little, just enough to be obvious to Johnny, who feels his chest thud a little harder, an alarming sensation. It seems impossible to look away until Britney, who seems to come out of nowhere with a mix between ninja skills and cheerleading talent to snag the best looking boy in the room (barring himself), latches onto the new boy's arm and- oh.
Oh.
He's probably straight.
Johnny flips his head, andflounces to his seat , scowling down at his desk and refusing to look up, even when Adam pokes at his shoulder with his ruler. When this fails to get Johnny's attention, Adam huffs out an annoyed breath and turns around again, but Johnny is starting to remember why he was glad there were no other pretty boys in the school, and he blames the New Boy for changing the rules.
Mrs Kingston makes New Boy introduce himself to the class when everyone's in their seats, and his name is Stephane and he waves his hands while he's describing his hometown in Switzerland, he talks with an accent, and Johnny really really doesn't like the way he feels when Stephane makes eye contact with him again.
He likes it even less when New Boy looks away, and Adam turns around to smirk at Johnny, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arched. "Well," he says, sounding impressed.
Johnny gives him the finger and tries to block his ears without pulling off a childish move, but it's harder than he'd like, and he's forced to listen until the bell rings for first class.
---
Johnny spends the rest of the week trying to avoid Stephane, simply because someone that good looking has to be hazardous to your health- mainly, especially, his own, because obviously that is what he's most concerned about. Adam likes the new boy too, but whenever Johnny mentions it, in a snide tone he's perfected, the other boy just shrugs. "Not my style," he says, which could very well be true, but Johnny shoots him suspicious looks and tries not to notice when Adam sidles up to Stephane for a conversation.
Typically enough, it's when Johnny is most relaxed when he happens to bump into the New Boy again. He's late for art class, the one class he actually sort of enjoys because he's allowed to sketch out designs for fabulous outfits he'd like to wear someday, and he's running down the halls. He's shooting another look at his watch when he runs into something solid.
"Ah," he says, feeling himself bounce back, and is preparing himself to land on his ass on the floor, when a hand grabs his arm, holding on until he hastily readjusts his balance, and then lingering until Johnny stares down at the fingers curled around his elbow. "Hey," he says, and looks up, feeling that confounded confusing thud in his chest when he sees the dark eyes staring at him again.
"Careful," Stephane- New Boy says.
Johnny pulls his arm away. "I know you wanted to touch me, but standing in my way is hardly the best course."
New Boy looks briefly confused, and then amused. "You run into me," he points out, and Johnny really really hates his accent.
"What is that you talk?" he asks, annoyed, and then waves a hand airily, faking disinterest except not because he actually wants to know. "Nevermind. I need to get to class."
"Oh. Can you tell me where art room is?"
Johnny sighs, as if it's the hardest thing in the world he's ever been asked. "Come on then," he tells the New Boy, and starts off without even waiting to see if Stephane is following him. He doesn't hear the other boy behind him, but he can almost feel the dark eyes burning holes into his back, and it makes his shoulders tense.
The art room is a familiar sanctuary, and Johnny pulls his big sketchbook out of his bag, settling down to design the idea he'd had earlier this morning, slowly forgetting to be careful of his posture until his nose is almost pressing against the page. He only looks up when the chair across the table scrapes across the floor, and he blinks, startled.
New Boy grins back at him. "Thank you for showing me here."
"You're welcome," Johnny says automatically, because his mother raised him right. "Why... are you sitting there?"
New Boy looks briefly wounded, his brows hitching momentarily. "You do not want to sit with me?"
Decidedly not.
Johnny opens his mouth to tell him this, but finds words that he does not mean to say in the slightest coming out instead. "No, no, I don't mind. Go ahead."
He's busy berating himself for this lapse of judgment that will no doubt have dire consequences when New Boy grins at him, and the expression is reward enough. "What is that?" New Boy asks, pointing, and Johnny looks down at his sketch pad.
"It's a jacket," he says, because it is clear to him, even though the scribbles on the page look a little more like doodles. He's trying to figure out the embroidery pattern and where the sequins will go, and it looks like a mess- but it won't when he's perfected the idea, and he appreciates all the stages of the design.
New Boy nods as if it is clear to him too, and Johnny feels his mouth start to smile wholly on it's own agenda. "I see. It is for you?"
"Of course," Johnny says simply, and New Boy nods again.
"I will try for you too," he says, and Johnny blinks at him, head tilting in confusion as Stephane drops his own sketchpad on the table. Johnny has no shame in trying to spy on the New Boy's work, and the glimpses he sees as Stephane flicks through pages to find an empty one are quite enough to make him wish he could ask to see the whole sketchbook, but they're not that close.
Still, his fingers itch, especially at a bright pink suit that looks fabulous on paper and-
"You design clothes?" Johnny blurts out, shocked. He hadn't pictured it for the new boy- hadn't even considered it, and the fact shames him a little, because he's always being judged on what he looks like, and the fact that he did it to New Boy- Stephane, is more than a little horrifying.
"I try," Stephane replies, obviously amused by the question as he finally finds an empty page and picks up an orange pencil crayon from the box on the table. "Do you like zebras?"
Johnny stares. The question is so unexpected, that he's breathing out a half laugh before he can even register amusement, and then he just laughs in earnest, his grin bright and so wide it almost hurts his cheeks. "I misjudged you," he tells Stephane, because he also isn't one to hide behind his own shame. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Stephane replies, busy with his sketch, but his eyes flick up to Johnny's and Johnny's chest thuds hard again for a minute at the eye contact, because there is something in the other boy's eyes that makes him want to squirm and look away, but he doesn't- and neither does Stephane, until he drops his eyes to pick up a blue pencil crayon instead.
Johnny takes a deep breath and looks down at his own page again. Somehow, the embroidery pattern is wrong, there's a million more ideas he wants to do- and he grabs a yellow pencil crayon to start working instead of contemplating what the thudding pressure behind his ribs could mean.
---
Two weeks later, Johnny is watching, amazed, as Stephane carefully sketches in leopard rosettes onto a pair of slim leggings with some kind of fin of material running down the side of the left leg. Stephane is pretty enthusiastic about animal prints for a straight boy, and not for the first time, Johnny wonders if his suspicions are false.
But his radar's almost never off, and what's more, Adam actually agrees with him, although whether this is because Adam is being honest or just wanted to create optimum chaos in Johnny, is up for debate.
"At home, people love my clothes," Stephane brags, and he's got a funny way of bragging, like he's making fun of himself more than the people he's talking about. "They call me prince."
"They call me princess," Johnny retorts snidely, then waves a pencil at one of the frilly bits. "What's that for?"
"For your dress, highness," Stephane gives him a wide eyed look of innocence, but Johnny knows him mostly well enough by now to tell that there's flecks of mischief dancing in the dark eyes, like golden fireflies in a- Christ, he's turning into a poet. Johnny blames the point on the fact that he's a horny seventeen year old, and aside from Adam, who- which, just gross, the pickings in this town that he'd actually want to do anything with, let alone who'd want to do anything with him are very slim.
Adam, who can be such a bitch, says he knows what the real problem is, but Johnny always changes the subject to Adam's clothes or his hair (blue streaks? Gorgeous.) or something that makes Adam preen and smirk and forget what he was trying to tell Johnny.
So it's really no surprise he likes Stephane. The New Boy is becoming a very good friend, even though sometimes he still looks too long at Johnny, and Johnny can never make himself look away.
"I'm not wearing those. They're hideous, and so gauche," Johnny mocks, and Stephane looks a little sad.
"Why do you not love my clothes?"
Johnny simply puts on his unimpressed look. Stephane holds his sad face a little longer, but he can't resist long, and eventually breaks into a small laugh. "If I make it fur?"
Johnny grins, and simply shakes his head. "Fur leggings with a skirt... I don't think so."
Johnny's ideas are more palatable, a little outrageous, but still actually wearable. Stephane's are just outrageous, wacky fun. For a moment, Johnny wonders what it's like to be in Stephane's head when he's thinking up ideas, but it's hard enough being in his own sometimes, and he doesn't really want to know. It would take away the mystery of the other boy a little, and Johnny's always loved a good mystery.
Except when it comes attached with good looking pretty boys who have a sense of humour and don't take themselves seriously and-
Shit.
Maybe Adam's right. Maybe he should let the other boy finish the topic next time he tries to bring it up.
---
"You're embarrassing me," Adam tells him, sitting on the benches and picking at his nails. His polish isn't anywhere near flaking, but Adam's got this disgusted look on his face like he knows that its about to start. "You're so obvious, it's actually a little sickening."
"Thanks for your support," Johnny snaps back, and pulls his legs up, hugging them to his chest. They'd both purposely left their gym clothes behind today because- horror of horror's, gym class is going through a football unit. They can't pull the trick every lesson, unfortunately, but on days like today, when the rumours had been going around the school about a full mock game of flag football, full contact...
Johnny gives a delicate shudder and hugs his legs tighter. "Besides, I don't know what you're talking about."
He does.
He really does. He'd actually snuck into the locker room to look for Mr O'Donnell to tell him about the clothes, and he'd caught himself staring at Stephane who- well, he wasn't overly muscled, which is a good thing because Johnny has never liked muscles too big, but- Shit, he's so done for. He'd at least hoped that Adam would give him a break, but that's apparently too much to ask.
"I think you do," the other boy continues in such a snotty tone, that Johnny actually blinks, then throws Adam a glare. "I think you know exactly," Adam continues, sounding smug now. "And you're not fooling anyone but yourself if you think nobody else notices it."
"I haven't been beaten up since tenth grade," Johnny reminds him.
This is true. It's also around the same time that most of the jocks in the school learned that he had a vicious tongue and could start reputation rumours with just a few well chosen ruthless words- and they'd started leaving him alone, for the most part.
"I'm talking about the girls," Adam replies, arching his eyebrow and dropping his eyes back to his nails. "They're a little pissed because he's pretty obvious too."
"They have no reason- what? He's- he's not obvious about anything at all," Johnny protests, but his own body's reactions to the news let him know that maybe- he really actually wants to believe Adam on this one. "You think he-?"
Adam gives him a look thats an impressive mixture between exasperation, affection, and the ever popular how are you so stupid? "Johnny, he designs you animal print fur leggings. What more clues did you want?"
"I don't know, like maybe a- a- and besides, that doesn't mean anything! He draws strange stuff like that all the time!"
"And does he go around showing and telling all the girls that none of them could pull off the look like you can?"
Johnny is horrified by the sudden heat in his cheeks, just like he is appalled by the wide smile that wants to break free on his face and he ducks his head, pressing his forehead to his knees. "That's- that doesn't mean anything."
"Think again," Adam murmurs, and Johnny can feel him shift, straighten up a little, making Johnny look up to see what's caught his attention.
Stephane is standing towards the end of the field, waving madly at the two of them, his grin so beaming that Johnny can actually see it all the way from where they're sitting. He's got a speck of white in his hand, and Johnny shoots Adam a confused look even as Stephane calls out to them. "Johnny! I have found feather for you! We'll make a jacket for the pants!"
Johnny gapes for a moment. He's sure it's not an attractive look, and Adam sniggers beside him to prove it, but the whole situation is just so bizarre that Johnny is sure he can forgive himself for such a reaction later- a lot later. Because now the ball is heading back towards Stephane and he has to concentrate on the game again, and Adam clears his throat next to Johnny, the sound loud and deliberate. "If that's not a declaration of love in front of the entire class, I don't know what is."
"Oh hell," Johnny mutters, trying to feel terrible about the whole affair, but his own body betrays him again, and he can't even repress the smile this time.
---
"Feathers," Johnny repeats dully, staring across the art table at Stephane. "You're a little crazy, you know that?"
Stephane shrugs carelessly. He's using the pink pencil crayon, and Johnny is a dying a little of curiousity inside to find out what exactly Stephane's thinking that's going to be pink and featherish. He tells himself firmly that he doesn't care, and then starts on his new design, a sketched shirt to match the pants he'd finished last class. There are no frills on the pants, but there are lots of sequins, and he's thinking maybe a few frills on the neckline of the shirt would be a nice touch- in the same shiny dark blue as the sequins.
He's been drawing for maybe about ten minutes, trying to figure out what shape would best suit the neckline, when he's suddenly all too aware that Stephane has stopped drawing and is looking at him, no doubt one of his unbreakable eye contact attempts.
"What?" Johnny asks bitchily, but doesn't look up. He's a little tired of Stephane not giving him something solid to work with. He hates being in a constant state of uncertainty, he hasn't felt like this for so long since the fourth grade when he was trying to figure out why he liked their male substitute teacher so much more than their regular female one.
"Are you going to look at me?" Stephane asks, sounding amused, and Johnny lifts his head, eyes narrowed.
He doesn't like the tone, even though it makes his heart thud harder against his ribs- maybe especially because it has that effect on him. Stephane sounds like he's full of secrets, and maybe Johnny doesn't want any more of those. "Are you going to tell me what that is?" he retorts, not even trying to sound friendly.
Stephane blinks, looking a little surprised, and then looks down, tilting his head consideringly before pushing it across the table towards Johnny. Johnny makes himself hold Stephane's gaze for a moment longer, then drops his eyes and-
Huh.
Instead of a design for a jacket to go with the pants, there's a note written on the page in bright pink, the hand writing loopy and pretty extravagant. It's asking him what he's doing on friday night, and-
Johnny swallows, brow hitching as he shoots Stephane a bitchy look. "Who's this for?"
Stephane can also pull off a how stupid are you? look, Johnny discovers, and his heart is thumping so hard he can almost taste his pulse at the back of his throat, and he barely registers the touch of Stephane's fingertips on the back of his hand until he looks down again, reading the note again.
"Who do you think?" Stephane says quietly, sounding vaguely irritated and frustrated and amused. "I have only been trying to get your attention since you walked into that desk."
"I'm too graceful to walk into a desk on purpose."
"It looked like you wanted my attention too," Stephane says sadly, and slides his hand to the side to start pulling back his sketchbook. "I am sorry for the presumption."
Johnny's expression twitches as he swallows, hard, and slams his hand down on the sketchbook. He likes to know where he stands, that he wants the same thing out of a situation. "So... what, this is a date?"
"Of course," Stephane replies, and tilts his head, smiling when Johnny smiles at him. "That's nice. I like your smile."
Johnny bites his lip to hold back the laugh, rolling his eyes instead and sighing through his nose, a long suffering sigh. "Well... yeah," he tells Stephane in a well duh tone, shooting the other boy a brief bitchy look before grinning again, ducking his head to read the note again. It's a little ridiculous.
They're a little ridiculous.
But somehow, he's pretty sure they're going to fit just right.
The Prince royally requests the Princess' company to the ball, with maybe a movie included. Please RSVP.