[closed] Corporate Douchebag & British Stoner : The Teenage Years

[bratchillsout]

Who? teenage!Phil (bratchillsout) & teenage!Dean Smith (respectedboy)
Where? An all boys boarding school somewhere in the wide and vague depths of Musebox Land
Why?! BECAUSE WE CAN

Comments

[respectedboy]

Dean is actually pretty excited. Transferring schools is supposed to be an adventure - making friends, forging new and potentially-beneficial-for-the-future alliances. When he becomes the next Donald Trump, he's going to be happy that he maintained such good connections at such a young age.

Private schools are the hubs of intelligence and bastions of sanity. Dean remembers begging his dad to let him go after presenting a meticulously organized bar chart illustrating and weighing the pros and cons of the private educational system versus the public school sphere.

This is what he toiled for! The right to learn!

Which is why when Dean opens the door to his dorm room and is immediately assaulted by the smell of pot, he wrinkles his nose, coughs, and leans in the doorway. This must be a mistake.

"Um. Is this Room 69?"

[bratchillsout]

If the narration had to sum up Phil's thoughts on being here then it would encounter a large gap in the flow of words. Phil is not one to think about tomorrow, let alone the distant future. Planning ten minutes ahead is as far as his ambition usually takes him.

He interrupts his body art and looks up, a wolf whistle urgently pushing past any other form of greeting or response. Of course his standards for such a display were never that high to begin with, but it's nice that every once in a while he can shoot for the stars rather than into a dirty sock.

"That's the one."

He puts the marker between his lips, shifts and sits up, just enough to get a good look at the new arrival.

"Though you look a bit overdressed for 69."

[respectedboy]

Dean feels all his expectations of a private academy withering miserably on the vine. The room is an absolute wreck. Clothes, books, papers, Chinese take-out boxes...everything is everywhere. He can't even see his own bed.

Shuffling into the room, luggage in tow and expression wary, Dean glances around with worry and trepidation. He was supposed to be rooming with an upperclassman. This looks like a hobo's worst nightmare.

Ignoring the sexual jibe, Dean makes a face and sets his bags down.

"...you are-" he checks the slip of paper in his left hand. "Philip LaFresque, right?"

[bratchillsout]

This is no mistake, mind. Phil's dad is perfectly upperclass, educated and goal-oriented as they come.

"Uh..."

...Which probably explains why he shipped his deviant son off to a boarding school after a few years of mutual frustration.

"Sure, why not," Phil chuckles, only all too amused at hearing his full name from somebody not currently trying to teach or arrest him.

"Try Phil though, saves you some time."

Phil stretches, taking a nostalgic glance at Dean's bed aka. his former laundry basket and temporary food storage unit.

"Need any help undressing?"

Raising both eyebrows Phil puts one hand over his mouth histrionically.

"Oops. I meant unpacking."

[new entries are for people who are not lazy]

[bratchillsout]

Some time after the end of their first encounter Phil is back in position, that is to say lying lazily on his bed, playing with-- well, it's not his pen anymore, but those first three letters are already a good start.

He sort of expected Dean to be back by now, but Phil's been told that their library is pretty impressive for a boarding school (I mean, if you're into that sort of thing), so he wouldn't be surprised if the new kid lost track of time in there.

No skin off his nose, he can entertain himself just fine. Even though those lips sure are fantastic roommates to have.

[respectedboy]

The new kid is not, in fact, perusing the contents of the rather expansive library at Insert-Name-Here School for Boys. He is gingerly limping his way back to dorm room sixty-nine after an encounter that he's still trying desperately to wipe from his mind. He didn't cry, but his cheeks - the ones on his face and elsewhere - are burning with shame.

When he reaches the door, he just can't find it in himself to care anymore. Dean shoves it open and it slams against the wall.

He steps inside. He looks at Phil, lounging on his bed without a care in the world.

"You."

[bratchillsout]

Already sensing the gravity of the situation Phil adjusts his position and demeanour accordingly.

"S'up."

Read: Not.

[respectedboy]

"Mr. Witterby saw me leaving the basement."

Dean prompts him, waiting for some kind of recognition.