Written for a comment_fic prompt: Dollhouse/CSI, Topher/Greg, shenanigans
A/N – I did research for a commentfic!!! *facepalms* Set in an AU where Greg and Topher were at Stanford at the same time. Not too much of a stretch.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Want all.
Rating: For mature themes/jokes.
The year was 2002. The place was Stanford University. The people … were nerds. Cute, blond, skinny, adorable nerds, but nerds nonetheless. Early in their first semester Greg and Topher had bonded over a hilarious joke about protein markers and had been friends ever since. They had also both suffered from fairly constant bullying and teasing from the school jocks which they took in stride but one day, it went too far. Measures had to be taken.
"I'm suffocating!" Topher yelled in a panic.
"You can't suffocate, there are air slits in the door," Greg pointed out with a grunt as he continued to work the lock cutters.
"It's not enough, I can feel my brain cells crying out for more!" Topher ranted from inside the locker. "My precious brain cells!"
"Got it!" Greg called triumphantly as the lock fell away. Topher scrambled out of the locker, gasping.
"Oh beautiful oxygen. All the O2 my heart and brain could desire. God, what is this high school? Why are there even lockers in this hallway? Who does that?"
"Come on, we're going to my room, best O2 on the block," Greg instructed suddenly, leading the way and assuming Topher would follow.
"Forceful much?" Topher grumbled, but then shook his head. "No wait, never mind, I like forceful. Carry on."
When they got to Greg's dorm room Topher saw that Greg's chemistry equipment was up and running and he had something on the boil.
"What's this? Making martinis?" Topher asked as he inspected what was cooking.
Greg picked up one of the beakers and stirred it, smiling gleefully when it appeared to be dissolving correctly. He handed it proudly to Topher.
"This, my friend, is ethoxy methyl-3-propyl-6-dihydro-7H-pyrazolo."
Topher's eyebrows rose, "Viagra? Is there something you want to tell me? Or is there something I should tell you?"
Greg snatched it back, "It's not for me, or you, it's for those assholes who stuffed you in the locker."
"You're gonna have to work on your evil genius plans a bit more Greg, giving popular jocks boners isn't much of a revenge strategy. First of all, they've got them anyway, and second of all, it's not like they have trouble finding girls that would take care of any man-reactions they might get," Topher informed him.
"First of all, there's no might. I played with the formula, it's almost twice as potent as Viagra. As for girls being around, well, it's all about timing," Greg grinned as he poured his concoction into a water bottle.
"Explain," Topher requested, intrigued.
"It's possible I know the guy who's the football team's waterboy, and it's possible he hates them as much as we do, and it's quite possible he agreed to slip this into their water during practice," Greg drawled out slowly.
Topher's grin spread like a Cheshire, "So they're all hot, sweaty and tackling each other … with extreme hard-ons? Oh, that is gold. The awkward complications and sexual confusion alone are worth risking our lives. A nobel prize awaits you my friend, I can see it in your future."
"I'll settle for sweet revenge. Come on, practice starts in half an hour," Greg urged him.
"The sweetness of this is beyond words. I am wordless," Topher squealed, bowing to Greg's genius. "What do you want to do after? I've got laser tag."
"I've got some liquid latex."