Disclaimer: I own Gundam Wing. But I'm also certifiably insane, so don't expect that claim to hold up in court.... AND I knowingly DO NOT own the title "Teenage Dirtbag" I stole it from the band Wheatus because I'm lazy as shit and couldn't think of my own.

Pairings: 1xR, 2+R
Warnings: non-yaoi, duo pov, au (present day Ohio), ooc?, language, drug abuse (kidstuff), and ANGST as only high school can inspire.

Author's Notes: Sprung from the Wheatus song "Teenage Dirtbag," but takes quite a different turn. Please don't be afraid that this fic is technically 1xR, it really does focus on the growing relationship between Heero and Duo.

Summary: Duo forms an odd friendship with his crush's bad-boy boyfriend and it's one neither of them will forget.

Teenage Dirtbag
Part 2
by Granate

"You're late, Yuy," I hear the proctor say irritably. "Want another detention?"

Heero doesn't answer, just looks bored.

The proctor shakes his head, "Next time, Yuy... For now, just go sit down. There's an open seat at Maxwell's table."

What?! Oh great! The last thing I want is to sit near that guy for the next three hours. I feel like maybe the words, "Your girlfriend gives me mental love every morning in the shower," might be written across my forehead. It couldn't have been worse if it were, "I'd really enjoy a good ass whoopin', thanks a bunch!" instead.

I concentrate solely on my homework and pretend I don't notice as he sits down diagonally from me. Of course he doesn't say anything. But in the next ten minutes, the weirdest feeling comes over me. It feels like I'm being watched. What the hell? Heero Yuy is staring at me. I swear to myself and keep working on my calculus. It doesn't stop, it gets worse. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him lean on the table and peer closer. I would like to tell him to cut it the hell out, but I don't want to piss him off, so I just try to ignore it. It's like not looking a Silverback in the eye for fear it'll rush at you with those canines and tear your throat out.

Finally, I can't take it anymore. I glance up at him briefly with a very irritated expression and then go back to my work. I know that doesn't seem very gutsy, but trust me, that look was very irritated. When I looked at him, he wasn't glaring at me really. He was peering at me with curiosity, sort of like I had the answer to some question he hadn't thought of yet. His eyes were narrowed, but his pupils were all dialated and his whites bloodshot. Definitely high. Yes, I'm sure a funny-looking geek doing his AP calculus homework is much more interesting when one is high. I wish I were high too, at least detention wouldn't be so boring.

I successfully ignore him until he fluidly shifts and sinks into the seat across from me. This makes me really uncomfortable because he is really looking closely at me now. My foot is twitching a mile a minute under the table. I am always wiggling in some way or another, in perpetual motion, especially when I'm nervous. Probably why I'm so damned skinny. I realize I'm fidgeting with the end of my braid and toss it over my shoulder.

"You look like a girl with that hair."

I just stare back, too stunned to speak. The guy hasn't spoken a word to me in three years and probably wasn't even aware of my existence until thirteen minutes ago and that's what comes out of his mouth? I try to prepare one of my usual clever retorts, but I don't have a chance to get it out.

"Hnn...wait... I know you..." he says as if he were still trying to figure me out. His voice is deep and smooth. I look at him with an even more puzzled expression. I'm never caught speechless like this, it's just not possible for me. Or so I thought. I am mostly stunned that he's actually talking. To ME. I look over at the proctor quickly. We aren't supposed to talk in detention. But he doesn't seem to notice us talking.

"Yes, I'm sure..." Heero continues absent-mindedly as his ice blue eyes get a better look at my face.

"Um, we've gone to school together for four years," I remind him. Everybody knows who everybody else is after four years, even a school as big as ours.

"No, don't tell me now..." he waves my suggestion off.

"Um, we live in the same neighborhood?" I venture.

"No, no that's not it..." he says, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. I am truly amazed. This seems like a lot of talking for him.

"You drive over my lawn every weekend?" I quip, feeling snarky. He actually does, too. Every Saturday or Sunday morning, we find big tire tracks over our grass. We live on a corner. I know it's him too, I've seen him take the corner too fast.

"No, no... " he dismisses me again. A dim light bulb suddenly goes on somewhere in his empty, cobb-webby, Neanderthal head.

"You have a crush on my girlfriend!" he finally comes up with, a hand slamming down on the table in triumph.

"Wha- What?!" I stammer as I feel my face start to get hot with embarrassment and my eyes bug out. "Who told you that?" I demand, trying to keep my tightening voice under control. The way I'm blushing, there's no use trying to deny it, even to save my own life.

"She did," he says lazily. "She said she worked with you on a project or something and you acted like some kind of love-sick puppy or something."

My eyes flash with rage. She wouldn't have said that! No one calls me a puppy!

"And I've seen you staring at her," he continues, pushing back in his chair. "It's pretty obvious."

"C-come on now!" I stutter. "That isn't fair! Putting me on the spot! Who doesn't have crush on Relena?!"

He stretches his arms behind his head in satisfaction. "I suppose you're right," he agrees in a cocky tone. He just sits there, with his arms behind his head, displaying his chest and shoulders, and sneering at me.

"Are you going to kick my ass?" I ask in a strangled voice.

He looks thoughtful. "No," he decides benevolently.

"Really? Why not?" I ask, too shocked to stop myself from wondering out loud.

"'Cuz I'm just blitzed right now..." he answers, as if I couldn't tell, "and I don't really feel like it. Remind me later though."

"Yeah, sure thing," I snap back sarcastically. Bored of this persecution, I go back to my homework. But this odd exchange isn't over yet.

"That's wrong," he says after a few minutes of watching me work.

"What?" I ask tersely, not liking to be corrected by remedial-math bozos.

He brings all four legs of his chair back down and points to the problem I am working on. "Right there," he tells me. "You calculated the wrong decimal. Hn, you must have messed up in your derivation somewhere..." He scans the paper upside down. "There," he points to an expression a few lines up, and then leans back in his chair to smugly watch me look it over.

It takes me a whole minute to figure it out, but he's right! Heero Yuy just corrected my calculus homework!! I can't fucking believe it. What can I say to that?

"Is there anything else wrong?" I ask when I finish correcting it. I push the paper over to him. He turns it around and pages through it, just scanning it. He finishes but doesn't give it back. I give him an impatient look, but he just looks at me thoughtfully again.

"Can I have my homework back now?" I ask irritatedly.

"God, you're a dork," he shakes his head. "No, tell me something first."

"What?" I snap, really losing my patience.

"Why?" he asks, still holding my homework hostage.

"Why what?" I ask, unable to follow his train of thought.

"Why do you like Relena so much?" he presses. It sounds like he really wants to know.

"That's personal," I retort, putting my nose in the air.

"Then you're not getting this back," he says definitively.

"Come on! You're her boyfriend, you can probably think of more reasons to like her than I can!" I stammer, blushing again.

"Maybe, but I want to know why you like her," he answers.

How humiliating. "Come on," I appeal. "It's not like you really care. This is stupid!"

He cocks a threatening eyebrow at me, and holds my homework as if he were going to tear it half.

"Don't!" I gasp, grabbing for my packet. He effortlessly holds it out of my reach. I sit back in my chair and cross my arms in a huff. I glance over to see if the proctors are catching any of this and of course the aren't. Heero is still looking at me expectantly.

"You are a sick person," I tell him flatly. He just raises his thick brows briefly and waits for me to continue. I take a deep breath. "Well, she's pretty... and nice... and smart..."

He interrupts me with a snicker. "Those are all such shallow adjectives," he frowns. "Can't you come up with anything better?"

"Hey," I defend myself. "This isn't one of those things where you try to get me to write a damn love letter to your girlfriend or something is it? 'Cause I'm not playing this little game!"

He gives me an incredulous look. "Why would I want you to do that?" he asks. I roll my eyes.

"Well?" he hasn't forgotten his original question. I don't say anything. He rips the staple out of my packet and starts doing some sort of origami with the pages.

"Stop!" I cry. "Alright, alright!" Things just come pouring out of my mouth as I watch him mutilate my work, "She's sweet and perfect... I love her long hair and her pouty lips... Even her eyebrows are perfect! She has terrific legs, especially in that short green skirt she wore last week - " Please know that at this point I'm not thinking about what he might do to me for saying any of this, I'm just trying to save my calculus homework, "- She's competent and ambitious, and she makes good speeches when she runs for student government... and for Christ's sake, she's a gymnast..." I trail off, finally slowing down because he's ceased his assault on my packet. "And I guess its sort of one of those Unattainable Things, you know? I know I'll never have her, so I don't have to worry about actually trying to make her like me or dating her or anything. It's safer somehow, I guess." I finally halt, shocked that I admitted so much to her boyfriend.

He looks at me thoughtfully, obviously surprised that I have my crush so well self-analyzed. He cocks his head and says, "That's interesting."

I roll my eyes and cross my arms again. I am still majorly pissed, not to mention embarrassed as hell, that he made me admit to all that. "Is this what you do for fun?" I ask cynically. "Intimidate people?"

He smirks at me. "This was fun. I'll have to do it again sometime."

"You're an asshole," I say matter-of-factly. He seems to have no arguments with that. "Can I have my homework back now, or what's left of it?" I ask crossly.

"Uh-huh," he says, pushing the pages across the table. He does it too hard and they scatter all over the floor next to me. "And there's another mistake in problem 4."

I growl to myself and bend down to pick them up. Sensible pumps and serious slacks enter my view. Uh-oh, the other proctor.

on to part 3

back to fiction

back to granate fiction

back home