Smells Like Teen Spirit
by Shannon the Twisted Link Worshiper

(x) X (x)

Game 1
Sympathy For the Devil

(x) X (x)

Come and I’ll take you under
This beautiful bruise’s colours.
Everything fades in time,
It’s true.

Wish that I had another
Stab at the undercover.
Was it a change in mind for you?

Set myself up.
I can’t let it out.
But you’ll never know.
Am I selling you out?
Sit and watch
Your every mood.

Your eyes still remind me of
Angels that hover above.
Eyes that can change from blind
To blue.

Set myself up.
I can’t let it out,
But you’ll never know.
Am I selling you out?
Sit and watch
Your every mood.

Now that I found my reward,
I’ll throw it away long before
I share a piece of mine
With you.

(x) X (x)

“Hello, Maxwell’s Little Shop of Horrors,” Duo answered the junky phone sitting on his garage workbench with his usual greeting, turning down the radio as he picked up the handset. He leaned against the concrete wall as he spoke, wiping the oil splotch on his cheek with an old rag. “How can I help you?”

“Is this Duo Maxwell?” the female voice on the other end of the line spoke. Her voice, a clean even alto tone, sounded authoritative and important. Duo mentally cringed at the sound, knowing that when people with authoritative and important voices called, it usually meant that Duo had done something. Correction, Duo Maxwell had always done something; the problem was the few times he actually got caught.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Duo gritted his teeth unconsciously, nervous as to what this woman could possibly want. He did not recognize the voice right off the top of his head, though she sounded vaguely familiar. He hoped to everything holy that she was not a cop or something. Some of the parts he used in his shop were more than a little illegal and he had some rather interesting means of getting his hands on them, often just as illegal as whatever it was he was after. “What can I do for you?” he asked again.

“Is either your mother or your father home? It’s Lady Une,” the woman said, revealing herself as the principal of his school. Duo flinched a little, taking a quick look around the cavernous concrete space, the body of a dismantled sleek black car sitting in the middle of the garage and the engine lying strewn about on the floor beside it, surrounded by the cluttered mess of most everything else he owned. That was about the extent of the company he kept in the garage. Yeah, he was definitely in trouble; there was nothing else the head of his school could possibly be calling for. “Err, no,” Duo said, trying to mask his nervousness. He had no parents to hand the phone over to anyway. He had faked his way into school and lived by himself in the loft over the garage. “Neither can come to the phone right now. Can I… take a message?”

“I suppose it doesn’t matter if I speak to them or you,” Une answered with a sigh. “As you know, Christmas break’s almost up and you’ll be in the last couple months of school….”

“Yeah, so?” Duo cut her off, slapping himself for his rudeness a second after he had opened his mouth. Duo had trouble keeping his thoughts to himself sometimes and he often ended up getting in hot water for his commentary. “Sorry,” he mumbled in apology. “Go on.”

“Quite all right,” Une replied, though Duo could tell by her tone that she was a little irritated that he had interrupted her in mid-sentence. “Mr. Maxwell, let me just ask you where you see yourself next year.”

“Hopefully in college getting a degree,” Duo answered honestly, though he was a little worried that she was calling him by his surname, a sign that she was serious about something. “I think I would die if I had to hang around this honky-tonk town for the rest of my life.”

Much as he loved his life as a mechanic in his little nondescript beach town by the ocean, he had to admit that he was not doing the best for himself that he possibly could. Being a student and banging around in the garage was one thing; being bald and sixty and still banging around in the garage was a completely different story. He had decided a long time ago that he had to blaze through school and get himself as far away from that town as he could get, hopefully ending up as an engineer or something of that nature. “Why, is there a problem, ma’am?”

“Well, somewhat,” she admitted, her sigh crackling over the line. “I’ll be honest with you, Mr. Maxwell, I like you. You’ve been a nice asset to our school, very talented and smart, even if a little on the troublesome side, however….”

“What did I do now?” he said suddenly, trying to swallow the panic in his voice. He was worried Une might have found out about one of his… side-jobs or after-school “hobbies” or maybe even some of his more… colourful… talents, and wanted to boot him out for good. “Whatever it is that I did, I swear it wasn’t me!”

“Please, take a breath, Mr. Maxwell!” Une chided much as a mother would a small child. “Well, let’s just say that one of the school’s guidance councilors and I were looking over various students’ records, and we found a few—how do I put this—holes, in yours, Mr. Maxwell.”

“Hey, that’s no fair!” Duo scoffed, getting a little defensive. He tossed his rag to the floor in frustration and flipped his long brown hair over his shoulder. “I’ve got more than enough credits to pass senior year, Lady! Two extra sciences, an extra literature credit and I’ve even done tech for the play for the past two years to fill up for extracurricular activities! How can you tell me that I might not be able to pass!”

“It’s not your academics that caught my eye, Mr. Maxwell,” she said, her voice still carrying that diplomatic teacher quality. “And I’m not saying that you’re not involved with the school, because your dedicated participation with the school’s drama department is quite admirable, but I’ve gotten yet another report from the police about you….”
Duo chuckled nervously, knowing that he was found out. Usually he was pretty careful about said underhand dealings, but there had been a few times that he had slipped up and the school had gotten wind of it. “Let me explain to you something about the business of running a garage…” he began.

“Mr. Maxwell, save it,” she ordered. The blunt tone in her voice shut Duo up immediately and he had nothing else to do but listen to what she had to say and accept his punishment. “This is not the first time I’ve heard stories about you, and much as I wanted to not believe them, I am seriously beginning to wonder. Apparently you’ve been caught participating in another illegal drag race, though you managed to get out of there before you were physically caught, not to mention some charges for petty theft and drug use. Now, the first couple of times I heard about these little weekend excursions of yours, I was more than willing to let them slide as I really do like you and feel that you have a good deal of potential. Besides, what you do outside of school should not be any of my business and is of no harm to the actual school community, even if it’s trouble for the rest of this town. However, this is the sixth time I’ve gotten a report like this and I don’t think you’ll ever learn unless I put my foot down, Mr. Maxwell, so I’m afraid I’ll have to take some action.”

“What kind of action would you be referring to, ma’am?” Duo questioned with a forced laugh that sounded fake even to his ears. Duo had always been the sort to write things off with a laugh like that, even when things were a little rough. It was the best he could do to keep from being depressed. Sometimes living alone could get terribly lonely, even with friends.

“Well, I would say that doing some more tech work with the crew for this year’s play would be in order, but as you know, the old theatre is undergoing some renovations… especially after the Noodle Incident. So we won’t be doing a production this spring, as you should obviously know,” she started off. Duo grinned inwardly to himself at the mention of the episode that had been dubbed the Noodle Incident. He and a few friends from the play had pulled a rather ingenious senior prank a few months back that had left the school in an uproar. They had decided they needed to let the school know that a nicer performing arts facility was required by the young thespians of the community as their current stage was little more than a platform in a crumbly old back portion of the building (they didn’t even have a curtain!). Of course, Headmistress Une did not know that it had been Duo who had been the master of that plan. She went on rambling, taking a very long time to get to her point. “But since I don’t want to see someone whom society could actually benefit from floundering because of a few mistakes, I’m willing to pull some strings for you, Mr. Maxwell.”

“Oh yeah?” Duo asked tentatively. He did not like the turn this conversation had taken and was beginning to worry he might end up scrubbing toilets with a toothbrush and a bar of soap for the rest of the year with the way things were starting to sound. “What kind of strings?”

“Well, the varsity lacrosse team needs a new manager….” Une baited, trailing off to see if Duo would jump on the opportunity. When he did not, she tried to sweeten the deal with a few extra words. “I’d be willing to ensure that you get the spot if you’re interested. It’d be a good way to make up for the trouble you’ve been in as of late, Mr. Maxwell. They even count that kind of thing as community service at some schools. The idea is to keep you off the streets and out of trouble while the theatre is on a hiatus.”

For a moment, he almost regretted the Noodle Incident, though he knew that in the long run, the arts department would eventually flourish with a new and modern stage. But of all forms of divine retribution, it had to be this! Duo was more of a punk type who liked loud rock music and engines, certainly one who was not particularly fond of jocks and that whole scene. Most of them bothered the shit out of him, always walking around school like they ran the place just because they had a stupid letter on their jackets. He decided that this would make him a martyr. Looking on the bright side, he figured that perhaps he had a shot of getting into heaven yet, and as a saint at that! “I’m stuck, aren’t I?” Duo said blandly, knowing that there was little he could do to escape this fate.

“Yes, Mr. Maxwell, I think you are,” Une said, trying to sound cheerful. She tried to make him more interested. She had expected his lack of enthusiasm from the beginning, but it was the best she could do for him with the drama department currently on hold. “Don’t worry. It won’t be as bad as it seems. You’ll be able to get out of class early when the team has to go away for games. Come on, Duo, it’s lacrosse. Everyone likes it!”

“Everyone is not me,” Duo groaned, kicking the rag at his feet dejectedly. There was nothing he could do to get out of this. He was royally screwed. “Well, I guess if I’m stuck watching a bunch of thugs chase a ball around with sticks, I might as well benefit from it. I don’t have to really watch the game, do I?”

“No, I guess not,” she replied, sounding all honey and sugar again. She quickly ended the conversation before Duo had a chance to complain again. “I think you’ll have a good time with those boys this spring. They’re such nice young men”—Duo rolled his eyes at that—“I’m glad you’re so willing to do this, Duo. I hate seeing good people go bad. See you tomorrow, Mr. Maxwell.”

“Right,” Duo sighed, hanging up the phone. He stared down at his dirty old black Converse shoes, toeing the rag before giving it an annoyed kick towards the car. He let out an even more frustrated yell, tugging at his long plait of golden brown hair as he screamed out, “Shit! This just fucking sucks! Jocks fucking suck!”

(x) X (x)

A light rapping on the window of the side door roused Duo from his sleep. Letting out a low groan, Duo rolled over, his nose smashing into the flat concrete floor of the garage. “Dammit,” he muttered to himself, stretching out like a large cat, “I fell asleep on the floor again.”

The knock sounded again on the window, this time harder and more impatient. Duo somehow managed to get to his feet, attempting to straighten out the rumpled clothes from the day before that he had fallen asleep in as he walked over to the door. On the other side of the wood and glass panel stood a short young boy with wide sea green eyes, a warm smile and sunny golden hair combed neatly over his head, his bangs falling in somewhat unruly wisps over his pale forehead. His grin widened tenfold when he saw Duo standing just inside the door and he waved cheerfully at him in greeting.
Duo’s returned greeting consisted of a bang on one of the four glass panes in the door and another huge yawn. Tiredly, he reached for the brass doorknob and gave it a twist, pulling the door open for his flaxen haired friend.

“Good morning, Duo!” the boy bubbled as he stepped inside in accordance to their usual morning ritual. “How are you this fine day?”

“Morning, Quatre,” Duo replied, keeping the thought that it should be illegal to be that chipper before noontime safely to himself, forcing as large a smile as he could for the hour. Taking a look at the large metal clock hanging over the door, though he knew what the time was already, he groaned to Quatre, “Now remind me, Q, why is it you come to rattle my door at 7:08 every school day of the year?”

“Because you’d never get your lazy butt out of bed, dressed and to school on time if I didn’t,” Quatre returned with a cheeky grin, closing the door behind him. He trailed after Duo as he slumped back down the little side hall towards the main garage where his current project was sitting. “Go get dressed and I’ll make coffee. You look like you got hit by a car.”

“No, just slept with one,” Duo answered snidely, patting the black hood of his car as he walked by it on his way to the iron spiral staircase on the other side of the shop that wound up to Duo’s bedroom loft. “Hey do me a favour and water Audrey II while you’re at it,” he called down to Quatre, jerking his head towards the large plant that sat in an oversized copper pot near the refrigerator.

“You’ve got to start getting a better night’s sleep in your bed, for once! That’s what it’s for!” the blonde called after his retreating friend as he climbed the stairs to his room. Quatre made a disappointed clicking sound in the back of his throat as he made his way to the large refrigerator sitting beside the metal sink in the rear of the garage. Duo had somehow managed to live off of grease, pipes and a fridge overly stocked with caffeine and leftover takeout, a feat that even Quatre, his best friend, had trouble understanding. Deciding that he probably never would, he grabbed the coffee tin off the windowsill over the sink and went about preparing Duo the morning jolt he needed to make it to lunch.
Meanwhile, upstairs, Duo was groaning to himself over the hellish torment that the day was sure to have in store for him. Sports tryouts were to be that afternoon, and as Une had decided that Duo was to be the varsity lacrosse team’s manager, he was stuck being the slave to a whole world that he would rather have stayed away from for the rest of his life.

“Damn fucking jocks,” Duo grumbled as he dove under the bed in search of something to wear. He was a pretty good looking guy, if he did say so himself, with a narrow build, exotic violet eyes and long hair that stroked the backs of his thighs when let free. He was one of those who could carry off a vast array of styles ranging from Goth and punk to loud and hippie, pulling off each equally well. It was quite a rare trait, particularly with one whose looks were as unique as Duo’s.

His room was a motley place albeit somewhat disorganized. It was a loft space with a low slanted ceiling that rose up into a peak over the middle of the room. The low futon bed was illuminated by three of the track lights that were fixed to the sloping roof above, casting the unmade black and white sheets in a muted orange glow. The walls were sponge-painted a soft lavender colour, contrasting nicely to the rest of the room’s furniture, which was welded by Duo himself out of spare metal sheets and parts, making for a very cyber-punk kind of effect. Large drafts of his favourite and current projects were tacked to the ceiling, accompanied by a few random posters of his most loved bands. A fan crafted similarly to the furniture spun lazily around overhead.

He stumbled back down the spiral staircase into the shop about a half-hour later, clad in a pair of clingy black bellbottoms and a loose red silk shirt, his clunky boots thudding dully on the stairs as he descended. As he followed the alluring scent of Quatre’s perfect coffee, his long hair spilled over his furiously moving hands as he deftly braided it into its traditional plait. Finished braid draped luxuriously across his shoulder, he tailed it off with a black rubber band and threw the chestnut hued tail behind him as he reached for a steel thermos full of coffee.

“Good as ever,” Duo complimented, taking a sip, the light surge of energy warming through his veins as he did so. “I don’t know if I’ll ever find anyone else who can brew a cup of Java the way you do and pour it just the way I like it, lotsa sugar, zero cream.”
Quatre laughed from his spot by the sink, rinsing out the mug he had used to fill himself a cup with. “Well, you’ve got your coffee and now you’re dressed,” he said, turning around as he shook his hands dry, “so let’s get going. You don’t want to be late on the first day back in the new year!”

“You’d be surprised,” Duo muttered as Quatre led the way to the side door he had entered through. Quatre picked up his blue backpack from the spot he had left it and threw it over a shoulder, opening the door and stepping outside, slowly meandering down the back street Duo’s home sat on towards the main street, knowing that it would speed his friend up. Soon Duo came out with an orange satchel slung across his chest, locking the six dead bolts on the door behind him and walking quickly down the alleyway after Quatre. Though Duo did not exactly live in a bad part of town, it was not exactly the best neighbourhood in the world either and it never hurt to be cautious, especially when he had a shop full of parts to keep safe, hence the extra locks on his door.

“Why, what’s wrong Duo?” Quatre asked, sensing his friend’s distress as they walked down the empty sidewalk, past a row of sleepy townhouses that were still dark in the early morn. Quatre had always had this strange sixth sense, easily able to detect the feelings of others by simply their mere presence. The gift was even more intensified with people he had a special connection to, sometimes even allowing him to read actual thoughts instead of just waves of emotion. It had actually been a big factor in how he and Duo had met in the first week of freshman year.

Duo himself had a few interesting gifts of his own, possessing some similarities in their ‘genetics’ so to speak. Quatre had been drawn down an empty corridor by a strange tugging sensation from his Sense, only to have Duo topple down on him from out of thin air. Apparently he had been hiding from some seniors who had been threatening to shear off his precious braid with a pair of scissors. The strange nature of their meeting had been enough to give the boys excuse to become friends, and had remained as such ever since.

“Aw it’s nothing,” Duo carped in a quiet voice, kicking a stone lying in the middle of the sidewalk down the street, eyes focused on only the misshapen pebble as they walked. “Just something stupid. Forget it, Q.”

“You’re a big fat liar and you know it,” Quatre persisted, grabbing Duo’s sleeve and yanking him to a halt. “You usually don’t mind school so much so long as you stay away from the people you hate and they stay away from you. We’re not taking another step until you tell me why you’re so unhappy to go to school today.”

Duo groaned in defeat, sending a pleading stare up to the sky as he started to talk. “Stupid Lady Une decided that I needed to get involved with some extra curricular activity to keep me out of trouble. Apparently the stupid school found out about that race the other week as well as the little ‘shopping spree’ I went on the week before.” He moaned again, covering his face with his hands and slowly dragging them down his face. “God, it’s not even that bad. All I took was a small set of socket wrenches, and a pair of pliers and a bag of nuts and bolts! It’s not even like they missed the damn things!”

“Duo, I thought you promised me your New Year’s resolution this year would be to stop stealing,” Quatre said seriously, wagging a condemning finger in Duo’s face, his other hand still wrapped tightly around his friend’s arm. “You can’t just go around taking whatever you like whenever you want it!”

“Well what if I need something here and there,” Duo defended himself, putting on the sad puppy dog eyes. Unfortunately for him, he was dealing with the boy who had invented the sad puppy dog eye look, and therefore, found his target immune to it. Quatre crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow, looking more amused than upset. He was one of those who somehow ended up looking cute even when he was not trying to be. “I don’t have the money to pay for everything all the time! Guy’s gotta live somehow!”

“Duo….” Quatre’s tone was warning, as if daring his longhaired friend to continue. While he understood that Duo did not have that much money at his disposal all the time, he knew that Duo had a bad habit of kleptomania even when he had won a pocketful of cash in a race. Coming from a rather distinguished family on the higher end of society, Quatre could not pretend that he totally understood what side of the road Duo was coming from. His friend had often confided in him about his rather rocky past, which included being abandoned at a young age and a childhood of gangs and street fights so he supposed he could somewhat empathize with Duo’s need to survive. Nevertheless, he could not help but think that it was time Duo started to make amends to his character if he wanted to attain that life he always talking about grasping for himself.

“Look Q, just drop it,” Duo said, trying to wrestle free of Quatre’s grip, but the blonde boy kept a surprisingly good hold on the struggling mechanic. Duo frowned at his friend and stuck out his tongue, squinting his eyes shut as he did so and concentrating hard. Suddenly, the braided boy exploded into a cloud of wispy black tendrils that raced past Quatre in a mocking whoosh, knitting back into the solid form of one Duo Maxwell behind Quatre. This little hidden talent of Duo’s had been with him ever since he was a kid, apparently the result of a strange mutation in his genetics, much like the one that caused Quatre’s Sense. He had always known he was much different from a lot of people but he never let it bring him down and often used it to his advantage, be it stealing or escaping nosy friends. Unfortunately, not everyone in the world seemed to think that mutated genetics were all that great, whether they were jealous or just plain afraid. Funny that mankind was the result of a mutation in the genetics of monkeys; people like Duo and Quatre were just more evolved versions of humans.

Quatre turned around and frowned at the sadistically grinning Duo, stomping a foot irately. “Not fair, Duo,” he chided, swinging a playful fist at the other boy as he sauntered past. “You’re going to tell me soon or I’m going to find out on my own!”
“Just forget it, Q!” He started down the sidewalk again, refusing to say any more on the matter. “Hurry up or we’ll miss the bell!” he shouted over his shoulder in an effort to distract the conversation.

“Sorry, Duo. I didn’t mean to sound condescending,” Quatre apologized, rushing to catch up to Duo, soon walking in sync with his chestnut haired friend again. After going about a block in silence, they reached their school, a new building that sat on a campus that had once been two separate schools, one for boys and the other for girls. It had since then merged into one larger cooed establishment. Students were streaming into the school’s main doors in droves, rushing to get to their first class just as the first bell sounded.
Quatre stopped and let out a sigh, switching the shoulder he was carrying his bag on, massaging the other as he started up again. “What are they even having you do? Don’t you usually help out with the play when they try to make you do extra stuff for the school?”

“I would, except they aren’t doing a production this season,” Duo answered dejectedly as they entered the school’s front gates, slowly making their way across the slowly emptying school yard.

“Oh yeah, the Noodle Incident,” Quatre mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Did you and those guys ever get caught for that? Is that why they’re mad at you?”

“Oh no, no,” Duo replied with a back-and-forth wave of his hand, suddenly cheerful. “I never get caught. Besides, the administration had that coming after all these years of giving the arts the back seat to the stupid athletic department. Hopefully once they finish the theatre, we’ll be able to do a real production. I wouldn’t worry about them finding out about it if I were you, Q. After all, the people here are amateurs, barely able to run a school; they don’t know how to catch a good thief like me.”

“Then how did you get caught steal—”

“That was a fluke that had nothing to do with me,” Duo cut his friend off sharply as they started up the front stairs. “Besides, the only reason they’re making me suffer so much is because they want to teach me a lesson. Like I could learn anything from their ancient Chinese torture!”

“What are they even making you do?” Quatre finally asked, holding the door open for Duo as they entered the building. “It can’t be half as bad as you make it sound.”

“Oh believe me, it is,” Duo insisted, shooting a glare at Quatre, who was still looking at him with a face that demanded the much awaited answer. Duo stopped in the middle of the hall and whirled around, arms flying out on either side of him as if to express the magnitude of the trouble. “Manager of the lacrosse team, Quatre. Lacrosse!”

“Aw, that’s not so bad,” Quatre wrote it off with a roll of his head and a shrug. “Here I was thinking like they were going to put you on lunch detail every day for the rest of the year or something. I think you got it easy. That will actually be fun, Duo!”

“Not that bad? Not that…” Duo stumbled over his words, his lips warbling and drawn in a tight frown, the most indignant and insulted look hardened on his face. He was suddenly right in Quatre’s personal space, his outburst forcing Quatre to bend back a little to keep away from the occasional drop of spit that flew from Duo’s lips as he yelled. “Not that BAD? Fun you say? Quatre, do you have any idea how painful it will be for me to have to drag my ass to the lacrosse field every day after school to sit through a two and half hour period, watching a bunch of ugly sweaty guys practice beating each other to death with cleats and sticks? I’ll kill myself before graduation! It’s an outrage! It’s a disgrace to the name of Maxwell! They’re forcing me to be the slave to the very race I have fought all my life to exterminate from the face of the earth!”

“Duo, really, it’s really not that bad,” Quatre said, a flustered expression on his face as he checked the hall for anyone who might have heard Duo’s rant. “I was manager for the basketball team last winter. It was actually a very enjoyable experience. It’s like taking command of an army squad or something, becoming part of a whole unit that works as one. Teamwork, Duo, teamwork!” he protested adamantly, pounding a fist into his other open palm a couple times. “Really, it’s quite fulfilling… not to mention you get out of school early for away games!” On a side thought, he added with an almost lecherous smile, his eyes sliding shiftily to the side, finger curled under his lip, “And I might add that lax guys are very rarely ugly….”

“Are you listening to me Quatre? Or are the perverted thoughts riddling your brain right now too distracting?” Duo complained, stamping his foot as if to emphasize his point. “This is just more proof that the stupid athletics get everything they put their grubby little hands out for. It’s always take, take, take with them, unlike the poor artsy kids who have to practically revolt to get anything done around here. The second their precious lacrosse team needs a slave to obey their every beck and call, right away, the school is on it to find some poor unsuspecting sap like me to fill the position. But when we needed a stage manager for the play, did we get any help like that? Noooooo. Instead, the AD had to double her duties as assistant director and keep track of both the prompt book and the call book. Let me tell you, it’s physically impossible to write blocking and watch for errors in the performance at the same—”

“Duo… Duo,” Quatre silenced him by smacking his hand over Duo’s jabbering mouth and holding it there. Duo had a tendency to ramble on and on if one gave him the chance and it was usually up to Quatre to make sure his speeches did not get too out of control. For instance, there had been one time when Duo had been very lucky when Quatre and he had been assigned to be partners for a history project a few years back; it had been Quatre’s constant kicking him in the shins beneath the table that kept him from saying something he might have regretted during the debate. “Duo, take a breather, okay? You’re really making this out to be worse than it is. Did it ever occur to you that trying something new might be fun?”

“Mmff fffmm ffunnfmmiitt fmmmfft mmffeellltt,” Duo mumbled—the palm of Quatre’s hand muffled whatever he had tried to say.

“No Duo, the sunlight will not make you melt,” Quatre insisted as he slowly removed his hand, apparently able to understand Duo despite the incoherence of his words to the normal untrained ear. “I think it’s good for you to get some fresh air for once. You need to spend more time with other people here anyway. It won’t kill you to be nice to someone other than your usual gang for a change.”

“Quatre, you are my usual gang!” Duo’s voice was right back up at the decibel it had been moments before. “I won’t go changing myself to please a bunch of superficial bastards!”

“Who said anything about change?” Quatre asked, blinking large confused eyes at his friend as he took him by the arm and started to lead his still fuming friend towards his first period class. “If they don’t like you, tough, their loss. All I’m saying is give it a try. Don’t just walk in there sure that it’s going to be hell because all I’m going to do is laugh at you when you come back and tell me you actually like it.”

“Yeah right,” Duo said sarcastically with a downward swoop of his hand and a roll of his eyes. “Like that will happen.”

“Bet it will,” Quatre shot back, reaching around Duo’s body to grab his other arm, forcing the braided boy to face him. Even though Quatre barely reached Duo’s nose in height, the little blonde was radiating quite an air of confidence about him. “I’ll bet you anything you want that by the end of the season you actually like lacrosse.”

“Ha, that’s a good one Q,” Duo laughed heartily, throwing his head back in wicked glee. “Me, like an organized sport. Give me an engine and a set of wheels any day of the week over that! Hell, I’d take a friggin’ wagon with a motor on the back first!”
Quatre was unmoved by Duo’s antics, his face still as serious as it had been before. “I’ll bet you one good dinner at the restaurant of my choosing with shakes at Gifford’s afterwards that you’ll have a new appreciation for the game by the end of the year.”

“Oh yeah?” Duo arched a brow, obviously amused by the notion. “If I win—wait, scratch that—when I win, I want that dinner and at least four shakes for me at Gifford’s, plus a triple fudge banana split with extra toppings every day for a week.”

“Fine,” Quatre said quickly, sticking out his hand to seal the bet. “Deal.”
Duo grabbed it all too willingly, pumping it enthusiastically up and down as he said with a large cheesy grin, “You sure must like throwing money away, Q, ‘cause I’ll be making sure to pick a damn fine shindig for us to splurge at come graduation.”

“Sure Duo, whatever,” Quatre said, a knowing sly smile crossing his face just as the final bell for morning classes ring, breaking their handshake apart. As each of them took off for their respective first period, Quatre shot Duo another wily grin over his shoulder. The last time Duo had insisted that he would not like something happened the first time Quatre had brought him to Gifford’s and he had insisted that he would hate banana splits because he detested bananas. Next thing Quatre knew, it was such a regular thing for Duo to get at the scoop shop that when he walked through the front door, whoever was behind the counter would already be preparing the treat for their favourite customer. This bet would win him a good meal, easy.

(x) X (x)

A/N: Okay, I sure hope you guys are happy that I’ve decided to start putting this up, even though I’m not done. I’m really finicky and worried about it, so don’t be afraid to let me know how you think it’s going! This is going to be paced kind of realisticly, so there’s more room for development and stuff. I’m so proud, because I have like eight different plots going on at one time! Uhh, okay, I’m done. Hope you like it, and we’ll see about the next chapter soon. ^^

PS ~ The song at the top is by the Foo Fighters and is named “Hey Johnny Park”. It’s a good song, and they are a good band. Sadly, I missed going to see them when I won tickets ‘cause of something dumb that got in the way... Grrr....

PPS~ Who caught the Calvin and Hobbes reference? Umm, yet another one of my bibles....

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