By Grace (purplemud)

Disclaimers: Me don't own. Standard disclaimers apply.
Rating: 2-3 (for language)
Pairings: Naley
Summary: Naley tutoring session, one shot
Spoilers: AU Season One (I just adore season one Naley) Let's just say that the kiss-ass Dan Scott jamboree happened a little differently. There was no drunk bitchy Brooke, no note and no serial date for Naley.
Notes: I still kind of feel that Naley's beginnings was a tad too rushed, not that I'm complaining I still love Season One Naley the best… but, ehh… yeah, here's the fic. Please let me know what you guys think. The ending is all sorts of cheesy and a little OCC, but I couldn't help it.


It's a simple enough equation, even Tim understood it and that is saying a lot.

Shit-faced Bastard-son Lucas Scott minus bestfriend Mousy Tutor Girl Haley James equals miserable, fucked up Lucas Scott equals Happy Nathan Scott.

See, simple. None of the stupid x and y's shit that he's currently, blankly staring at.

And this should explain why he's being tutored at 7 in the morning, with his brains still lodged somewhere beneath the covers of his now sinfully empty bed.

Simple fucking equation and he was royally fucking it all up.

He couldn't help but let out a snicker. Royally fucking it all up. His grandfather and asshole of a father would just love that.

"What's so funny?" The voice is low, musical, annoyed and curious all at the same time.

Me, he answers mentally. I'm being funny. I'm being so fucking funny because I am honestly, actually trying to get a good grade for this stupid exam because it's getting me all fucked up just wondering how dumb you think I must be. He doesn't say this of course, instead he looks up, frowns and asks, "What does self-depreciating mean?"

He immediately cringes at the tone of his voice. On the edge, challenging. This isn't his best day. He isn't being his best charming self today and he best remember that he needs to be charming to win her over.

Except that it's getting to be so tiring. And all he wants is to be himself when he's with her but he doesn't know how to be that.

Well, actually he knows. He's an arrogant, insensitive jerk off. He knows it. His parents knows it. His girlfriend knows it. Everyone knows it. Hell, even she knows it, but he doesn't want to be that guy when he's with her.

Not anymore.

And fuck that, when did happen? Isn't he supposed to notice things like that? The fact that he didn't scared the shit out of him. Somehow, somewhere she had slipped past his defenses, crawled underneath his skin, stayed there, festered, grew, deepen. Whatever.

All he knows is that she's there. And she's not supposed to be there. That wasn't part of the plan.

"I didn't know there's a vocabulary exercise on your math practice test." She answers playfully.

He tries not to chuckle. She's always saying something funny. Not the Tim ha-ha-ha-gross kind of funny, just sort of silly funny and he's supposed to be above that, but apparently, if it's her, he's not. "Peyton asked me the other day if I was being self-depreciating."

"Oh." This earns him a raised eyebrow. Not perfectly arched, no penciled perfect curved line that he was so used to seeing with other girls. This raised eyebrow wasn't trying to be coy, or inviting, or cute. She's genuinely caught off guard by the information he just shared, he could see it on the lines appearing on her forehead, and yet that was exactly what her raised eyebrows looked like: a little coy, definitely inviting, most definitely cute.

He knows that she's trying to work out if answering his question will somehow mean… what?

With him, the possibilities were endless. He could be trying to bait her into an argument or probably a round of sometimes one-sided flirting or maybe he was gearing up to throw some more mud into Lucas' name.

It's an innocent enough question but he's letting her figure it out. He has no agenda today other than to just get through the tutoring without making it more obvious how badly he needed to be tutored. Maybe make her smile, maybe get her to ride with him to school this time, maybe get to smell that nameless clean, faintly flowery scent of her hair again.

How fucking sad is that?

It's taking her a little too long to answer and he's guessing it's because he's so openly smirking at her. He doesn't know how to actually genuinely smile. At least not like the way she does: the corner of her lips curling, her impossibly huge, impossibly warm, impossibly brown eyes dancing.

Eyes dancing.

Fuck. He's quickly turning out to be the kind of pansy he had promised himself years ago never to become one. Next thing, he'll be following her around school like some love sick puppy.

"Well," she clears her throat, looks down at the table. He could tell she's blushing and that's another thing that endlessly fascinates him. He follows the line of her sight, wonders what she could've found there that was suddenly interesting and he notices that she's wearing the crackerjack bracelet that he had given her.

This makes him want to smile but all he could feel is his upper lips pulling up in another one of his smirks.

"It…it means belittling one's self. But, probably, you know, mostly in jest." She seems wary of the question.

Ah. Well, apparently, he knew what it meant. At least he's got that one right.

"What did you...I mean, why did Peyton tell you that?" She asks suddenly, scrunching up her face, the little wrinkles in the bride of her nose making their appearance, jaws working silently, mouth a little askew.

God, she looks so… so Haley James. No other girl he has ever met, ever made out with, ever had sex with had such an openly, expressive face.

He wants to know all her expression.

So far, he has seen her annoyed, sad, wistful, pissed off, flustered, confused and he is thinking, he needs to know - badly - how she'll look after he had his way with her.

Oh, yeah, he'll have to start of with a kiss. No. No. He'll have to start touching her first. Her wrist. He likes her wrist. Slender. Pale. And then her neck. Graceful and so smooth-looking. Then the dips of her collarbone. Fucking sexy as hell. He'll trace his fingers all over her skin, watch her mouth slightly open, and watch her let out a breathy sigh. Or maybe, she'll bite her lips.

Fuck it. Fuck it. Fuck it.

He shakes his head, clearing the mental images that were rushing into his brain, into his blood streams and heading straight towards his groin.

Who would've fucking thought he'd get turned on during a tutoring sessing at 7 in the morning?

She's staring expectantly up at him and he remembers her question. He remembers being inside his room telling Peyton that he didn't think that they'd work out anymore, that they ever actually worked out. He remembers Peyton agreeing with him, seeing her smiling up at him, fondly, for the first time ever since they had started dating. He remembers almost blurting out that it's Haley, she's the one. But stopping himself only to remember that he's supposed to be doing these - the tutoring, laying off Lucas for a while - all to piss stain in the bedsheet Lucas.

How fucking ironic that he's the one currently pissed off because Lucas actually met her first, found her first.


The silence hangs between them. Heavy, foggy. He's feeling the weight of his own stupidity. He looks away, silently listens as Haley mumbles her apologies.

She's saying that she's always been nosy. A bad habit. Something she got from her sister, Taylor or something. She's saying not to mind her rambling, even though Nathan never really minded, he likes her rambling, like the way he likes everything else about her.

Even the stupid poncho she loves to wear was becoming almost endearing to him. Even the fact that she's Lucas' bestfriend didn't seem so bad to him anymore. It's even gotten him to think that it might even be a good thing and not in the Getting Back Sticking it to his Brother kind of way.

He should've gotten himself tutored first, Nathan thinks to himself. That way, he would've never gotten way over his head.

Simple equation. Yeah, right.

There's nothing ever simple when it comes to him and his brother and now, with Haley, it's bound to get even more complicated.

Because now, the only equation stuck inside his head, defiantly mocking him is: Nathan Scott + Haley James equals forever.

See, told you, cheesy ending. LOL.