Enigmatic Frequencies [3/?]
Title: Enigmatic Frequencies
Rating: PG-13
Word count: work in progress
Warnings: nothing blatant, just work in progress
Genre: romance, humor
11.
Three weeks later, Scott Wright relents and says, "Fine. 8 o'clock Friday night," and Quinn tries not to seem too eager, because finally.
"I thought you didn't date students?" Quinn asks, just to throw it back into Scott's face. He'd expected to be chastised for talking about it in front of the rest of the Scott's College Writing class, but he just smiles and tells Quinn he'll see him tomorrow night.
Quinn actually manages to make it to the parking lot before he yells out in victory.
12.
"So, a date."
"A date," Quinn replies happily. "After... Well, not that long, but, no fucking kidding, I've had marriage proposals after one-night stand blowjobs, so a month and a half is actually a long time."
Tiny looks impressed. "I shoulda went through one of those questioning phases like the kids today do," he says under his breath.
Not even bothering to look up from his textbook, Quinn says, "You would've freaked before my fingers touched your fly. You're a ladies man, Tiny, and no amount of alcohol can change that for you."
Tiny snorts. "Unfortunately. You know, if roles were reversed, you and me woulda been roped up long ago."
"Oh?"
"Lots of women ask about my 'hot punk friend,' and you have no idea how many men try to pick me up when we go to those gay bars 'a yours."
Quinn stifles his laughter into his hand. That might actually be true. "I was with one guy who I'm sure spent six weeks with me to get with you."
"What?" Tiny asks, both offended and intrigued. "Why the fuck-when was this?"
Quinn just turns back to his psychology assignment and refuses to tell him.
13.
"You're fairly well read for a man of your history," Scott tells him Friday night, lifting a glass of his most expensive wine to his lips. "No offense."
Quinn grins behind his own class. "None taken." He turns to his bag beside him and pulls out a book; 468 pages of run-on sentences and character "development" that Quinn knows he won't appreciate in the least. "It's no "great American novel," but it'll do for your next read, I think."
Fingering the lettering on the cover, Scott hums his approval. "There is a distinct lack of gays in classic literature," he murmurs, flipping it over to the back synopsis. "The age didn't exactly call for it, though."
Scott sounds far too pretentious for Quinn to be interested in him, normally, but he's sure that there's a layer beneath the 'college writing, literature, and English teacher' layer that has Scott just as dirty as anyone Quinn could pick up at a gay bar, just… with a little more self-respect. And a hell of a lot more intellect.
Scott finishes reading the back and offers a smile to Quinn, clinking his glass against Quinn's in thanks. "And I didn't even get you flowers," he says, but doesn't sound apologetic about it at all.
The goodnight kiss Scott gives him on his front step leaves much to be desired, but at least his behavior gathers another date Monday night.
"Watch out for the lawn on the left," Scott says when he pulls away, lips barely touching Quinn's. "They don't appreciate it when people step on their grass."
"Second date?" Quinn asks, blatantly ignoring Scott's warnings and opening his eyes, if a bit reluctantly. "Unless you think I don't hold up to your standards."
Scott's lips twitch up at the corners, but the expression doesn't blossom any further. He'll have to bring it up sometime, maybe, if this makes it past Date Three. "I'm beginning to think standards are a bit overrated, Mr. Hardy."
14.
Tiny laughs and laughs and laughs at him when Quinn finally gives in and tells him how far he'd gotten in seducing Scott.
"Wooing Mr. Wright," Tiny says, grinning as Quinn chokes on his food. "The next big blockbuster with two gay leads."
Quinn shrugs, looking across the street. "If I wanted my life to be one of those tragic movies women die for, I would have went down a very different path, my friend."
Tiny doesn't say anything for a few minutes until he pokes Quinn in the ribs when they've finished eating. "So, I don't gotta meet him or anything, right?"
Quinn shrugs. "No double dates or anything, please. Try to talk whatever ultra-hip girlfriend of yours you have now that we aren't going down this road." He glances at Tiny for a brief moment. "If you have to, tell her what happened last time."
"Just so you know, Quinn," Tiny says, slapping one of his hands on Quinn's shoulder. "Guys generally don't say words like ultra hip."
Quinn grins up at him, though, completely unfazed. "Like I give a fuck what most men don't say."
But Tiny grins, shaking his head. "There's my boy."
15.
Scott has a very rough chest. He says he waxes once a month, but there is absolutely no way he does. No way, no way, no way, Quinn thinks.
Quinn finds this all out fairly innocently, of course. As it turns out, meeting Scott mid-wardrobe change, while a great gift for Quinn, since he got to watch muscles move with Scott's efforts, really sets Scott on edge.
Quinn files this away for future reference and pretends nothing happened that was at all out-of-the-ordinary.
"What an interesting name," Scott says when Quinn starts talking about Tiny. "Although I don't suppose that's his given name."
Quinn leans back in the chair he's sitting in at the nice restaurant Scott brought him to. "No, not even Tiny's parents are that cruel."
He's just about to tell Scott his real name when Scott leans across the table and raises his eyebrows. "Mr. Hardy, if I wanted to be out on a date with 'Tiny', I would have asked him. I believed we opened the door to more personal information."
Except it can't really get more personal than talking about his best friend, but Quinn starts talking about anything and everything until their food arrives and he begs for Scott to tell him something instead.
"All right," Scott says after pausing to take a drink of water. "When I was seven, I was beat up because half a dozen kids heard me say I thought our teacher was cute."
"Seven?" Quinn was still desperately trying to cling to the simply ways of life at age seven, too naïve still to grow up. He wasn't looking at anything that wasn't video games, coloring paper, candy, or fast cars.
Scott nods, carefully watching Quinn. "Six stitches in my leg and a nice big bruise on my torso." He demonstrates by making an oblong shape with his fingers that probably would have covered his entire chest at age seven. "Not bad for a bunch of seven year olds. But I still stood by what I said and kept saying it, too."
"Brave," Quinn says. It's taken him this long-twenty two years-to freely admit that he finds someone attractive. To think that Scott could handle it at seven years old… Well, he can be a little jealous of a guy he's dating, right? Just makes everything hotter, somehow.
Laughing, Scott says, "I thought I was being fairly idiotic, but even then, I figured I was doing something right."
Smiling, Quinn tells himself that this, well, this could last a while.
Rating: PG-13
Word count: work in progress
Warnings: nothing blatant, just work in progress
Genre: romance, humor
11.
Three weeks later, Scott Wright relents and says, "Fine. 8 o'clock Friday night," and Quinn tries not to seem too eager, because finally.
"I thought you didn't date students?" Quinn asks, just to throw it back into Scott's face. He'd expected to be chastised for talking about it in front of the rest of the Scott's College Writing class, but he just smiles and tells Quinn he'll see him tomorrow night.
Quinn actually manages to make it to the parking lot before he yells out in victory.
12.
"So, a date."
"A date," Quinn replies happily. "After... Well, not that long, but, no fucking kidding, I've had marriage proposals after one-night stand blowjobs, so a month and a half is actually a long time."
Tiny looks impressed. "I shoulda went through one of those questioning phases like the kids today do," he says under his breath.
Not even bothering to look up from his textbook, Quinn says, "You would've freaked before my fingers touched your fly. You're a ladies man, Tiny, and no amount of alcohol can change that for you."
Tiny snorts. "Unfortunately. You know, if roles were reversed, you and me woulda been roped up long ago."
"Oh?"
"Lots of women ask about my 'hot punk friend,' and you have no idea how many men try to pick me up when we go to those gay bars 'a yours."
Quinn stifles his laughter into his hand. That might actually be true. "I was with one guy who I'm sure spent six weeks with me to get with you."
"What?" Tiny asks, both offended and intrigued. "Why the fuck-when was this?"
Quinn just turns back to his psychology assignment and refuses to tell him.
13.
"You're fairly well read for a man of your history," Scott tells him Friday night, lifting a glass of his most expensive wine to his lips. "No offense."
Quinn grins behind his own class. "None taken." He turns to his bag beside him and pulls out a book; 468 pages of run-on sentences and character "development" that Quinn knows he won't appreciate in the least. "It's no "great American novel," but it'll do for your next read, I think."
Fingering the lettering on the cover, Scott hums his approval. "There is a distinct lack of gays in classic literature," he murmurs, flipping it over to the back synopsis. "The age didn't exactly call for it, though."
Scott sounds far too pretentious for Quinn to be interested in him, normally, but he's sure that there's a layer beneath the 'college writing, literature, and English teacher' layer that has Scott just as dirty as anyone Quinn could pick up at a gay bar, just… with a little more self-respect. And a hell of a lot more intellect.
Scott finishes reading the back and offers a smile to Quinn, clinking his glass against Quinn's in thanks. "And I didn't even get you flowers," he says, but doesn't sound apologetic about it at all.
The goodnight kiss Scott gives him on his front step leaves much to be desired, but at least his behavior gathers another date Monday night.
"Watch out for the lawn on the left," Scott says when he pulls away, lips barely touching Quinn's. "They don't appreciate it when people step on their grass."
"Second date?" Quinn asks, blatantly ignoring Scott's warnings and opening his eyes, if a bit reluctantly. "Unless you think I don't hold up to your standards."
Scott's lips twitch up at the corners, but the expression doesn't blossom any further. He'll have to bring it up sometime, maybe, if this makes it past Date Three. "I'm beginning to think standards are a bit overrated, Mr. Hardy."
14.
Tiny laughs and laughs and laughs at him when Quinn finally gives in and tells him how far he'd gotten in seducing Scott.
"Wooing Mr. Wright," Tiny says, grinning as Quinn chokes on his food. "The next big blockbuster with two gay leads."
Quinn shrugs, looking across the street. "If I wanted my life to be one of those tragic movies women die for, I would have went down a very different path, my friend."
Tiny doesn't say anything for a few minutes until he pokes Quinn in the ribs when they've finished eating. "So, I don't gotta meet him or anything, right?"
Quinn shrugs. "No double dates or anything, please. Try to talk whatever ultra-hip girlfriend of yours you have now that we aren't going down this road." He glances at Tiny for a brief moment. "If you have to, tell her what happened last time."
"Just so you know, Quinn," Tiny says, slapping one of his hands on Quinn's shoulder. "Guys generally don't say words like ultra hip."
Quinn grins up at him, though, completely unfazed. "Like I give a fuck what most men don't say."
But Tiny grins, shaking his head. "There's my boy."
15.
Scott has a very rough chest. He says he waxes once a month, but there is absolutely no way he does. No way, no way, no way, Quinn thinks.
Quinn finds this all out fairly innocently, of course. As it turns out, meeting Scott mid-wardrobe change, while a great gift for Quinn, since he got to watch muscles move with Scott's efforts, really sets Scott on edge.
Quinn files this away for future reference and pretends nothing happened that was at all out-of-the-ordinary.
"What an interesting name," Scott says when Quinn starts talking about Tiny. "Although I don't suppose that's his given name."
Quinn leans back in the chair he's sitting in at the nice restaurant Scott brought him to. "No, not even Tiny's parents are that cruel."
He's just about to tell Scott his real name when Scott leans across the table and raises his eyebrows. "Mr. Hardy, if I wanted to be out on a date with 'Tiny', I would have asked him. I believed we opened the door to more personal information."
Except it can't really get more personal than talking about his best friend, but Quinn starts talking about anything and everything until their food arrives and he begs for Scott to tell him something instead.
"All right," Scott says after pausing to take a drink of water. "When I was seven, I was beat up because half a dozen kids heard me say I thought our teacher was cute."
"Seven?" Quinn was still desperately trying to cling to the simply ways of life at age seven, too naïve still to grow up. He wasn't looking at anything that wasn't video games, coloring paper, candy, or fast cars.
Scott nods, carefully watching Quinn. "Six stitches in my leg and a nice big bruise on my torso." He demonstrates by making an oblong shape with his fingers that probably would have covered his entire chest at age seven. "Not bad for a bunch of seven year olds. But I still stood by what I said and kept saying it, too."
"Brave," Quinn says. It's taken him this long-twenty two years-to freely admit that he finds someone attractive. To think that Scott could handle it at seven years old… Well, he can be a little jealous of a guy he's dating, right? Just makes everything hotter, somehow.
Laughing, Scott says, "I thought I was being fairly idiotic, but even then, I figured I was doing something right."
Smiling, Quinn tells himself that this, well, this could last a while.