Usual disclaimers apply. Nothing explicit in this chapter, but if you're not into gay erotica, then get out of here. Same applies if you're under 18.
Take all those complicated sailor's knots and combine them with some butterflies and a hint of queasiness: that's what George's stomach felt like entering his Calculus class. Not only did he have the pressure of a test, but he'd feel bad if Marc did poorly as well. Sure, George learned and even enjoyed helping him, but he didn't want all that time to be spent on nothing. Ignoring everyone else around him, he sat down in his usual desk, took out a calculator, pencil and eraser and waited for the class to settle down. He looked around him and saw people anxiously getting ready as well. He glanced to his left and didn't see those familiar green eyes and a wave of worry washed over him. How could Marc be missing this test that they'd studied so much for? As the teacher walked in and started handing out the tests, the door opened and an apologetic Marc walked in, grabbing a test before he made his way to his seat. George didn't realize he was staring until Marc winked and wished him good luck. George couldn't reply: his mouth was locked in a half-smile, half-grimace. He nodded in return, and looked down at the test before him.
Forty-five minutes later, and George was done. He thought it was a bit TOO easy, but didn't think there was anything wrong. He checked it over, made sure the logarithmic rules he used were right, and that his formula was derived properly. There wasn't too much thinking involved and he was shocked. Maybe his boyish teacher was just getting a bit lazy? George handed the test in, said bye to his teacher and left for his locker. As he spun his combination lock, he wondered how Marc did. Getting the door open, he took a glance at the mirror inside. He thought he looked like a disaster zone: forfeiting his contacts for the day, he'd donned thick-rimmed black glasses. His jet black hair was a bit unkempt and starting to get a bit greasy. He'd have to wash and straighten it that night. He hadn't shaved that morning and some stubble was showing. Very unhappy with his appearance, he exchanged textbooks and shut the door. Grabbing his iPod, he slipped the earphones in and started listening to some Joanna Newsom as he walked down to the caf. George would wait there until Pat and Rose came to him after they finished the test too. Suddenly, he felt a slight tap on his shoulder. Taking out one earphone, he turned around.
"Yo," greeted the stone-faced boy.
"Hey. How'd you find it?" George asked Marc. He thought he looked really cute at today. He was wearing a white sweatshirt over his uniform and George noticed he'd got a haircut since the day before. He was almost tempted to reach out and feel the spiky texture of his hair.
"Easiest test so far, maybe because I had a bit of extra help this time around right?" Marc laughed, as he lightly punched George in the shoulder.
"Ow," George involuntarily let out. George had the habit of saying `ow' to most things. Even when they didn't hurt.
"Aw sorry dude, you alright?" the other boy asked, a bit of worry filling his darkened eyes.
"Haha yeah, I just say ow a lot. Don't sweat it. Argh, I'm starving!" George shouted out into the hallway.
"Yeah me too. I don't wanna wait around for my buds. Let's head out to Wendy's, my treat for your help yesterday. I KNOW I aced that test," Marc grinned, showing off his lone right dimple.
George blushed profusely. Marc wanted to take him out. Alone. And pay for him. Again. It was almost like a date, George imagined.
"Okay, let's head out. Just as long as we get there... NOW!" George screamed out as he ran down the school hallways to the parking lot.
"Not fair dude!" Marc yelled in return as he chased along. They got to Marc's BMW out of breath and ivory pale boy pulled out his keys and unlocked his door.
"Hey. You forgot something," George pounded on the window.
"Payback bitch!" Marc joked, and after letting George wait outside for a few moments, he unlocked the passenger door. "Dude, there's like niners around. The way you swore, I'm pretty sure you corrupted anyone within a twenty metre radius."
"Oh, so have I corrupted you, oh tiny one?" George asked, shoving Marc playfully.
"You can't corrupt what's already rotten," Marc lopsidedly grinned, as he turned on the ignition and pulled out of the parking space. After arguing a bit as to which way is fastest to get to the fast food place, George won and they continued along.
"You don't ALWAYS have to be right you know," Marc told him.
"Yes I do. There's a law somewhere that says so. `George's Law'. What do they teach you kids these days anyways?" George said, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Ah fuck you," Marc argued and went to punch George's shoulder, until he felt a sharp pain in his wrist. "DUDE WHAT THE FUCK? STOP BITING ME!" Marc screamed out, pulling his wrist away and back onto the wheel.
"Violation to George's law means you get bitten. Simple as that," George joked around.
"Geeze, you could have told me before. Don't bite me while I'm driving, it's dangerous," Marc scolded.
"Wait. Does this mean I get to bite you at any other time?" George countered.
"Well who said I didn't like biting?" Marc joked, as he bared his teeth.
George sprang instant wood. That comment, combined with the fact that he just had a piece of his desired boy in his mouth set him off. They entered the Wendy's parking lot and Marc found a place to park as George sat there dumbfounded. He wondered if his boner would be too obvious when they got out of the car. As the two got out, George stretched out every action for as much time as he could, trying to will his dick to go soft. It wasn't enough time though, because by the time he caught up to Marc going into the restaurant, the other boy turned around to ask what was taking so long. As he did this, he gave George a once-over and saw a slightly bigger bulge than usual in the lanky boy's pants. He looked up into those deep brown eyes, reflecting the sunlight and laughed.
"Hurry up, the wood -- I mean food's waiting for us," Marc exclaimed.
"Jackass!" George replied as he trudged into the restaurant, following the shorter boy. They stood in line, wondering what to get and George spaced off looking up at the menu. He felt a sharp pinch on his ass, as he saw a whistling Marc walk up to the counter, placing an order. George knew he had to get him back. As he pulled up beside Marc, he waited for his turn to order than asked for a double cheeseburger, large fries, large drink, large Frostee chocolate ice cream, five piece chicken nuggets and lots of honey mustard sauce. Marc just turned to him, eyes wide in shock.
"You... are going to eat all that?" he asked.
"Well. I'm not the one who's paying, am I?" he winked and Marc understood. He laughed and got out his wallet to pay for their lunches. While waiting for their food, Marc told George he'd beat his ass if he didn't finish every last crumb of the food he was paying for. "Marc, the bank of mommy and daddy is paying for this anyways I'm guessing..." George stopped mid-sentence. He knew he'd hit a sensitive spot.
"Not cool," Marc grumbled, his eyes turning so dark you almost couldn't tell what colour they were anymore. He grabbed his tray of food and headed to a table. George grabbed his heavy tray and joined the other boy, stopping to grab straws, napkins and ketchup.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I had no right. I can't believe what an idiot I am, dude I'm sorry," George kept on apologizing.
"You don't understand how painful it is, watching all my friends who have both parents living under the same roof. It's so different, having to get used to not saying `my parents' or having to feel like it's a shame my parents split up. And I just feel so useless. What if it was because of me? They say it's because they couldn't stand each other anymore, but..." he broke off, sniffling a bit to keep in the impending tears. George put a hand on his shoulder and gripped tight.
"It's not your fault. Any parent would be lucky to have a perfect child like you. You're smart, athletic, caring, popular, really attractive..." George continued.
"I'm NOT perfect though," Marc said as he shrugged the hand off his shoulder. "If I was perfect then I wouldn't..." he stopped.
"You wouldn't what?" George asked.
"Nothing. Let's finish eating, I want to be back by the time the next lunch starts. My friends are gonna be waiting for me."
"Oh, so am I not good enough for you anymore? I clean and I slave over your food," George motioned to the remnants of their meal, "and this is the thanks I get?"
"Haha, you're such a douchebag," Marc told the smiling boy.
"And don't you forget it!" George added. They cleaned up the table and George's hand bumped into Marc's. He gave it a tight squeeze and looked up into his eyes. Marc smiled, his green eyes lighting up, and then brushed it off and continued to clean.
"So psyched for graduation tomorrow!" Marc pumped his fist into the air, as they stepped outside and back into the car.
"Yeah, don't come looking like a slob though. It's one of your last chances to impress the ladies," George advised.
"When does THIS," Marc referred to himself, "ever look less than perfect? And besides, been there done that."
"Pffft yeah I'm sure. What happened this year with Tiffany? Angela?" George queried. They still had a few minutes to get back to school before the next lunch would begin. George hoped his friends would wait up for him.
"Who told you?" Marc blushed.
"You were everywhere with one of them, it was hard not to notice," George pointed out.
"It... jus didn't work out. They're good friends," Marc replied.
"Yeah. I'm so sure. Marc, have you even had a girlfriend since Andrea in grade ten?" George asked.
"Ummmm... no," they shyer boy admitted. There was a bit of an awkward tension in the car for the rest of the ride back to school. George noticed a flush of colour in Marc's face for the whole ride back.
As he parked and unlocked the doors, George pulled his face up to Marc's right ear and decided to take a risk. "Dude. You are so gay," he whispered.
"Get the fuck out of my car ass!" Marc yelled as he shoved George backwards. He slammed his car door shut as George got out of his side.
"What the hell was that all about?" George yelled.
"You keep on saying all this shit. No wonder you're friends with all the losers, no-one else likes you," he spat out.
"You're such a fucking little spoiled brat, don't go crying over mama and papa now!" George yelled over his shoulder as he walked away from the red-faced boy. Suddenly, he felt his knees buckle beneath him and he was thrown onto the ground face first. He stopped himself from slamming onto the floor by pushing out his hands. Then he felt his attacker turn him around and as he aimed a fist for his stomach, he kicked his feet out from under him. He got up and pinned Marc to the floor.
"What do you think you're doing?" George asked. He was flipped around and suddenly Marc was on top of him.
"Oh, you like this you fucking fag," Marc hissed out through his teeth. He was breathing heavily onto George's face and pushed his hips into George's crotch. People were starting to gather and Marc noticed and stopped the gyrating then wound his fist up, ready to punch George when he was tackled sideways, off of the other boy.
"George! Are you okay? What happened?" George heard all around him as a group of people surrounded him. Pat had shoved Marc off and now they were yelling at each other. Jeff had come in and was restraining his best friend from fighting. Vanessa, Vanna, Rose and a gaggle of other girls were gathered asking George how he was.
"Yeah whatever. Me and Marc had a bit of a fight, whatever. WHATEVER," he snapped, as all the girls continued questioning him. "Dude, let's go. I don't want to stay here," he called out to Pat. His tall, blonde friend nodded and unlocked his car and Pat, Vanna, Rose and George climbed in. They all started asking George questions, but he told them to shut up, he'd tell them when he felt like telling.
George stayed in the car as the foursome pulled up to Tim Hortons. He put on his iPod and closed his eyes, taking the whole backseat to himself while his friends had lunch inside. He just wanted to be alone and think about what happened. Elliott Smith calmed his nerves with his soothing lyrics and George only realized after that... Marc had been grinding into him. And he had felt something there that didn't belong to him. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, George thought. There was a tap at the door and George blindly opened it, the sun disorienting him for a second.
"I told you I'd come inside when I felt like it..." George paused as he saw who it was outside. As he looked up into those seafoam-like eyes he grimaced. "Oh, it's you."
"I'm sorry. I over-reacted. I'm really sorry okay? I don't normally treat new friends like that..."
"Yeah, I hope not," George interrupted.
"Look, I'm not gonna apologize if you're going to be rude," Marc said.
"Fine, fine whatever," George sighed.
"Alright. You just hit soft spot or two and I was already so wracked up at lunch that I just took it out on you. You didn't deserve that, after all the shit you've done for me already. Friends?" he offered a hand.
"As long as I don't find myself sprawled under you again," George answered, taking his hand.
"I can't promise that," Marc laughed and pulled his friend out of the car. He embraced him in a proper hug and George took this opportunity to press tighter. He could feel something familiar in the shorter boy's nether regions, poking his thigh.
"Uh dude..." George pointed out. Marc broke away from the hug and stood a bit further back.
"Shit! Sorry. I was a bit riled up from the fight. Damn things come out of nowhere sometimes though," he blushed, turning deep red.
"You keep on telling yourself that. You're just turned on by my handsomeness," George winked.
"Yeah and I'm also turned on by bleeding puppies," Marc replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
George laughed. Everything was looking up again after a little rough patch... or two. He just hoped that those weren't NRBs though (no reason boners) and that maybe... he had something to do with them.
"Planet Earth to George," Marc said waving his hand over his eyes. "You still up for that party tomorrow?"
"Wow, random. Yeah, wouldn't miss a chance to get drunk. You bring the booze, think of it as um, your apology to me," he told Marc.
"Do I have to pay for EVERYTHING in this relationship?" Marc asked.
"Yep, you're my bitch. And what's this relationship business Marky?" George asked.
"Oh geeze, another nickname. And yeah all friendships are relationships dumbass. Forgive me use of words," he said sarcastically again.
"I'd like to think all this sarcasm is due to my rubbing off on you..." George let the sentence hang as he just remembered the rubbing that just occurred. They both laughed at the double-entendre. "Marc, I just realized. How'd you find me?"
"Oh, coincidence. I saw your friends inside and asked where you were and after they made sure I wasn't going to kill you, they told me. Nice friends you have in there. Sorry about what I said about them before," Marc said embarrassed.
"Thanks. They're some of the closest people in the world to me. I don't know what I'd do without them you know?" George asked.
"I think I'm starting to," he replied.
Author's Note: again, I appreciate all the feedback :) sorry if the story is a bit slow for your tastes, I like to build up something meaningful