GLEE: The Problem Is That There's A Problem
Title: The Problem Is That There's A Problem
Author: infraredphaeton
Summary: Kurt has a problem with bullies. Mainly that they exist. Pratik has a problem with bullies. Mainly that they keep bullying him.
Warnings: Eric, language (Lee), sexual situations (gay), OCs
A/N: Sorry this took so long, guys!
---
Liam Van Shriek was not a judgemental person. Or at least, he tried not to be.
As a guy who played sports, he was used to being put into a certain stereotypical mould, and he’d always despised being judged on his looks (handsome, tall, muscled- immediate decision: dumb jock).
Still, he thought, hitting the baseball with a solid crack and sending it flying, it was hard not to judge what he was hearing.
“So she said we’ll go see the performance of A Chorus Line being done at the community theatre in Lima. She’s performed there a lot of times, too,” Eric continued, perching on top of one of the benches as Liam continued his batting practice.
“That’s great, Eric.”
“She said she’s really looking forward to it. Which I can understand, of course, what with it being me who she’s going out with,” Eric grinned fiercely, running a hand through his messy ginger hair, “so I’m going to take her out for dinner, too.”
“You’re going to eat dinner?” Liam asked, hitting the next ball even harder.
crack!
“Well, it wouldn’t exactly work if I took her out for dinner and then didn’t eat,” Eric said, rolling his eyes, “try to keep up, Liam.”
“So, where are you taking her?” Liam darted a look at Eric, who was now dangling upside down from a balance bar.
“Some vegan place. She suggested it, and I, being the gracious man that I am, agreed.”
crack!
“Did she say why she broke up with her boyfriend?”
“...Not outright,” Eric allowed, “but I think she just couldn’t deny her attraction to me any longer.”
“Sure,” Liam agreed grimly.
crack!
He’d have to go down to Lima, and see if Rachel Berry was telling the truth about wanting to go out with Eric.
Because if she wasn’t...
Well, Liam wasn’t a violent person, but...
He hit the next baseball with a glare.
crack!
“Was it supposed to do that?” Eric blinked, looking at where the baseball had slammed into the other end of the batting cage with a bit too much force.
If Rachel Berry was messing with Eric, then...
Well, Liam would just have to fix that.
---
"You're taking me out," Ben slipped into the seat opposite Seb, smiling at him.
"Yeah, I heard," Seb closed his book, pointing at the blond with its spine, "you're very observant. Thirty points to Gryffindor."
"Why thank you. I'll treasure them."
"As you should. You want to win the house cup, don't you?"
"I can't let the Slytherins win," Ben agreed, nodding, "they'd be unbearable."
"So I'm taking you out," Seb grinned, and Ben nodded, running a hand through his hair.
"I'm terrible at dating, just so you know in advance."
"What if I promise to do all the incredibly awkward first date conversation?"
Ben raised an eyebrow, "I don't see how that will work."
"I'll just ask you lots of random questions. Like your favourite colour, and your childhood pet's middle name."
"Pets have middle names?" Ben asked, resting his chin on one hand, and Seb grinned, leaning across the table.
"Of course, Benjamin. How else are you supposed to fit all the names you wanted?"
"So that would make the cat I had when I was twelve Alfred Middle Name Green?" Ben asked, and Seb nodded solemnly.
"Alfred Fightmaster Green. Of course."
"Of course," Ben nodded, and the lunch bell rang, "Um. You don't have to, but would you perhaps like to get lunch with me?"
"I'd love too." Seb agreed, grinning, "But this doesn't count as the date, okay?"
"I suppose? You're so fussy, you yanks."
"Benjamin, really. I'm from the South. Yanks are from the North," Seb explained, grabbing his book bag, and Ben rolled his eyes.
"Yanks are from America.You are from America. Therefore, yank. So, where are you taking me for our date, then?"
"How about to lunch this Saturday? I know a place that does awesome fries-"
"Chips, you mean."
"FRIES. I will take you there, and you will love it, and then you will love me, and I'll get to take you on another date."
Ben grinned, "Fool proof plan."
"I thought so. Fifteen points to Gryffindor for recognising my genius."
---
“Let’s have sex!” Jim exclaimed brightly, slamming Gary’s door open.
The dark haired teenager looked up from a pile of source books, blinking at the sudden interruption.
“Shirt, off! Pants, off! Sex, now!”
“...Jim, I have Econ in twenty minutes, and a campaign to plan before this Saturday.”
Jim rolled his eyes, yanking his tie off and dropping his blazer over the back of Gary’s desk chair, “And I have a burning need to give you a blowjob. Did you have a point?”
Gary looked at his books thoughtfully, then at where Jim was now down to just his pants, and was unbuckling his belt.
“...Not really.”
“Fantastic. Now get naked and get on the bed.”
In Jim’s bag, his phone still displayed Lee’s last text message.
Ruari woke up. I don’t know if I’m coming back.
---
“Guys, we have a problem,” Gary said, curly hair ruffled and lips bruised.
“For the last time, Gary, a shortage of Mountain Dew is not a ‘problem’,” Kevin drawled, feet up on his desk as he flipped to the next page of his comic.
“He’s right,” Harry agreed, looking up from the maths textbook he was sharing with Pratik, “your fly’s undone, by the way.”
Gary rolled his eyes, tucking his shirt in and zipping up his pants, “No, not that. Although it would be a problem. No, Wes is sick.”
“Oh shit.”
Pratik’s eyes widened.
Kevin’s chair fell backwards, spilling him onto the navy carpet.
Harry slammed the textbook closed.
Liam missed his hackeysack, knee still in the air, leaving the ball to roll under the Make-Out Couch.
Eric fell off the book shelf.
Ben blinked, “...Why is everyone panicking?”
“Because a sick Wes is an unbearable Wes,” Harry explained, “does anyone know where David is?”
“We need blankets!” Kevin announced, standing up and brushing off the back of his trousers, “Eric, go bring David back here-”
“What if I don’t want to-”
“Remember when Wes had flu?” Liam reminded the ginger grimly.
“...I’ll just go get David,” Eric said, going pale, and dived into an air vent.
“Liam! Go find the Cowboy Bebop DVDs!”
Liam nodded, saluting the hall monitor as he ran for the door.
“Harry, Pratik!”
“Yeah?” Harry asked, already packing up their books.
“Hot tea! And take the English kid, too!”
“My name’s Ben,” Ben raised an eyebrow, sliding his copy of The Catcher in the Rye back into his blazer.
“Whatever, English kid. Go help them make tea,” Kevin brushed him off, and Ben sighed.
“Oh, and Steve?”
“Yeah?” Steve grinned brilliantly.
“Stop fist pumping. This is not a fist pump appropriate moment.”
Kevin sat back down and opened his comic book, swinging his feet back up onto the desk as the other Keiran boys ran around trying to organise the common room.
“And what are you going to do?” Gary asked quietly, straightening his tie.
“Supervise,” Kevin said calmly.
“Perks of the job, I suppose,” Gary nodded, and Kevin smiled.
“Damn it feels good to be a prefect.”
“I found David!” Eric burst back into the common room, dragging the other teenager by his tie, “I only had to incapacitate two other Advisory Committee members, too!”
“Good job, Eric,” Liam smiled, and the other boy sniffed, jumping up and sitting on the table.
“...So, why was I pulled out of an AC meeting?” David asked curiously, watching the others run around like something was on fire.
Kevin lowered his comic dramatically, “Wes is sick.”
“Oh, fuck.”
---
“Look, if you’d just talk to someone,” Kurt hissed into Pratik’s ear, and the other boy shook his head stubbornly, opening the door to the maths room.
“Pratik, you won’t...lose face or anything. There is absolutely nothing wrong with reporting bullying!”
“Bullying, you say?”
A smooth voice cut in, and Kurt whirled round, coming face to face with Bradley, who smirked.
“Well, that’s interesting, because according to the rules here at Dalton, there is an absolute zero tolerance policy for bullying. You know of an incidence?” Bradley’s eyes widened theatrically, “Didn’t you know that concealing information like that makes you an accessory, and you could be reported yourself at risk of demerit, detention, or even suspension?”
Kurt raised an eyebrow, “Did you swallow the student handbook, Bradley?”
“No, I simply read it. I know there are some long words in it, but really, it’s got some important information in it.”
“I’m sure you slaved away over it with your dictionary for hours,” Kurt smiled icily, and Bradley’s eyes widened, this time in real shock, “come on, Pratik, let’s sit down.”
Pratik, who had been looking between Kurt and Bradley like an observer at Wimbledon, followed him obediently, looking back at where the blond stood, glaring at Kurt’s back.
“Seriously, Pratik, you need to report him,” Kurt repeated, sliding into his seat, but the other boy just shook his head.
“Alright, class! Settle down!” Mr. Jackson appeared, as was his wont, ten minutes late but impeccably dressed. Today, he wore a dark green sports coat that made Kurt's mouth water, paired with dark slacks and a perfectly asymmetrical button up shirt.
"When I grow up, I want to have his wardrobe," Kurt said dreamily, and Pratik half-smiled.
"I'd prefer h-his brain."
"Yours is fine as it is," Kurt informed him, and started to copy down the notes on the board. Pratik, who was already earnestly mis-copying an equation, shook his head slightly.
"...I-it isn't. But thank you."
Kurt nudged him lightly, "It's x bar comma y bar, not xy bar, Pratik."
Pratik sighed, scratching out his mistake and rewriting the equation, "Oh, if only I had a brain."
"And I've said-"
"There's no point in denying it, Hummel," Bradley leaned back from his place at the desk in front of them, grinning, "even he knows it. He's a complete idiot, aren't you, Kapoor?"
Pratik dropped his pen.
"Bradley, eyes front, please!"
"Sorry, sir!" Bradley chirped, turning back around and smiling at Mr. Jackson, who smiled back and shook his head affectionately.
"While I'm sure talking to your friends is far more interesting than math, I'll have to ask you to let me bore you for the next hour. And Pratik, I'm very disappointed, you know you need to pay closer attention than that."
Pratik slid down in his seat, cheeks red.
"Y-yes, sir."
"Good. So, on to the next step!" Mr Jackson turned back to the board, still smiling amiably.
Kurt leaned down and picked up the pen, pressing it back into Pratik's hand.
"Th-thanks."
"You need to report him," Kurt repeated, and Pratik ducked his head, beginning to write again.
---
“How are you feeling, Wes-ster?”
Wes groaned, snuggling down under the blankets and burying his head more deeply in David’s lap.
“That good, huh?”
“Yeah. That good,” Wes managed, and David continued to soothingly run his fingers through Wes’ hair.
“Before you ask, I’m not helping you commit seppuku.”
“Dream crusher,” Wes croaked, and David nodded.
“More Bebop?”
“More Bebop,” Wes agreed, and the pair settled down to watch Spike Spiegel kick ass and take names.
In space.
The only way it could be better is if he was also a ninja.
---
Meanwhile, in the Hallman dorms, everything was quiet.
Mostly.
“So, sweet thing, what are you wearing?” Jim asked idly, walking his feet up the wall.
“Jim! What the fuck?”
“I’m boooooored. Entertain me, peon,” Jim instructed his phone, kicking off the wall and turning a cartwheel before landing on the carpet, sitting crosslegged.
“...Shirt. Tie. Black jeans, fucking leather jacket.”
“Shirt and tie? How very formal of you, love. Why?” Jim looked at his phone with rekindled curiosity, and Lee sighed.
“I’m going to my fucking brother’s goddamn school. My old one.”
“The one where you burned down the gym and everyone hates you?”
“The fucking same,” Lee agreed glumly, and Jim grinned.
“Well, that sounds intriguing. How is your brother, by the way?”
“Getting better,” Lee sounded a bit happier, “they say he’ll be fine. Lots of fucking physio, of course, and the bastards are milking Dad for all the fucking money they can. And fucking power to them, the bastard practically is the Man.”
“The Man getting you down, dear?”
“Com-fucking-pletely. I do not fucking miss living here.”
“Well, come home, then,” Jim sighed, picking up his phone, “Tiki and Harry are pining terribly. Not me, of course, but they are simply inconsolable.”
“...Right. Of fucking course.”
“Well, must dash,” Jim said brightly, “lots of casual sex to have, not that much time to do it in!”
“Wait, Jim-”
Jim hung up quickly, tossing the phone under his bed, and stared at the ceiling blankly, thinking.
---
“I just think that it’s unreasonable,” Kurt explained, examining his nails closely, “and be more careful, you’re going to split the pelvis all wrong.”
Julian nodded, adjusting his grip on the scalpel, “That does suck...but your friend hasn’t complained, has he?”
“No,” Kurt sighed, watching Julian finish dissecting the kidney, “That’s the problem. If he doesn’t say anything, there’s nothing to be done, is there?”
Julian shrugged, dark hair falling in front of his eyes as he stripped off his rubber gloves.
“I don’t know. I’ve never been bullied, really. I mean, people ignore me, because I’m a bit weird, but I’ve never been bullied...”
“Well, it’s unacceptable. I’ll have to talk to someone about it.”
“Well, um, th-that guy in Keiran...the one who knows Krav Maga...”
“Wes?” Kurt guessed, and Julian nodded rapidly, hair flying everywhere.
“Yes. He’s on the student supervisory council. He might be able to help...”
“Good to know,” Kurt rapped his fingers on the lab desk, eyeing Julian thoughtfully.
“W-what?”
“You haven’t finished the diagrams.”
“Oh! Sorry, I’ll do that now!” Julian apologised, and Kurt pulled out an emery board, beginning to file his nails.
“You do that.”
---
“I just feel like he’s being taken advantage of,” Kurt murmured, watching Gary kiss Jim goodbye at the common room door.
Blaine shrugged, curling closer against his boyfriend, “from what I understand, Gary is the only person Jim can’t take advantage of.”
“Oh?” Kurt looked away from the couple, stroking Blaine’s wrist absently as he returned to looking at his latest copy of Vogue.
“They used to be together, after all. Gary was Jim’s first. He always goes running back when things get difficult for him,” Blaine said, lacing their fingers together and pulling Kurt’s hand up to kiss the back of it.
“It’s just strange to see,” Kurt said, and sighed lightly, “but I guess there are bigger problems at Dalton than Gary’s strange blindness to Jim’s general terrible disposition.”
“What’s that?” Blaine frowned slightly, sitting up, and Kurt squeezed his hand.
“Just that Dalton’s supposed ‘No Tolerance’ bullying policy isn’t quite as effective as advertised.”
“Someone’s bullying you?” Blaine’s eyes widened, and he bolted upright, turning to look into Kurt’s eyes, “Who is it? I’ll- okay, I won’t hit them, because I don’t want to get expelled and I highly doubt I would be that effectual, but I’ll definitely report them! Or, or make their life difficult. The cafeteria ladies like me, I could totally get them to serve whoever it is really horrible food or something. Who is it, Kurt? I won’t let-”
“It’s not me, idiot,” Kurt rolled his eyes, smiling fondly as Blaine ranted.
“And then I’ll- oh. What are you talking about, then?”
“Do you know Bradley Morrigan?” Kurt asked, and Blaine nodded, frowning a little.
“He’s one of the triplets. Kind of an ass, really.”
“There are three of them?” Kurt looked as if he’d smelled something bad, “Doesn’t the world have any mercy?”
“Not when it comes to the Morrigans, unfortunately,” Blaine said with a charming smile, and Kurt sighed.
“Well, anyway. Bradley’s in my math class, and he’s been picking on Pratik.”
“That’s horrible. Has he been reported?” Blaine frowned slightly, concerned, and Kurt sighed again, shaking his head.
“Pratik’s too afraid to. At least, I think it’s fear...he won’t say anything, anyway.”
“Have you tried talking to Wes? He’s on the student supervisory council, after all.”
“That’s what Julian said,” Kurt sighed slightly, “but what does that even mean?”
“Basically, Wes and the rest of the council are able to bring this kind of thing to the attention of the administration if a student isn’t reporting a bully.”
Kurt frowned, a spark lighting in his eye, and stood up.
“I’ll be right back, Blaine.”
Blaine shrugged, picking up his physics text book from the floor.
“Please don’t kill my best friends.”
“Oh, I won’t kill them. Just a little light maiming,” Kurt told him, stalking towards the exit.
“Woo!”
“Steve, please don’t celebrate the possible death of my best friends,” Blaine said tiredly, and the other teenager stopped fistpumping.
“Sorry, Blaine.”
“No problem, Steve.”
---
“How do I look?” Liam asked, spinning on his heel so Eric could see what he was wearing.
“Like Liam Van Shriek. Why, are you trying to look different?” asked the ginger, frowning slightly from his perch on top of Liam’s desk.
“No, not at all. Just going to see an old friend, and I wanted to look nice. It’s not like I’m used to wearing anything other than uniform.”
“...But you’re wearing a baseball jersey,” Eric raised an eyebrow, “that is a uniform, Liam.”
“Right. I was more just asking if I looked stupid.”
“You always look stupid,” Eric said bluntly.
“Thanks, Eric.”
“...If it helps, you don’t look any more stupid than normal?”
Liam grinned, pulling on a ball cap, “That does help.”
“Have fun with your friend, I suppose. I didn’t know you had friends.”
“You’re really bad at this whole ‘talking like a human’ thing, aren’t you?” Liam asked, putting on his coat, and Eric shrugged.
“I see no point in practicing it. I’m talented enough that I don’t need to. And if I do ever need it, that’s what I keep you for.”
“I’m your human translator?”
“Precisely,” Eric nodded, “but your skills aren’t needed tonight, so have fun on your date.”
“It’s not a date! I’m just catching up with a friend.”
“You can go now, I’m bored of talking to you about your date,” Eric noted, climbing up to the air vent access over Harry’s bed.
“It’s not a date!”
---
"Wesley!"
Wes flinched, hiding behind David, "Davey, save me!"
David whirled round, arms raised in a vaguely karate-ish pose. Kurt looked at him, completely unimpressed.
"Out of the way, David, I want to talk to Wes."
"He's sick, Kurt, you can't kill an invalid. It's not sporting!"
"Yeah!" Wes agreed, still hiding, "I can't run away properly!"
Kurt sighed, "I'm not going to kill you, Wes."
"...Then why did you use my full name?" Wes poked his head out from behind David, frowning suspiciously.
"Because it was the only way to get your attention. I called you like, five times," Kurt rolled his eyes, shifting the weight of his satchel, and Wes moved out from behind his friend slowly.
"I'm sick."
"So what, you went deaf?"
Wes' eyes widened, "I'm sick, Kurt. Don't pick on me."
"So, I hear you're part of the student supervisory council?"
"Not by choice," Wes replied immediately, and David patted him on the head, trying to soothe him, "who told you?"
"Julian. From Hallman?"
"Neat freak Julian?"
Kurt nodded, "Yeah. He says the council has a say in bullying and reporting bullies?"
"I will sneak into his room and unalphabetise his books, I swear," Wes murmured, and David's soothing petting speeded up a little, "yes. Technically, yes."
"So technically, you could have reported Bradley?"
"Well..."
"And you haven't?" A dangerous spark appeared in Kurt's eyes, and Wes swallowed.
"Well...not really?"
"Why not?" Kurt bit out, crossing his arms, "What possible rationale do you have?"
"I can't do anything unless the victim or three eyewitnesses report him?" Wes sneezed, looking miserable, and David began to stroke the back of his neck, "Otherwise, it's not a 'suitable' incident."
"A suitable incident?"
Wes blinked, dazed, and David finally took pity, talking for him.
"The council is really...stuck up. Wes is only on it for the Service hours. They have a rule book the size of a desk, and nothing gets done in their meetings anyway."
"So Pratik needs to report Bradley, or nothing will get done?" Kurt asked, and David nodded.
"Pretty much. It doesn't help that Bradley's brothers are both on the council too."
"Neoptism? In high school? How very upper class of you," Kurt said dryly, and David frowned.
"Look, Kurt, I get that you're frustrated, but Wes is sick, and he seriously cannot do anything."
"But-"
"No. Get a confession, or get Pratik to report him, or find three eyewitnesses willing to speak up. Until then, he can't do anything. I'm sorry."
---
“And as for your little band...How pathetic. You call that music?”
Pratik’s hand tightened on his pencil.
“Speak up, Kapoor, you’re speaking too quietly,” Bradley smirked, arms crossed.
“I-I didn’t say anything...”
“So you agree with me, then?”
“Pratik...” Kurt glared at Bradley, “you don’t have to say anything. He’s being an idiot.”
Pratik carefully put down his pencil, closed his notebook, and stood up.
“...What are you doing?” Bradley blinked, and Pratik didn’t reply, slipping around the desk to stand face to face with the blond, pushing up onto his tiptoes and poking Bradley in the chest.
The blond took a breath, ready to speak, but Pratik held up a hand, eyes dark and angry.
“Who cares if you disagree? You are not me. Who made you king of anything? You dare tell me who to be? Who died, and made you king of anything?”
“Oh no, not vaguely irritated lyrics,” Bradley rolled his eyes, looking strangely relieved, and Pratik huffed out an annoyed breath.
“Kurt?” Pratik asked softly, not looking away from Bradley.
“Yes, Pratik?”
The Indian boy turned on his heel, heading for the door.
“Would you come to the councillor’s office with me? I have an incident to report.”
---
“Hey Tina,” Liam grinned, pulling his childhood friend into a hug.
“Hey, careful of my dress, you giant!” Tina swatted him affectionately, bouncing up onto her toes and kissing Liam on the cheek.
“It’s been a while, huh?”
“Two years? Yeah, I’d say so,” Liam said, offering her a smile he’d copied from Blaine’s arsenal.
“So, what’s the deal? Why did you suddenly decide for a reunion?” Tina asked, taking a seat at one of the long trestle tables.
“Rachel Berry,” Liam said grimly.
“What about her?”
“Why is she interested in Eric?”
Tina swallowed, straightening her fork, and prepared to lie to her childhood friend.
---
bzzt!
Would Bradley Morrigan please come to Dr. Kadzower’s office? Bradley Morrigan to the vice-principal’s office.
---
“It’s generally considered bad manners to stand someone up on the first date,” Ben said quietly, dropping into the seat next to Seb, “but I’ll let it go.”
Seb smiled shakily, rubbing the knees of his pants nervously, “Thanks. But you don’t even like Bradley. Why do you care?”
“I may not like him,” Ben nodded, “but that’s more because he picks on my friends. Well, acquaintances. You know what I mean.”
“I do,” Seb nodded, “So, why are you here, if you don’t care?”
“Because I found out- and the gossip chain is really very effective- that you’re not planning on leaving before you find out what’s happening with him.”
Seb frowned slightly, “So?”
Ben smiled slightly, picking up his bag, “Fifteen points from Hufflepuff for being obtuse.”
“What?”
Seb blinked.
“Obviously, if you can’t come for a date with me, the date and I will have to come to you,” Ben explained, unzipping his bag and passing Seb a bottle of flavoured milk, tapping his own against it, “cheers.”
“...Cheers,” Seb agreed, cracking the top and taking a sip.
“So, shall we have some awkward first date conversation?” Ben asked, opening a packet of crisps and offering them to the other boy.
“That sounds awesome,” Seb smiled, taking a handful, “so, what’s your favourite colour?”
“Green. You?”
“Red,” Seb said, taking another sip of milk, “and just so you know, I prefer strawberry milk.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” Ben ducked his head, smiling.
“...So, that means there’ll be a next time?” Seb asked, peeling at the label on his bottle.
“I don’t know. You kind of suck at awkward first date conversation.”
“Fine, fine. How about I ask you something that unknowingly hits a sore spot on you, and you throw your smokey barbecue chips in my face and walk out on me?”
“Well...” Ben eyed his crisps thoughtfully, “I really like smokey barbecue crisps-”
“Chips, Ben, you’re in America!”
“My crispy crispy crisps that I adore, so how about I don’t and we pretend I did?”
Seb grinned, mock-flinching, “Argh! An imaginary crisp, right in the eye!”
Ben smirked, “If you like, I’ll kiss it better.”
“What, my eye?”
“Well, I was thinking of kissing you on the lips, and seeing if that had any effect.”
“I think that sounds like a great idea,” Seb agreed, leaning in, and Ben smiled, almost shyly, hand coming up to cup the other boy’s cheek.
“I don’t want to see you in here again, Bradley. You’re a good boy.”
“Yes, thank you, sir, it won’t happen again.”
The two boys broke apart, a hairs breadth from touching, and Bradley raised an eyebrow at them.
“I’m sorry, am I interrupting?”
“Bradley! Is everything okay?” Seb twisted to face his best friend, eyes wide and worried.
“Perfect. I’ve got a warning, though,” Bradley sneered, crossing his arms, “I’m on probation, apparently. In case I show a ‘problematic’ attitude.”
Ben stood up, slightly red, and began to pack up the rubbish from his and Seb’s lunch, “Well, I’m glad it’s all worked out. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you later, Seb.”
He shot Seb a shy smile- the Chilean boy beamed back at him- and left.
“So. You and the English kid, huh?” Bradley asked.
Seb grinned, running a hand through his hair, and stood up.
“An answer would be appreciated, Seb.”
They began to walk back towards the Hallman dorms, Seb still smiling dopily.
“Seriously, are you guys dating, or...?”
Seb just grinned.
Author: infraredphaeton
Summary: Kurt has a problem with bullies. Mainly that they exist. Pratik has a problem with bullies. Mainly that they keep bullying him.
Warnings: Eric, language (Lee), sexual situations (gay), OCs
A/N: Sorry this took so long, guys!
---
Liam Van Shriek was not a judgemental person. Or at least, he tried not to be.
As a guy who played sports, he was used to being put into a certain stereotypical mould, and he’d always despised being judged on his looks (handsome, tall, muscled- immediate decision: dumb jock).
Still, he thought, hitting the baseball with a solid crack and sending it flying, it was hard not to judge what he was hearing.
“So she said we’ll go see the performance of A Chorus Line being done at the community theatre in Lima. She’s performed there a lot of times, too,” Eric continued, perching on top of one of the benches as Liam continued his batting practice.
“That’s great, Eric.”
“She said she’s really looking forward to it. Which I can understand, of course, what with it being me who she’s going out with,” Eric grinned fiercely, running a hand through his messy ginger hair, “so I’m going to take her out for dinner, too.”
“You’re going to eat dinner?” Liam asked, hitting the next ball even harder.
crack!
“Well, it wouldn’t exactly work if I took her out for dinner and then didn’t eat,” Eric said, rolling his eyes, “try to keep up, Liam.”
“So, where are you taking her?” Liam darted a look at Eric, who was now dangling upside down from a balance bar.
“Some vegan place. She suggested it, and I, being the gracious man that I am, agreed.”
crack!
“Did she say why she broke up with her boyfriend?”
“...Not outright,” Eric allowed, “but I think she just couldn’t deny her attraction to me any longer.”
“Sure,” Liam agreed grimly.
crack!
He’d have to go down to Lima, and see if Rachel Berry was telling the truth about wanting to go out with Eric.
Because if she wasn’t...
Well, Liam wasn’t a violent person, but...
He hit the next baseball with a glare.
crack!
“Was it supposed to do that?” Eric blinked, looking at where the baseball had slammed into the other end of the batting cage with a bit too much force.
If Rachel Berry was messing with Eric, then...
Well, Liam would just have to fix that.
---
"You're taking me out," Ben slipped into the seat opposite Seb, smiling at him.
"Yeah, I heard," Seb closed his book, pointing at the blond with its spine, "you're very observant. Thirty points to Gryffindor."
"Why thank you. I'll treasure them."
"As you should. You want to win the house cup, don't you?"
"I can't let the Slytherins win," Ben agreed, nodding, "they'd be unbearable."
"So I'm taking you out," Seb grinned, and Ben nodded, running a hand through his hair.
"I'm terrible at dating, just so you know in advance."
"What if I promise to do all the incredibly awkward first date conversation?"
Ben raised an eyebrow, "I don't see how that will work."
"I'll just ask you lots of random questions. Like your favourite colour, and your childhood pet's middle name."
"Pets have middle names?" Ben asked, resting his chin on one hand, and Seb grinned, leaning across the table.
"Of course, Benjamin. How else are you supposed to fit all the names you wanted?"
"So that would make the cat I had when I was twelve Alfred Middle Name Green?" Ben asked, and Seb nodded solemnly.
"Alfred Fightmaster Green. Of course."
"Of course," Ben nodded, and the lunch bell rang, "Um. You don't have to, but would you perhaps like to get lunch with me?"
"I'd love too." Seb agreed, grinning, "But this doesn't count as the date, okay?"
"I suppose? You're so fussy, you yanks."
"Benjamin, really. I'm from the South. Yanks are from the North," Seb explained, grabbing his book bag, and Ben rolled his eyes.
"Yanks are from America.You are from America. Therefore, yank. So, where are you taking me for our date, then?"
"How about to lunch this Saturday? I know a place that does awesome fries-"
"Chips, you mean."
"FRIES. I will take you there, and you will love it, and then you will love me, and I'll get to take you on another date."
Ben grinned, "Fool proof plan."
"I thought so. Fifteen points to Gryffindor for recognising my genius."
---
“Let’s have sex!” Jim exclaimed brightly, slamming Gary’s door open.
The dark haired teenager looked up from a pile of source books, blinking at the sudden interruption.
“Shirt, off! Pants, off! Sex, now!”
“...Jim, I have Econ in twenty minutes, and a campaign to plan before this Saturday.”
Jim rolled his eyes, yanking his tie off and dropping his blazer over the back of Gary’s desk chair, “And I have a burning need to give you a blowjob. Did you have a point?”
Gary looked at his books thoughtfully, then at where Jim was now down to just his pants, and was unbuckling his belt.
“...Not really.”
“Fantastic. Now get naked and get on the bed.”
In Jim’s bag, his phone still displayed Lee’s last text message.
Ruari woke up. I don’t know if I’m coming back.
---
“Guys, we have a problem,” Gary said, curly hair ruffled and lips bruised.
“For the last time, Gary, a shortage of Mountain Dew is not a ‘problem’,” Kevin drawled, feet up on his desk as he flipped to the next page of his comic.
“He’s right,” Harry agreed, looking up from the maths textbook he was sharing with Pratik, “your fly’s undone, by the way.”
Gary rolled his eyes, tucking his shirt in and zipping up his pants, “No, not that. Although it would be a problem. No, Wes is sick.”
“Oh shit.”
Pratik’s eyes widened.
Kevin’s chair fell backwards, spilling him onto the navy carpet.
Harry slammed the textbook closed.
Liam missed his hackeysack, knee still in the air, leaving the ball to roll under the Make-Out Couch.
Eric fell off the book shelf.
Ben blinked, “...Why is everyone panicking?”
“Because a sick Wes is an unbearable Wes,” Harry explained, “does anyone know where David is?”
“We need blankets!” Kevin announced, standing up and brushing off the back of his trousers, “Eric, go bring David back here-”
“What if I don’t want to-”
“Remember when Wes had flu?” Liam reminded the ginger grimly.
“...I’ll just go get David,” Eric said, going pale, and dived into an air vent.
“Liam! Go find the Cowboy Bebop DVDs!”
Liam nodded, saluting the hall monitor as he ran for the door.
“Harry, Pratik!”
“Yeah?” Harry asked, already packing up their books.
“Hot tea! And take the English kid, too!”
“My name’s Ben,” Ben raised an eyebrow, sliding his copy of The Catcher in the Rye back into his blazer.
“Whatever, English kid. Go help them make tea,” Kevin brushed him off, and Ben sighed.
“Oh, and Steve?”
“Yeah?” Steve grinned brilliantly.
“Stop fist pumping. This is not a fist pump appropriate moment.”
Kevin sat back down and opened his comic book, swinging his feet back up onto the desk as the other Keiran boys ran around trying to organise the common room.
“And what are you going to do?” Gary asked quietly, straightening his tie.
“Supervise,” Kevin said calmly.
“Perks of the job, I suppose,” Gary nodded, and Kevin smiled.
“Damn it feels good to be a prefect.”
“I found David!” Eric burst back into the common room, dragging the other teenager by his tie, “I only had to incapacitate two other Advisory Committee members, too!”
“Good job, Eric,” Liam smiled, and the other boy sniffed, jumping up and sitting on the table.
“...So, why was I pulled out of an AC meeting?” David asked curiously, watching the others run around like something was on fire.
Kevin lowered his comic dramatically, “Wes is sick.”
“Oh, fuck.”
---
“Look, if you’d just talk to someone,” Kurt hissed into Pratik’s ear, and the other boy shook his head stubbornly, opening the door to the maths room.
“Pratik, you won’t...lose face or anything. There is absolutely nothing wrong with reporting bullying!”
“Bullying, you say?”
A smooth voice cut in, and Kurt whirled round, coming face to face with Bradley, who smirked.
“Well, that’s interesting, because according to the rules here at Dalton, there is an absolute zero tolerance policy for bullying. You know of an incidence?” Bradley’s eyes widened theatrically, “Didn’t you know that concealing information like that makes you an accessory, and you could be reported yourself at risk of demerit, detention, or even suspension?”
Kurt raised an eyebrow, “Did you swallow the student handbook, Bradley?”
“No, I simply read it. I know there are some long words in it, but really, it’s got some important information in it.”
“I’m sure you slaved away over it with your dictionary for hours,” Kurt smiled icily, and Bradley’s eyes widened, this time in real shock, “come on, Pratik, let’s sit down.”
Pratik, who had been looking between Kurt and Bradley like an observer at Wimbledon, followed him obediently, looking back at where the blond stood, glaring at Kurt’s back.
“Seriously, Pratik, you need to report him,” Kurt repeated, sliding into his seat, but the other boy just shook his head.
“Alright, class! Settle down!” Mr. Jackson appeared, as was his wont, ten minutes late but impeccably dressed. Today, he wore a dark green sports coat that made Kurt's mouth water, paired with dark slacks and a perfectly asymmetrical button up shirt.
"When I grow up, I want to have his wardrobe," Kurt said dreamily, and Pratik half-smiled.
"I'd prefer h-his brain."
"Yours is fine as it is," Kurt informed him, and started to copy down the notes on the board. Pratik, who was already earnestly mis-copying an equation, shook his head slightly.
"...I-it isn't. But thank you."
Kurt nudged him lightly, "It's x bar comma y bar, not xy bar, Pratik."
Pratik sighed, scratching out his mistake and rewriting the equation, "Oh, if only I had a brain."
"And I've said-"
"There's no point in denying it, Hummel," Bradley leaned back from his place at the desk in front of them, grinning, "even he knows it. He's a complete idiot, aren't you, Kapoor?"
Pratik dropped his pen.
"Bradley, eyes front, please!"
"Sorry, sir!" Bradley chirped, turning back around and smiling at Mr. Jackson, who smiled back and shook his head affectionately.
"While I'm sure talking to your friends is far more interesting than math, I'll have to ask you to let me bore you for the next hour. And Pratik, I'm very disappointed, you know you need to pay closer attention than that."
Pratik slid down in his seat, cheeks red.
"Y-yes, sir."
"Good. So, on to the next step!" Mr Jackson turned back to the board, still smiling amiably.
Kurt leaned down and picked up the pen, pressing it back into Pratik's hand.
"Th-thanks."
"You need to report him," Kurt repeated, and Pratik ducked his head, beginning to write again.
---
“How are you feeling, Wes-ster?”
Wes groaned, snuggling down under the blankets and burying his head more deeply in David’s lap.
“That good, huh?”
“Yeah. That good,” Wes managed, and David continued to soothingly run his fingers through Wes’ hair.
“Before you ask, I’m not helping you commit seppuku.”
“Dream crusher,” Wes croaked, and David nodded.
“More Bebop?”
“More Bebop,” Wes agreed, and the pair settled down to watch Spike Spiegel kick ass and take names.
In space.
The only way it could be better is if he was also a ninja.
---
Meanwhile, in the Hallman dorms, everything was quiet.
Mostly.
“So, sweet thing, what are you wearing?” Jim asked idly, walking his feet up the wall.
“Jim! What the fuck?”
“I’m boooooored. Entertain me, peon,” Jim instructed his phone, kicking off the wall and turning a cartwheel before landing on the carpet, sitting crosslegged.
“...Shirt. Tie. Black jeans, fucking leather jacket.”
“Shirt and tie? How very formal of you, love. Why?” Jim looked at his phone with rekindled curiosity, and Lee sighed.
“I’m going to my fucking brother’s goddamn school. My old one.”
“The one where you burned down the gym and everyone hates you?”
“The fucking same,” Lee agreed glumly, and Jim grinned.
“Well, that sounds intriguing. How is your brother, by the way?”
“Getting better,” Lee sounded a bit happier, “they say he’ll be fine. Lots of fucking physio, of course, and the bastards are milking Dad for all the fucking money they can. And fucking power to them, the bastard practically is the Man.”
“The Man getting you down, dear?”
“Com-fucking-pletely. I do not fucking miss living here.”
“Well, come home, then,” Jim sighed, picking up his phone, “Tiki and Harry are pining terribly. Not me, of course, but they are simply inconsolable.”
“...Right. Of fucking course.”
“Well, must dash,” Jim said brightly, “lots of casual sex to have, not that much time to do it in!”
“Wait, Jim-”
Jim hung up quickly, tossing the phone under his bed, and stared at the ceiling blankly, thinking.
---
“I just think that it’s unreasonable,” Kurt explained, examining his nails closely, “and be more careful, you’re going to split the pelvis all wrong.”
Julian nodded, adjusting his grip on the scalpel, “That does suck...but your friend hasn’t complained, has he?”
“No,” Kurt sighed, watching Julian finish dissecting the kidney, “That’s the problem. If he doesn’t say anything, there’s nothing to be done, is there?”
Julian shrugged, dark hair falling in front of his eyes as he stripped off his rubber gloves.
“I don’t know. I’ve never been bullied, really. I mean, people ignore me, because I’m a bit weird, but I’ve never been bullied...”
“Well, it’s unacceptable. I’ll have to talk to someone about it.”
“Well, um, th-that guy in Keiran...the one who knows Krav Maga...”
“Wes?” Kurt guessed, and Julian nodded rapidly, hair flying everywhere.
“Yes. He’s on the student supervisory council. He might be able to help...”
“Good to know,” Kurt rapped his fingers on the lab desk, eyeing Julian thoughtfully.
“W-what?”
“You haven’t finished the diagrams.”
“Oh! Sorry, I’ll do that now!” Julian apologised, and Kurt pulled out an emery board, beginning to file his nails.
“You do that.”
---
“I just feel like he’s being taken advantage of,” Kurt murmured, watching Gary kiss Jim goodbye at the common room door.
Blaine shrugged, curling closer against his boyfriend, “from what I understand, Gary is the only person Jim can’t take advantage of.”
“Oh?” Kurt looked away from the couple, stroking Blaine’s wrist absently as he returned to looking at his latest copy of Vogue.
“They used to be together, after all. Gary was Jim’s first. He always goes running back when things get difficult for him,” Blaine said, lacing their fingers together and pulling Kurt’s hand up to kiss the back of it.
“It’s just strange to see,” Kurt said, and sighed lightly, “but I guess there are bigger problems at Dalton than Gary’s strange blindness to Jim’s general terrible disposition.”
“What’s that?” Blaine frowned slightly, sitting up, and Kurt squeezed his hand.
“Just that Dalton’s supposed ‘No Tolerance’ bullying policy isn’t quite as effective as advertised.”
“Someone’s bullying you?” Blaine’s eyes widened, and he bolted upright, turning to look into Kurt’s eyes, “Who is it? I’ll- okay, I won’t hit them, because I don’t want to get expelled and I highly doubt I would be that effectual, but I’ll definitely report them! Or, or make their life difficult. The cafeteria ladies like me, I could totally get them to serve whoever it is really horrible food or something. Who is it, Kurt? I won’t let-”
“It’s not me, idiot,” Kurt rolled his eyes, smiling fondly as Blaine ranted.
“And then I’ll- oh. What are you talking about, then?”
“Do you know Bradley Morrigan?” Kurt asked, and Blaine nodded, frowning a little.
“He’s one of the triplets. Kind of an ass, really.”
“There are three of them?” Kurt looked as if he’d smelled something bad, “Doesn’t the world have any mercy?”
“Not when it comes to the Morrigans, unfortunately,” Blaine said with a charming smile, and Kurt sighed.
“Well, anyway. Bradley’s in my math class, and he’s been picking on Pratik.”
“That’s horrible. Has he been reported?” Blaine frowned slightly, concerned, and Kurt sighed again, shaking his head.
“Pratik’s too afraid to. At least, I think it’s fear...he won’t say anything, anyway.”
“Have you tried talking to Wes? He’s on the student supervisory council, after all.”
“That’s what Julian said,” Kurt sighed slightly, “but what does that even mean?”
“Basically, Wes and the rest of the council are able to bring this kind of thing to the attention of the administration if a student isn’t reporting a bully.”
Kurt frowned, a spark lighting in his eye, and stood up.
“I’ll be right back, Blaine.”
Blaine shrugged, picking up his physics text book from the floor.
“Please don’t kill my best friends.”
“Oh, I won’t kill them. Just a little light maiming,” Kurt told him, stalking towards the exit.
“Woo!”
“Steve, please don’t celebrate the possible death of my best friends,” Blaine said tiredly, and the other teenager stopped fistpumping.
“Sorry, Blaine.”
“No problem, Steve.”
---
“How do I look?” Liam asked, spinning on his heel so Eric could see what he was wearing.
“Like Liam Van Shriek. Why, are you trying to look different?” asked the ginger, frowning slightly from his perch on top of Liam’s desk.
“No, not at all. Just going to see an old friend, and I wanted to look nice. It’s not like I’m used to wearing anything other than uniform.”
“...But you’re wearing a baseball jersey,” Eric raised an eyebrow, “that is a uniform, Liam.”
“Right. I was more just asking if I looked stupid.”
“You always look stupid,” Eric said bluntly.
“Thanks, Eric.”
“...If it helps, you don’t look any more stupid than normal?”
Liam grinned, pulling on a ball cap, “That does help.”
“Have fun with your friend, I suppose. I didn’t know you had friends.”
“You’re really bad at this whole ‘talking like a human’ thing, aren’t you?” Liam asked, putting on his coat, and Eric shrugged.
“I see no point in practicing it. I’m talented enough that I don’t need to. And if I do ever need it, that’s what I keep you for.”
“I’m your human translator?”
“Precisely,” Eric nodded, “but your skills aren’t needed tonight, so have fun on your date.”
“It’s not a date! I’m just catching up with a friend.”
“You can go now, I’m bored of talking to you about your date,” Eric noted, climbing up to the air vent access over Harry’s bed.
“It’s not a date!”
---
"Wesley!"
Wes flinched, hiding behind David, "Davey, save me!"
David whirled round, arms raised in a vaguely karate-ish pose. Kurt looked at him, completely unimpressed.
"Out of the way, David, I want to talk to Wes."
"He's sick, Kurt, you can't kill an invalid. It's not sporting!"
"Yeah!" Wes agreed, still hiding, "I can't run away properly!"
Kurt sighed, "I'm not going to kill you, Wes."
"...Then why did you use my full name?" Wes poked his head out from behind David, frowning suspiciously.
"Because it was the only way to get your attention. I called you like, five times," Kurt rolled his eyes, shifting the weight of his satchel, and Wes moved out from behind his friend slowly.
"I'm sick."
"So what, you went deaf?"
Wes' eyes widened, "I'm sick, Kurt. Don't pick on me."
"So, I hear you're part of the student supervisory council?"
"Not by choice," Wes replied immediately, and David patted him on the head, trying to soothe him, "who told you?"
"Julian. From Hallman?"
"Neat freak Julian?"
Kurt nodded, "Yeah. He says the council has a say in bullying and reporting bullies?"
"I will sneak into his room and unalphabetise his books, I swear," Wes murmured, and David's soothing petting speeded up a little, "yes. Technically, yes."
"So technically, you could have reported Bradley?"
"Well..."
"And you haven't?" A dangerous spark appeared in Kurt's eyes, and Wes swallowed.
"Well...not really?"
"Why not?" Kurt bit out, crossing his arms, "What possible rationale do you have?"
"I can't do anything unless the victim or three eyewitnesses report him?" Wes sneezed, looking miserable, and David began to stroke the back of his neck, "Otherwise, it's not a 'suitable' incident."
"A suitable incident?"
Wes blinked, dazed, and David finally took pity, talking for him.
"The council is really...stuck up. Wes is only on it for the Service hours. They have a rule book the size of a desk, and nothing gets done in their meetings anyway."
"So Pratik needs to report Bradley, or nothing will get done?" Kurt asked, and David nodded.
"Pretty much. It doesn't help that Bradley's brothers are both on the council too."
"Neoptism? In high school? How very upper class of you," Kurt said dryly, and David frowned.
"Look, Kurt, I get that you're frustrated, but Wes is sick, and he seriously cannot do anything."
"But-"
"No. Get a confession, or get Pratik to report him, or find three eyewitnesses willing to speak up. Until then, he can't do anything. I'm sorry."
---
“And as for your little band...How pathetic. You call that music?”
Pratik’s hand tightened on his pencil.
“Speak up, Kapoor, you’re speaking too quietly,” Bradley smirked, arms crossed.
“I-I didn’t say anything...”
“So you agree with me, then?”
“Pratik...” Kurt glared at Bradley, “you don’t have to say anything. He’s being an idiot.”
Pratik carefully put down his pencil, closed his notebook, and stood up.
“...What are you doing?” Bradley blinked, and Pratik didn’t reply, slipping around the desk to stand face to face with the blond, pushing up onto his tiptoes and poking Bradley in the chest.
The blond took a breath, ready to speak, but Pratik held up a hand, eyes dark and angry.
“Who cares if you disagree? You are not me. Who made you king of anything? You dare tell me who to be? Who died, and made you king of anything?”
“Oh no, not vaguely irritated lyrics,” Bradley rolled his eyes, looking strangely relieved, and Pratik huffed out an annoyed breath.
“Kurt?” Pratik asked softly, not looking away from Bradley.
“Yes, Pratik?”
The Indian boy turned on his heel, heading for the door.
“Would you come to the councillor’s office with me? I have an incident to report.”
---
“Hey Tina,” Liam grinned, pulling his childhood friend into a hug.
“Hey, careful of my dress, you giant!” Tina swatted him affectionately, bouncing up onto her toes and kissing Liam on the cheek.
“It’s been a while, huh?”
“Two years? Yeah, I’d say so,” Liam said, offering her a smile he’d copied from Blaine’s arsenal.
“So, what’s the deal? Why did you suddenly decide for a reunion?” Tina asked, taking a seat at one of the long trestle tables.
“Rachel Berry,” Liam said grimly.
“What about her?”
“Why is she interested in Eric?”
Tina swallowed, straightening her fork, and prepared to lie to her childhood friend.
---
bzzt!
Would Bradley Morrigan please come to Dr. Kadzower’s office? Bradley Morrigan to the vice-principal’s office.
---
“It’s generally considered bad manners to stand someone up on the first date,” Ben said quietly, dropping into the seat next to Seb, “but I’ll let it go.”
Seb smiled shakily, rubbing the knees of his pants nervously, “Thanks. But you don’t even like Bradley. Why do you care?”
“I may not like him,” Ben nodded, “but that’s more because he picks on my friends. Well, acquaintances. You know what I mean.”
“I do,” Seb nodded, “So, why are you here, if you don’t care?”
“Because I found out- and the gossip chain is really very effective- that you’re not planning on leaving before you find out what’s happening with him.”
Seb frowned slightly, “So?”
Ben smiled slightly, picking up his bag, “Fifteen points from Hufflepuff for being obtuse.”
“What?”
Seb blinked.
“Obviously, if you can’t come for a date with me, the date and I will have to come to you,” Ben explained, unzipping his bag and passing Seb a bottle of flavoured milk, tapping his own against it, “cheers.”
“...Cheers,” Seb agreed, cracking the top and taking a sip.
“So, shall we have some awkward first date conversation?” Ben asked, opening a packet of crisps and offering them to the other boy.
“That sounds awesome,” Seb smiled, taking a handful, “so, what’s your favourite colour?”
“Green. You?”
“Red,” Seb said, taking another sip of milk, “and just so you know, I prefer strawberry milk.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” Ben ducked his head, smiling.
“...So, that means there’ll be a next time?” Seb asked, peeling at the label on his bottle.
“I don’t know. You kind of suck at awkward first date conversation.”
“Fine, fine. How about I ask you something that unknowingly hits a sore spot on you, and you throw your smokey barbecue chips in my face and walk out on me?”
“Well...” Ben eyed his crisps thoughtfully, “I really like smokey barbecue crisps-”
“Chips, Ben, you’re in America!”
“My crispy crispy crisps that I adore, so how about I don’t and we pretend I did?”
Seb grinned, mock-flinching, “Argh! An imaginary crisp, right in the eye!”
Ben smirked, “If you like, I’ll kiss it better.”
“What, my eye?”
“Well, I was thinking of kissing you on the lips, and seeing if that had any effect.”
“I think that sounds like a great idea,” Seb agreed, leaning in, and Ben smiled, almost shyly, hand coming up to cup the other boy’s cheek.
“I don’t want to see you in here again, Bradley. You’re a good boy.”
“Yes, thank you, sir, it won’t happen again.”
The two boys broke apart, a hairs breadth from touching, and Bradley raised an eyebrow at them.
“I’m sorry, am I interrupting?”
“Bradley! Is everything okay?” Seb twisted to face his best friend, eyes wide and worried.
“Perfect. I’ve got a warning, though,” Bradley sneered, crossing his arms, “I’m on probation, apparently. In case I show a ‘problematic’ attitude.”
Ben stood up, slightly red, and began to pack up the rubbish from his and Seb’s lunch, “Well, I’m glad it’s all worked out. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you later, Seb.”
He shot Seb a shy smile- the Chilean boy beamed back at him- and left.
“So. You and the English kid, huh?” Bradley asked.
Seb grinned, running a hand through his hair, and stood up.
“An answer would be appreciated, Seb.”
They began to walk back towards the Hallman dorms, Seb still smiling dopily.
“Seriously, are you guys dating, or...?”
Seb just grinned.