Author Note:

This fic was done with the assumption that Miwako and Arashi didn't know George all that well before they joined the Paradise Kiss Fashion Crew... I'm not sure what the timeline on this is, but I'm assuming that they started working together before they had George's Uncle's bar, and before senior year.

This will be a George X Arashi fic, although they won't end up dating or anything like that. This is supposed to be what was going on in their lives before Yukari, and why Arashi thinks George is such a bad guy (pervert)...


Feckin' Nancy Boy.

Arashi slunk down in his chair, thin arms crossing over his chest as he watched the honors student lean forward, pouring coffee into the two cups on the table. He wasn't sure what was pissin' him off more right now, the fact that he'd already volunteered to work for three other students and been rejected, or that Koizumi hadn't said a word since he'd come in the room, other then "Take a seat."

Truthfully, he knew very little about this guy. Well, of course he knew that every feckin' teacher spoke highly of Koizumi and said he was going to make it one day. What the 'ell did that mean, anyway? Was that supposed to mean that Arashi was destined for absolutely nothing?

That wasn't entirely the truth. They had been in classes together; all of which Koizumi excelled in. He was easily becoming one of the most known students...

A noticeable scowl had begun to form over Arashi's pierced mouth at this point, safety pin twisting at an odd angle. Koizumi was adding milk and sugar to their beverages, that condescending smirk still visible on the blue-haired youth's face.

Exhaling sharply, Arashi sat up quickly, hands grabbing the arms of the chair. "Well?! This ain't some feckin' tea party! Are you just gonna sit there or are we gonna get down to business?!"

George blinked, features blanking as brows rose, that false look of naivety showing. "Oh... I had no idea that you were in such a rush to talk about 'that.'" Leaning further across the table, a teasing smile played on his lips. "Although I must say, I don't usually go for punks like you..."

Arashi's eyes widened as he sat back, sweatdropping and more then likely blushing, two things he found himself rarely doing. What the feck?! Was this guy hitting on him, or talking about the fashion group he wanted into?! This meant that all the rumors about him were true! "This Koizumi guy is a bloody poof," he mumbled, more to himself, trying to regain his composure.

George's sight narrowed as he relaxed back in his chair, hands folded in his lap. "What did you say?"

Feck this. Arashi's scowl resurfaced as he snatched his coffee, slurping loudly before speaking. "I said, 'This Koizumi guy is a bloody poof'!" he snarled. The designer's attitude was already rubbing him the wrong way.

Letting out a little 'hnn', George nodded. "That's what I thought you said." His teasing half-grin reformed as his cool gaze locked with Arashi's. "Please, call me George."

Eyes boggling almost out of his head, Arashi practically gaped. He hadn't denied it!! And he was -staring- at Arashi. Openly. Unabashed. Staring. Fighting the urge to squirm under the inspection he was receiving, Arashi shoved his chair back, putting the coffee cup back on the table, the liquid sloshing over the rim to stain the tablecloth. There had to be another honors kid to work for, no reason to get mixed up with a poof like this! "I'm goin'... Waste of my time."

George watched silently, his smile only growing wider to Arashi's retreating form. "You know, an adorable student named Miwako already agreed to work for me, and formally signed up. I don't think I've ever met such a cute, tiny girl. I think I'll enjoy her working under me."

Arashi froze mid-step, hearing the way George was talking about Miwako, HIS girlfriend. There was no mistaking those hidden implications... Spinning around, two long steps carrying him back to the table. He reached across it, grabbing the front of George's velvet vest and yanking him a good six inches off the seat of his chair. "Miwako is MY girlfriend, you bastard!! And would you make up your bloody mind?! Are you gay or not?!"

Of course, George already knew that Miwako was Arashi's girl. Miwako had told George her entire life story, as well as that of her older sister and boyfriend. "Well, since you asked so nicely, I'll tell you. I'm bisexual," he explained perhaps a bit too easily, seemingly unmoved by the violent nature the blond was showing.

Upper lip curling back, Arashi unceremoniously released George, and hovered near the table, unsure if he should leave or stay. If Miwako had already agreed to work for this guy, he definitely didn't want her alone with him.

George motioned to where Arashi had been sitting before. "Sit."

Almost not realizing what he was doing, the guitarist sat down. George really did have a way of commanding those around him with hardly an effort.

"I've seen your work," George started, level tone revealing nothing of what he thought. "It was good, the stitching and color choices, although the overall design lacked in originality."

"I already heard all this before! If you're just gonna sit there on your high and mighty feckin' horse, rubbing it in my face, then I'm just gonna leave!" Arashi threatened, making as though he intended to stand up again.

Barely holding back a smirk, George shook his head slowly. "Arashi, I've spoken with the other selected students." He loved having the upper hand, and that shown through with the way his eyes gleamed. "I'm your last option. The few left you haven't spoken to don't want to meet with you, for obvious reasons," he said, purposely straightening his vest to make a point.

"You think I give a shite? Ha! I don't need a fashion group; that's not a requirement for graduation, anyway," Arashi spat in self defense, disliking the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew he'd probably pissed off more then one of the honors students, but he hadn't realized it had been that serious.

"You're absolutely correct. You -don't- need a fashion group to graduate," George readily agreed, much to Arashi's surprise. "But... You're easy to read, Arashi. I know you want a group to work with, and..." he went on, the faint change in his tone making Arashi even more uncomfortable. "I want you..."

Cheeks flamed again as Arashi nearly fell out of his chair. If the pervert touched him, he swore he would give George a good punch to that pretty boy chin of his. "What?!"

George canted his head, as though he was wondering why Arashi had reacted like that. "I want you to join my fashion group. What did you think I meant?"

Maybe he was just imagining George was coming on to him. That was a very scary thought. Ignoring the question, he finally processed what had been said. "Wait.. That's it? I'm in?"

Nodding, George stood up, hands on hips. "Yup."

Arashi rubbed the back of his head, trying to decide whether he should thank George or sock 'um once for being so strange. "Uh.. Okay." He watched as George put on a blazer that matched his slacks, then a color coordinated hat.

Smiling, George walked towards Arashi, placing a hand on the blond's lower back, urging him towards the door.

"What are you doing? Don't touch me!" Arashi stumbled out of George's reach, swatting at that 'friendly' hand.

"Easy there, tiger," George stated flatly. "Let's go."

Frowning, Arashi didn't reply as he made his way out of the room, somehow resisting the urge to glance over a shoulder and keep an eye on George to make sure he didn't try anything funny.

Safely outside, Arashi turned left, waving a hand over his shoulder in farewell as he started down the sidewalk. Time to get home.

Hooking his fingers around the back of Arashi's belt, George held still, smirking when he felt the other's body give a little jerk as it was stopped suddenly.

Instead of the ranting outburst he expected, George was greeted with hit upside his head. "DON'T TOUCH ME!! AHHH!" Arashi shouted.

George rubbed his sore bump, somewhat surprised and definitely interested. Most of the insane ones at Yaza Arts were already taken. "You're going the wrong way. The diner is -that- way," George said, pointing in the opposite direction.

Gnashing his teeth, Arashi's hands formed fists, as though he meant to strike George again. "Why the 'ell would I go out to eat with you?"

"We -do- need to discuss your job in the group, where we'll meet, what times are convenient for us." George's grin was nearly ear to ear, so mocking that it was as though he were just begging for Arashi to hit him again. "Don't worry, when I ask you out on a date, you'll know it. This is strictly business."

Considering that Arashi had no idea what George defined business as, it was no shocker when he gave the designer another knuckle sandwich.