Tube Your Dude
Title: Tube Your Dude
Words: 572
Fandom: Gym Class Heroes (Travis and Matt)
A/N: Written for hs_bingo square class - sex education/ health. There was going to be a porny bit to this, but I chickened out.
Matt gets them kicked out for giggling, because once he starts Travis can't really help it, and Travis is way less discrete than Matt even on a good day. Soon enough Coach Gamboa's escorting them to the locker room office and telling them they can just stay there until they learn to be mature about the wonderful world of puberty.
"Shit's bullshit," Travis grins, kicking his feet up on Coach Gamboa's desk as he kicks back in his chair. "Fuckin' showing that old-ass video two years too late for most of those dudes."
"Yeah, well," Matt snorts, balling up his fourth post-it note and shooting toward the basketball hoop stuck over the garbage can. "Not everyone can fail gym two times over, dude."
"Screw you, man, see if I'ma give you a ride to the show tomorrow."
“Fine, see if I save your place in line next time you gotta piss because you decide we had to get there three hours early.”
“It was a good call getting there early though, wasn’t it?” Travis sits up, leaning over the desk and swatting at Matt's next shot. "We were still like, fifteenth in line, and we got to meet the openers, remember?"
"Yeah, and they invited us to the after-party, and we got wasted and I didn't get home until the next morning and my mom nearly skinned me?" Matt lobs his last crumpled post-it at Travis' head. "Yeah, that was awesome. Great call."
"Hater. Hey, you think Gamboa keeps anything interesting in here?"
“Like what?” Matt wanders over to the bookcase on the far wall. “Dude, Coach got his degree from Miami University-in Ohio.”
“There’s a Miami in Ohio?” Travis asks, tugging open drawers on the desk. “Interesting like, you know, confiscated stuff. Files. People’s middle names, I don’t know-“
“Condoms?”
“Say what?” Travis jumps to his feet as Matt pulls a boxy bookend off the shelf, peering inside it.
“Look, dude, there’s a ton,” Matt reaches inside and pulls out a handful of generic red and black squares, letting them drop through his fingers again. “Dude, they’re school colors.”
“Sick.”
“Nah, they’re probably for the health class stuff, whatever,” Matt flips one over between his fingers. “Wonder why he left’em here.”
Travis snorts. “Pfft. They’re probably not allowed to give’em to us, they got the abstinence thing going on. Whatever though, works for us.”
“What?”
Travis laughs out loud at the way Matt’s ears turn pink almost instantly. “Chill, dude. Works for me at least. You never have, have you?“
“Never what?”
“Never had to buy condoms, have you?” Travis’ face breaks into a huge, patronizing smile as Matt’s entire face goes red. “Aww, is my little Mattsky-wattsky a virrr-gin?”
“Shut up,” Matt grumbles, shoving the bookend back into place and hunching his shoulders as Travis pulls him into a bear hug, half-dancing, half-dragging him around the desk.
“No worries, little one, someday soon you too, will discover the majesty of- sexual-“
“Ahem.”
Travis freezes mid-step, still holding tight onto Matt. Together, they slowly waddle around to face Coach Gamboa, who’s staring at them with a critical eye.
“Boys,” he says slowly.
“...coach?” Matt grins, as Travis works on untangling their arms. “So...detention?”
“Detention,” Coach Gamboa nods. “I’m not sure for what yet, but yeah.”
“Yeah,” Travis salutes as Matt all but drags him out the office door. “When you figure it out though, man, it’s gonna be a doozy and-“
Words: 572
Fandom: Gym Class Heroes (Travis and Matt)
A/N: Written for hs_bingo square class - sex education/ health. There was going to be a porny bit to this, but I chickened out.
Matt gets them kicked out for giggling, because once he starts Travis can't really help it, and Travis is way less discrete than Matt even on a good day. Soon enough Coach Gamboa's escorting them to the locker room office and telling them they can just stay there until they learn to be mature about the wonderful world of puberty.
"Shit's bullshit," Travis grins, kicking his feet up on Coach Gamboa's desk as he kicks back in his chair. "Fuckin' showing that old-ass video two years too late for most of those dudes."
"Yeah, well," Matt snorts, balling up his fourth post-it note and shooting toward the basketball hoop stuck over the garbage can. "Not everyone can fail gym two times over, dude."
"Screw you, man, see if I'ma give you a ride to the show tomorrow."
“Fine, see if I save your place in line next time you gotta piss because you decide we had to get there three hours early.”
“It was a good call getting there early though, wasn’t it?” Travis sits up, leaning over the desk and swatting at Matt's next shot. "We were still like, fifteenth in line, and we got to meet the openers, remember?"
"Yeah, and they invited us to the after-party, and we got wasted and I didn't get home until the next morning and my mom nearly skinned me?" Matt lobs his last crumpled post-it at Travis' head. "Yeah, that was awesome. Great call."
"Hater. Hey, you think Gamboa keeps anything interesting in here?"
“Like what?” Matt wanders over to the bookcase on the far wall. “Dude, Coach got his degree from Miami University-in Ohio.”
“There’s a Miami in Ohio?” Travis asks, tugging open drawers on the desk. “Interesting like, you know, confiscated stuff. Files. People’s middle names, I don’t know-“
“Condoms?”
“Say what?” Travis jumps to his feet as Matt pulls a boxy bookend off the shelf, peering inside it.
“Look, dude, there’s a ton,” Matt reaches inside and pulls out a handful of generic red and black squares, letting them drop through his fingers again. “Dude, they’re school colors.”
“Sick.”
“Nah, they’re probably for the health class stuff, whatever,” Matt flips one over between his fingers. “Wonder why he left’em here.”
Travis snorts. “Pfft. They’re probably not allowed to give’em to us, they got the abstinence thing going on. Whatever though, works for us.”
“What?”
Travis laughs out loud at the way Matt’s ears turn pink almost instantly. “Chill, dude. Works for me at least. You never have, have you?“
“Never what?”
“Never had to buy condoms, have you?” Travis’ face breaks into a huge, patronizing smile as Matt’s entire face goes red. “Aww, is my little Mattsky-wattsky a virrr-gin?”
“Shut up,” Matt grumbles, shoving the bookend back into place and hunching his shoulders as Travis pulls him into a bear hug, half-dancing, half-dragging him around the desk.
“No worries, little one, someday soon you too, will discover the majesty of- sexual-“
“Ahem.”
Travis freezes mid-step, still holding tight onto Matt. Together, they slowly waddle around to face Coach Gamboa, who’s staring at them with a critical eye.
“Boys,” he says slowly.
“...coach?” Matt grins, as Travis works on untangling their arms. “So...detention?”
“Detention,” Coach Gamboa nods. “I’m not sure for what yet, but yeah.”
“Yeah,” Travis salutes as Matt all but drags him out the office door. “When you figure it out though, man, it’s gonna be a doozy and-“