Higschool!AU Chapter Four (Part 2)
Having a boyfriend was nice, Davey thought. But it made it slightly more difficult to get things done. They started hanging out more often, which meant that every once in a while, Freddy would want to come over when Davey actually had something to do; a set of worksheets to finish or a history paper to write.
"It's all right," Freddy said, bouncing up and down on Davey's bed. "I'll just sit here and be quiet."
Only Freddy would never be quiet, and instead loudly give his opinions on movies, fruit, and different brands of toilet paper, run around looking for baby pictures of Davey and demand to have them explained (which his mother indulged with alarming frequency), or, having exhausted all other options, he would stand over Davey's shoulder and watch him type without saying anything at all; forcing Davey to abandon his work and kiss him until Freddy was lazy and happy and quiet. He suspected that was Freddy's aim in the first place.
But it wasn't so bad, Davey thought on one such occasion when he'd been forced to resort to more forceful measures to calm Freddy down. Davey's toes curled happily in his socks as Freddy's hand sifted through his hair. He sighed. Freddy's waist shook violently. Lazily, Davey poked Freddy in the side. "Hey. You're vibrating."
Freddy lifted himself up on his elbows. "I don't know what you've heard," he grinned. "But even I can't make it do that."
Davey rolled his eyes and felt around Freddy's pocket, slipped out his phone and handed it to him, while Freddy watched his efforts silently. "Here."
Freddy flicked it open and stared at the screen for a few seconds before happily tossing it away. It clattered somewhere over the side of Davey's bed. Davey went diving after it, trying not to laugh as Freddy fingers danced under his shirt. He found Freddy's phone with his fingertips, grabbed it and shoved it back to him. "Not important?"
Freddy shook his head vigorously. "Just Pops. Told me to call him in the next hour if I could." He pulled back and looked at Davey's face. "That reminds me. I've been meaning to ask you something. It's kind of important."
Davey swallowed. Kissing made Davey's hair stick up in a billion different directions, made his face turn pink. Freddy always managed to look only a little artfully rumpled, as if he had just returned from a walk on a breezy day. It wasn't fair. "What?"
Freddy sighed. "Do you have one of those texting plans where it makes you pay, like, fifteen dollars if someone sends you a text?"
Davey blinked. "Uh, no. Free texts. That was important?"
Freddy nodded "I text all the time." He pushed his phone away. "Pops never calls me if he knows I'm at yours," he added blithely. "It ruins the mood."
"Hey, I'm not doing this because of your amazing seductive skills or anything," Davey said matter-of-factly. "I'd actually like to get some work done tonight and this is the only way I know how to make you happy and quiet enough to let me do it."
"Huh," Freddy said slowly. "So you're actually just distracting me to achieve academic success." Davey nodded. "Well, I'm okay with that."
"I thought you would be," Davey laughed, tugging him down by the collar.
But after that, Davey started wishing he had lied. Because telling Freddy he had unlimited texting was roughly akin to telling an alcoholic he had the last remaining beers in the known universe.
how r u? went the majority of Freddy's texts or i am bored ): Davey got in trouble so many times for having his phone go off that he started silencing it and just checking it during class, which only seemed to make Freddy more verbose. After one period of English his phone would generally look like this:
davey talk 2 me
miss u ):
u have sexy hands
wish they were on my body rite now
make out @ lunch y/n?
silence = y
davey im horny now
TALK 2 ME
"You have problems," Davey said to Freddy after one such class in which in the course of an hour he got bombarded with eleven new messages. "Maybe you should listen in class more and text me less."
"I do listen," Freddy explained patiently. "And it's way more boring than thinking about you."
"You're trying to be cute to get out of this argument, aren't you?" Davey sighed when Freddy pulled him in and gave him a long, lippy hello.
"I think it's working," Freddy whispered huskily, doing that grazing the shell of Davey's ear thing that made arguing really difficult and hiding his boner a bit more pressing than whatever they were talking about.
"Study hall," Davey said shortly, and then, to get back at Freddy, grabbed his face and proceeded to extremely thoroughly lick any semblance of rational thought that may have previously existed out via his mouth.
"Urk," Freddy squeaked.
"Have fun in Music History!" Davey chirped, pecking Freddy on the cheek and leaving him standing there holding his notebooks at an awkward angle for modesty. He wasn't that surprised when, while graphing a function, his phone lit up.
u suck, his phone informed him.
you started it Davey typed back.
sitting thru lecture w/semi, all ur fault
pay more attention
cant ): on jazz neways. kno this shit
then think about something else
like? Davey made an annoyed sound and pushed his half-finished math worksheet aside.
who would win in a fight, pirates or ninjas? he finally typed, figuring that that might keep Freddy occupied for long enough to at least finish a few problems. Two seconds later, his phone screen lit up again.
trick q, robots
robots were not an option
robots always win
no, ninjas
robots
And Davey had too many arguments to that to even reply to that one, so he typed out a quick meet me @ end of period outside study hall and brought out a fresh notebook page, and headed it "Why Ninjas are cooler than Robots".
"Okay," he said the second he got out and spotted Freddy. "I made a list."
"You made a list?" Freddy asked, looking over Davey's shoulder as he slung an arm around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his temple.
"No looking!" Davey yelped, pressing the notebook his chest. "Okay, reasons ninjas are cooler than robots -"
"- which they aren't - "
"One!" Davey said over Freddy. "Ninjas can't rust, robots can."
"Not if they're titanium," Freddy pointed out.
"Not all robots are made of titanium," Davey said. "Two, ninjas can't have programming errors..."
"But robots are cooler," Freddy said stubbornly.
"Not according to my list!" Davey crowed, waving the notebook page in front of Freddy's face. "See? Thirty reasons."
"Let me see that," Freddy said, grabbing the notebook. He scanned over them all until they reached Davey's Biology classroom.
"I win," Davey said smugly, when Freddy still hadn't come up with a reason Davey was wrong. "Suck it."
"Hold on," Freddy said, "I was just waiting until we stopped, hold this." He shoved the notebook back into Davey's hands, rummaged around for a red pen, and then took it back and scribbled something on the page. "There," he said, giving Davey a quick kiss. "Have fun in Bio."
"What - hey!" Davey shouted into the crowded hallway, where Freddy had already disappeared. "You just wrote 'robots are cooler'! That's not a reason." But Freddy was already gone. Grumbling, Davey sat down at his desk chair and took out his cell phone.
i hate you he texted to Freddy. A few minutes later the screen lit up.
<3 ;*, his phone said.
- - -
Freddy leaned over the table until the world flipped upside down. Davey's head bopped up somewhere in the middle as he mopped the floor of the cafe, biting the end of one lip, his face slightly flushed as he worked. No one had the right to look that good upside down, cleaning on a hot day. It was positively indecent, and it just made the waiting all the more frustrating. Freddy sat up a little from where he was sprawled and poked Davey with the edge of his sneaker. "Are you ever going to be done?"
"If you helped me," Davey replied, wringing out the mop and flicking water at Freddy affectionately, "I would be done faster and we could leave."
"Why can't Joey do it?" Freddy argued.
"He's taller and bigger than me. And he whines." Davey's eyes closed in pain. "He whines a lot."
"That's not fair," Freddy frowned. "Do you want me to make him do it for you? I'm tall. I could totally take him."
"Sure you can," Davey said soothingly. "And thanks for the offer, but I'm almost done."
"But when?" Freddy moaned. He flopped loosely back on the table. "Mopping is boring. For the both of us. You mopping is making me bored."
"You can't get secondhand bored," Davey rolled his eyes. "Do something. Listen to music. Text."
"I don't want to," Freddy said, toying with the edge of the table, moving out a salt shaker from where it poked his neck.
"At least sit in a chair. It's easier to mop under the tables without you lying on them."
"You moved all the chairs to the other side of the room," Freddy pointed. "I can't look at your ass from over there."
Davey cleared his throat.
"My bad," Freddy grinned. "I'm too tired to filter what comes out of my mouth. Don't you have like a connect-the-dot thing and some crayons or something?"
"This is a cafe," Davey rolled his eyes. "And those are for kids. Little kids." He frowned. "How can you be tired? I'm the one mopping."
"I've been sitting here the entire time." Freddy said slowly.
"Exactly my point," Davey muttered.
"I've been sitting here the entire time not jumping you," Freddy said. "We've been alone for a whole hour. This is a personal best."
"I'm mopping," Davey said, distraught. "That's not even - I'm mopping."
"You make noises, when you mop," Freddy rested his head in his hands. "You have these little grunts and then you make this excited little noise whenever you get something out. It's distracting."
"You're so strange," Davey sighed. "I don't even know what to do with that."
"Don't do anything then." Freddy shrugged, leaning back to stare at the ceiling. "I had this idea last night," he said after a while, perking up. "I'm going to bury a bunch of shit with my name on it."
"What?"
"Uh-huh. So when people dig it up thousands of years later, and find a bunch of shit with 'Frederick Kennedy' written all over it, they'll assume I was a famous guy." He smirked. "I'll even make statues of myself and bury them. They'll think people used to worship me."
"Someone will probably dig it up before then," Davey stretches out his shoulders. "They'll write 'sucks' at the bottom of everything. And by someone, I mean me."
"You're just jealous," Freddy said. "And here I was, just about to offer to bury stuff for you too."
"Thanks," Davey grinned. "You'll probably end up going down in history anyway, though. Most misdemeanors committed by a senior citizen, or something."
"You sure know how to cheer a guy up," Freddy flopped back onto the table, closing his eyes dramatically.
"Mhmm," Davey murmured, sliding the mop bucket under Freddy's table with his foot. He propped himself up over Freddy with his elbows, grinning. "It's a special skill of mine."
Freddy opened his eyes. Davey smelled oddly fresh, like lemon disinfectant. He looked tired, but his eyes were twinkling at him, large and brown and bright. They had small flecks of green in them, Freddy noticed. He hadn't noticed before, but then it wasn't as if he normally stared into people's eyes with the same kind of careful concentration as he did Davey's.
"Your eyes are sort of mossy," he blurted awkwardly, and then cursed himself inwardly. Every time he tried to say something like that, his tongue twisted and it came out less romantic and more something that he would say, stoned, to Chris.
"Right," Davey said. "Mossy."
"They are. Whatever," Freddy amended, changing the subject abruptly. "Just hurry up."
"Move your feet," Davey said, standing up. "I need to mop under the table."
Freddy moved on his side to watch Davey. He wasn't kidding about the ass thing - Davey had to stoop low to mop under all of the little tables. His customary hoodie was draped over one of the chairs. Whenever he bent to mop, his shirt would go straight up, exposing a short length of pale skin, and a few centimeters of his boxers over his pants.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Freddy raised an eyebrow. "What the hell are those?"
"What?" Davey looked up.
Freddy rolled his eyes and yanked at Davey's waistband, pulling him up. "Freddy -" Davey shouted, squirming as Freddy took the opportunity to cop a feel before peering down his pants.
"You own boxers with zebras on them?" Freddy asked incredulously.
"Yeah," Davey said, twisting himself out of Freddy's grasp. "They're awesome."
"You think crayons and connect-the-dots are for kids," Freddy said slowly. "But you own zebra boxers."
"Zebras are cool," Davey beamed, rubbing his hip fondly. "They have funky stripes. I have hippo ones, too. And frogs. And ones with popcorn. And ones with little comic book sayings, like, bam! And pow! And…"
"I have no words for you," Freddy cut him off, flopping backwards. "Whatever, at least I found this out now. I'd hate to find this out in a sexier situation and have to stop and make fun of you. Don't you ever wear normal boxers?"
Davey wrinkled his nose. "Solid colors are for boring people."
"Solid colors are for people over three," Freddy replied.
"Solid colors are for lame people," Davey repeated, sticking his tongue out at Freddy. "Ugh. I bet you wear boring white briefs. That Regina buys in bulk for you."
"Wouldn't you like to know," Freddy said mildly.
"I think I'll be fine without that information," Davey said, rolling his eyes. He wiped his brow with his forearm. "I've just got the back to do and we can go."
"I'll help," Freddy said, eyeing the mop with poorly concealed trepidation."You mop slowly."
"You've already waited one hour," Davey agreed. "Better not try for two. You might explode."
"Exactly."
"I'll even let you duct tape scrub brushes to your feet," Davey said magnanimously. "No one's too old for that."
"Best boyfriend ever," Freddy chirped, sliding off of the table and kissing Davey's forehead.
Part Three
"It's all right," Freddy said, bouncing up and down on Davey's bed. "I'll just sit here and be quiet."
Only Freddy would never be quiet, and instead loudly give his opinions on movies, fruit, and different brands of toilet paper, run around looking for baby pictures of Davey and demand to have them explained (which his mother indulged with alarming frequency), or, having exhausted all other options, he would stand over Davey's shoulder and watch him type without saying anything at all; forcing Davey to abandon his work and kiss him until Freddy was lazy and happy and quiet. He suspected that was Freddy's aim in the first place.
But it wasn't so bad, Davey thought on one such occasion when he'd been forced to resort to more forceful measures to calm Freddy down. Davey's toes curled happily in his socks as Freddy's hand sifted through his hair. He sighed. Freddy's waist shook violently. Lazily, Davey poked Freddy in the side. "Hey. You're vibrating."
Freddy lifted himself up on his elbows. "I don't know what you've heard," he grinned. "But even I can't make it do that."
Davey rolled his eyes and felt around Freddy's pocket, slipped out his phone and handed it to him, while Freddy watched his efforts silently. "Here."
Freddy flicked it open and stared at the screen for a few seconds before happily tossing it away. It clattered somewhere over the side of Davey's bed. Davey went diving after it, trying not to laugh as Freddy fingers danced under his shirt. He found Freddy's phone with his fingertips, grabbed it and shoved it back to him. "Not important?"
Freddy shook his head vigorously. "Just Pops. Told me to call him in the next hour if I could." He pulled back and looked at Davey's face. "That reminds me. I've been meaning to ask you something. It's kind of important."
Davey swallowed. Kissing made Davey's hair stick up in a billion different directions, made his face turn pink. Freddy always managed to look only a little artfully rumpled, as if he had just returned from a walk on a breezy day. It wasn't fair. "What?"
Freddy sighed. "Do you have one of those texting plans where it makes you pay, like, fifteen dollars if someone sends you a text?"
Davey blinked. "Uh, no. Free texts. That was important?"
Freddy nodded "I text all the time." He pushed his phone away. "Pops never calls me if he knows I'm at yours," he added blithely. "It ruins the mood."
"Hey, I'm not doing this because of your amazing seductive skills or anything," Davey said matter-of-factly. "I'd actually like to get some work done tonight and this is the only way I know how to make you happy and quiet enough to let me do it."
"Huh," Freddy said slowly. "So you're actually just distracting me to achieve academic success." Davey nodded. "Well, I'm okay with that."
"I thought you would be," Davey laughed, tugging him down by the collar.
But after that, Davey started wishing he had lied. Because telling Freddy he had unlimited texting was roughly akin to telling an alcoholic he had the last remaining beers in the known universe.
how r u? went the majority of Freddy's texts or i am bored ): Davey got in trouble so many times for having his phone go off that he started silencing it and just checking it during class, which only seemed to make Freddy more verbose. After one period of English his phone would generally look like this:
davey talk 2 me
miss u ):
u have sexy hands
wish they were on my body rite now
make out @ lunch y/n?
silence = y
davey im horny now
TALK 2 ME
"You have problems," Davey said to Freddy after one such class in which in the course of an hour he got bombarded with eleven new messages. "Maybe you should listen in class more and text me less."
"I do listen," Freddy explained patiently. "And it's way more boring than thinking about you."
"You're trying to be cute to get out of this argument, aren't you?" Davey sighed when Freddy pulled him in and gave him a long, lippy hello.
"I think it's working," Freddy whispered huskily, doing that grazing the shell of Davey's ear thing that made arguing really difficult and hiding his boner a bit more pressing than whatever they were talking about.
"Study hall," Davey said shortly, and then, to get back at Freddy, grabbed his face and proceeded to extremely thoroughly lick any semblance of rational thought that may have previously existed out via his mouth.
"Urk," Freddy squeaked.
"Have fun in Music History!" Davey chirped, pecking Freddy on the cheek and leaving him standing there holding his notebooks at an awkward angle for modesty. He wasn't that surprised when, while graphing a function, his phone lit up.
u suck, his phone informed him.
you started it Davey typed back.
sitting thru lecture w/semi, all ur fault
pay more attention
cant ): on jazz neways. kno this shit
then think about something else
like? Davey made an annoyed sound and pushed his half-finished math worksheet aside.
who would win in a fight, pirates or ninjas? he finally typed, figuring that that might keep Freddy occupied for long enough to at least finish a few problems. Two seconds later, his phone screen lit up again.
trick q, robots
robots were not an option
robots always win
no, ninjas
robots
And Davey had too many arguments to that to even reply to that one, so he typed out a quick meet me @ end of period outside study hall and brought out a fresh notebook page, and headed it "Why Ninjas are cooler than Robots".
"Okay," he said the second he got out and spotted Freddy. "I made a list."
"You made a list?" Freddy asked, looking over Davey's shoulder as he slung an arm around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his temple.
"No looking!" Davey yelped, pressing the notebook his chest. "Okay, reasons ninjas are cooler than robots -"
"- which they aren't - "
"One!" Davey said over Freddy. "Ninjas can't rust, robots can."
"Not if they're titanium," Freddy pointed out.
"Not all robots are made of titanium," Davey said. "Two, ninjas can't have programming errors..."
"But robots are cooler," Freddy said stubbornly.
"Not according to my list!" Davey crowed, waving the notebook page in front of Freddy's face. "See? Thirty reasons."
"Let me see that," Freddy said, grabbing the notebook. He scanned over them all until they reached Davey's Biology classroom.
"I win," Davey said smugly, when Freddy still hadn't come up with a reason Davey was wrong. "Suck it."
"Hold on," Freddy said, "I was just waiting until we stopped, hold this." He shoved the notebook back into Davey's hands, rummaged around for a red pen, and then took it back and scribbled something on the page. "There," he said, giving Davey a quick kiss. "Have fun in Bio."
"What - hey!" Davey shouted into the crowded hallway, where Freddy had already disappeared. "You just wrote 'robots are cooler'! That's not a reason." But Freddy was already gone. Grumbling, Davey sat down at his desk chair and took out his cell phone.
i hate you he texted to Freddy. A few minutes later the screen lit up.
<3 ;*, his phone said.
- - -
Freddy leaned over the table until the world flipped upside down. Davey's head bopped up somewhere in the middle as he mopped the floor of the cafe, biting the end of one lip, his face slightly flushed as he worked. No one had the right to look that good upside down, cleaning on a hot day. It was positively indecent, and it just made the waiting all the more frustrating. Freddy sat up a little from where he was sprawled and poked Davey with the edge of his sneaker. "Are you ever going to be done?"
"If you helped me," Davey replied, wringing out the mop and flicking water at Freddy affectionately, "I would be done faster and we could leave."
"Why can't Joey do it?" Freddy argued.
"He's taller and bigger than me. And he whines." Davey's eyes closed in pain. "He whines a lot."
"That's not fair," Freddy frowned. "Do you want me to make him do it for you? I'm tall. I could totally take him."
"Sure you can," Davey said soothingly. "And thanks for the offer, but I'm almost done."
"But when?" Freddy moaned. He flopped loosely back on the table. "Mopping is boring. For the both of us. You mopping is making me bored."
"You can't get secondhand bored," Davey rolled his eyes. "Do something. Listen to music. Text."
"I don't want to," Freddy said, toying with the edge of the table, moving out a salt shaker from where it poked his neck.
"At least sit in a chair. It's easier to mop under the tables without you lying on them."
"You moved all the chairs to the other side of the room," Freddy pointed. "I can't look at your ass from over there."
Davey cleared his throat.
"My bad," Freddy grinned. "I'm too tired to filter what comes out of my mouth. Don't you have like a connect-the-dot thing and some crayons or something?"
"This is a cafe," Davey rolled his eyes. "And those are for kids. Little kids." He frowned. "How can you be tired? I'm the one mopping."
"I've been sitting here the entire time." Freddy said slowly.
"Exactly my point," Davey muttered.
"I've been sitting here the entire time not jumping you," Freddy said. "We've been alone for a whole hour. This is a personal best."
"I'm mopping," Davey said, distraught. "That's not even - I'm mopping."
"You make noises, when you mop," Freddy rested his head in his hands. "You have these little grunts and then you make this excited little noise whenever you get something out. It's distracting."
"You're so strange," Davey sighed. "I don't even know what to do with that."
"Don't do anything then." Freddy shrugged, leaning back to stare at the ceiling. "I had this idea last night," he said after a while, perking up. "I'm going to bury a bunch of shit with my name on it."
"What?"
"Uh-huh. So when people dig it up thousands of years later, and find a bunch of shit with 'Frederick Kennedy' written all over it, they'll assume I was a famous guy." He smirked. "I'll even make statues of myself and bury them. They'll think people used to worship me."
"Someone will probably dig it up before then," Davey stretches out his shoulders. "They'll write 'sucks' at the bottom of everything. And by someone, I mean me."
"You're just jealous," Freddy said. "And here I was, just about to offer to bury stuff for you too."
"Thanks," Davey grinned. "You'll probably end up going down in history anyway, though. Most misdemeanors committed by a senior citizen, or something."
"You sure know how to cheer a guy up," Freddy flopped back onto the table, closing his eyes dramatically.
"Mhmm," Davey murmured, sliding the mop bucket under Freddy's table with his foot. He propped himself up over Freddy with his elbows, grinning. "It's a special skill of mine."
Freddy opened his eyes. Davey smelled oddly fresh, like lemon disinfectant. He looked tired, but his eyes were twinkling at him, large and brown and bright. They had small flecks of green in them, Freddy noticed. He hadn't noticed before, but then it wasn't as if he normally stared into people's eyes with the same kind of careful concentration as he did Davey's.
"Your eyes are sort of mossy," he blurted awkwardly, and then cursed himself inwardly. Every time he tried to say something like that, his tongue twisted and it came out less romantic and more something that he would say, stoned, to Chris.
"Right," Davey said. "Mossy."
"They are. Whatever," Freddy amended, changing the subject abruptly. "Just hurry up."
"Move your feet," Davey said, standing up. "I need to mop under the table."
Freddy moved on his side to watch Davey. He wasn't kidding about the ass thing - Davey had to stoop low to mop under all of the little tables. His customary hoodie was draped over one of the chairs. Whenever he bent to mop, his shirt would go straight up, exposing a short length of pale skin, and a few centimeters of his boxers over his pants.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Freddy raised an eyebrow. "What the hell are those?"
"What?" Davey looked up.
Freddy rolled his eyes and yanked at Davey's waistband, pulling him up. "Freddy -" Davey shouted, squirming as Freddy took the opportunity to cop a feel before peering down his pants.
"You own boxers with zebras on them?" Freddy asked incredulously.
"Yeah," Davey said, twisting himself out of Freddy's grasp. "They're awesome."
"You think crayons and connect-the-dots are for kids," Freddy said slowly. "But you own zebra boxers."
"Zebras are cool," Davey beamed, rubbing his hip fondly. "They have funky stripes. I have hippo ones, too. And frogs. And ones with popcorn. And ones with little comic book sayings, like, bam! And pow! And…"
"I have no words for you," Freddy cut him off, flopping backwards. "Whatever, at least I found this out now. I'd hate to find this out in a sexier situation and have to stop and make fun of you. Don't you ever wear normal boxers?"
Davey wrinkled his nose. "Solid colors are for boring people."
"Solid colors are for people over three," Freddy replied.
"Solid colors are for lame people," Davey repeated, sticking his tongue out at Freddy. "Ugh. I bet you wear boring white briefs. That Regina buys in bulk for you."
"Wouldn't you like to know," Freddy said mildly.
"I think I'll be fine without that information," Davey said, rolling his eyes. He wiped his brow with his forearm. "I've just got the back to do and we can go."
"I'll help," Freddy said, eyeing the mop with poorly concealed trepidation."You mop slowly."
"You've already waited one hour," Davey agreed. "Better not try for two. You might explode."
"Exactly."
"I'll even let you duct tape scrub brushes to your feet," Davey said magnanimously. "No one's too old for that."
"Best boyfriend ever," Freddy chirped, sliding off of the table and kissing Davey's forehead.
Part Three