A/N: CORNY TITLE IS CORNY. Also, I don't even know what happened here, it just came out of me in like, two hours. And it's kind of dumb. Side note, in case you're blissfully unaware of what YOLO means (Alex mentions it because, eh, what the hell), it's You Only Live Once.
Warnings: highschool AU, Hank/Alex, a bit of heavily implied Angel/Raven, implied Erik/Charles, sexting, descriptions and implications of sexual acts, language, horny teenagers, crack.
Disclaimer: I don't own.
"Does anyone have any idea what Shakespeare means by this?"
There's a pause while Ms. Frost glances coolly from person to person, waiting for some poor soul to volunteer an answer. When no one does, she purses her lips and crosses her arms, annoyed with the lot of them (as usual). Alex longs to say, well, bitch, if you didn't want to put up with dumb-ass kids, you shouldn't have become a high-school Lit teacher, but he doesn't, because he's been on the receiving end of one of Emma Frost's infamous Death Glares before, and they kind of make you feel like she's actually trying to fry your puny little brain with her mind, so yeah, not worth it. Also, she'd probably send him to Shaw for that kind of comment, and he doesn't want to spend the rest of the afternoon in the administrative office writing an "apology letter".
Then again, it might be better than sitting here listening to Frost bitch some more about iambic pentameter or whatever the hell it's called.
Ms. Frost finally settles on a victim. "Miss Darkholme? Any thoughts on the text?"
Raven looks up from her pocket mirror, which she'd been discreetly checking her lip-gloss with. She looks rather confused, having clearly not being paying much attention. "Um . . ."
Alex decides to tune out again, because frankly, he has no interest whatsoever in Shakespeare. He'll gladly read some cool, Beat Generation type shit, but William Shakespeare? No, thank you.
He pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through his contacts, looking for someone to message. Maybe someone's doing something after school, or maybe someone else is trapped in a hellishly annoying class and wants to talk.
He could try Angel – but no, she always sleeps during class, so that's pointless. Darwin's in Advanced Biology right now, and Xavier's like a god-damned mind-reader, constantly catching even the smoothest people with their cell phones out (although he's by far the nicest teacher in the school, so he usually doesn't do anything but request that the phone be put away.)
Well, there's always Sean. Sean has Government this period, and he's probably just staring dreamily at Ms. MacTaggert right now, and he definitely has the hookup on some illicit substances (for after school use, of course). But wait, Sean lost his phone. Dumb ass, Alex thinks, more fondly than anything, he's lucky he hasn't lost his own brain yet. Actually, it might not affect him too much, he's fried it with weed.
Alex keeps scrolling up and down through his contacts, but he doesn't regularly text that many people, so he doesn't have many decent options. Then, a name catches his eye.
. . . Since when did he have Hank McCoy's name saved into his phone?
He frowns, trying to recall when and where he'd gotten the number, and then he remembers. He'd gotten it from Sean's phone for the purpose of "prank-calling the hell out of the punk." Mostly he'd been waiting until he had the nerve and opportunity to text Hank and start a conversation.
(So maybe he has a bit of a crush on the dweeb. Maybe he's had kind of a crush on Hank ever since last year, when he'd moved in with Scott and transferred here. Whatever, he likes teasing Hank for . . . some reason or another.)
He glances at the clock on the wall, tunes back in to Frost's lecture for a second, glances back at the contact, bozo, in his phone, and decides, to hell with it, YOLO.
He waits several seconds, and to his immense surprise, he gets a text back.
I'm sorry, who is this?
Oh, shit, of course Hank doesn't have his phone number, because to him, Alex is just the asshole who sits with Sean Cassidy at lunch and occasionally throws grapes at the back of his stupid, genius-y head. it's alex.
Hank must be an extremely fast text-messager, because seconds later comes a reply. (Alex always kind of figured Hank would be good with his fingers.) Summers?
yeah, summers. what's up
There's a moment's pause, and then, The ceiling, I suppose. Not to be rude or anything, but how did you get my phone number?
sean gave it to me. Seconds after he sends that, he panics a little. Hank's probably going to think he's a weirdo. (But Hank is a weirdo, so, really, fuck you, Bozo.) Or maybe he'll just think Alex is trying to fuck with him. But that's what Alex is trying to do, right? Fuck with Hank. Yeah. He'll go with that.
Oh. Is there any particular reason you've decided to text me during class?
maybe, Alex types back, glancing up quickly to ensure that Frost isn't looking at him. maybe i'm bored. or maybe i just want to talk to you. For good measure (and purely to cause more fuckery on the Hank front), he adds a ;), but quickly, so he doesn't have time to tell himself how stupid that probably looks.
Why? is Hank's reply. Alex can picture him, looking down at his phone in class, his lips pursed slightly in confusion as he reads Alex's text messages. God-damn, those lips. Alex has never gotten nearly as close to them as he would've liked to, but he knows exactly how pretty and pink they are, and he has a damn good idea of how soft and warm they must be.
i figured you'd have something interesting to say.
Oh, really? How do you figure that?
. . . Hank better not be pulling some fuckery of his own. Really? How do I figure what, Bozo?
you're smart. you must be fun to talk to.
Most people wouldn't agree with you.
God-damn it, nerdy Hank McCoy just managed to sound self-loathing in less than a hundred characters. Alex abruptly feels a little bad for all of the times he's called Hank a loser or a nerd (kind of, but not really, because he can't feel guilty for wanting to make Hank blush with embarrassment and anger, because 'flushed and pissed off' is just such a good look on him).
why not? you think you're not interesting, mccoy?
I didn't say that. But most people don't find the things that I talk about to be very interesting.
maybe i would, if you talked to me. ;)
Okay, Alex is traveling from 'fucking with' to 'flirting' territory. This could either get really funny, really awesome, or really shitty, depending on Hank's reaction.
A few minutes pass while he waits for Hank's reply. What's brought this on, Alex? Two days ago you threw chicken fingers at me in the lunch room like a 4th grader, and now you're starting a nice conversation with me.
no one asked you to text back, mccoy.
Alex rolls his eyes, and decides to up the ante a little bit, because there's still quite a while left before the bell rings, so why be bored when he could be making Hank McCoy squirm (even if he's not there to actually see the squirming)? i'm sorry about the chicken nuggets, he types. maybe i threw them at you just to get your attention.
Why would you do that?
maybe i want you to look at me.
Alex bites his bottom lip, suddenly feeling just a little nervous. That last statement was a little bit too much, perhaps, the meaning a little too obvious – he wants Hank McCoy's attention, he wants to make Hank McCoy take notice of him. He's been wanting it since the beginning of junior year, when he'd first caught sight of a tall, dorkily pretty boy in khakis and a cardigan in the hallway. And he's probably been going about getting Hank's attention in the wrong way – as Hank said, he's been acting like a fourth grader about it.
You wouldn't have to throw food at my head to get me to look at you, Alex.
Well, shit. What the hell does that mean? Is he pissed, or is he implying that he . . . looks at Alex? Damn it, Hank should really use smiley faces, it would make gauging his emotions without face-to-face interaction much simpler.
But whatever, Alex is going to roll with it. He's a Summers, staying in control of things is a strong suit of his. maybe i like making you blush, mccoy. you blush easy, after all.
From the front of the room, Frost is talking about some assignment that's due by the end of class, but screw that, because after another few seconds, Alex's phone lights up again in his lap. So . . . you just want to make me blush? That's it?
Oh, damn, Alex can tell what an awkward nerd Hank really is, even through text message, but there's potential there, potential for sex appeal and charisma and coy flirtation. Hank just isn't harnessing it yet. not exactly. but i wanna make you blush in other ways, too.
Alex only gets one word in response: How? Oh, yeah, Hank's definitely aware of what Alex is doing, even if Alex isn't fully serious about it (or maybe he is?) and even if Hank's still confused as hell.
i wanna kiss you. i bet your cheeks turn pink when you've been kissed really good.
He intentionally puts in 'good' instead of 'well', because he knows it's the kind of little thing that will bother Hank, just a little. He bites his lip again, nerves tickling his stomach again. He's officially come out with it now, he's officially stated the fact that he'd like to kiss Hank senseless. Wow, when he woke up this morning, he really didn't expect that he'd be spending Lit class texting/flirting with Hank.
You think that *you* could kiss me really well, then?
Ah, a challenge, if a fairly innocent one. Alex is more than willing to rise to it (pun not intended). i know i could, mccoy. i could mess you up.
Another one word response, same as the last. How?
Alex's thumbs hesitate for a mere second before he types, i'd kiss you until your lips got swollen. you'd be panting & all rumpled up when i finished w/ your mouth, hank.
But you wouldn't be finished, would you? You don't seem like the type to end things with just kissing.
Oh, Hank has no idea. i wouldn't finish kissing you until you were naked, mccoy. & blushing & squirming. and i'm not talking about kissing your lips anymore.
There's a slight pause in between texts, and Alex glances nervously at his phone every few seconds until it lights up again with a message from bozo (shit, he should probably change that). The text reads, Where would you kiss me?
Ah, he's getting eager for more now. Alex is messing with Hank, messing with that careful, clean-cut persona, even if it's only through the phone. (Well, through the phone for now – there's no way he and Hank are going to be able to go back to being just casual acquaintances, not after this.) outside the school, in that parking lot behind the football field.
The next reply comes quickly. That's not what I meant, and you know it.
Pushy, pushy, Alex thinks with a smirk. your neck. your adam's apple. & i would bite on your collarbones, & your nipples, & hipbones. & i'd suck your cock.
He hits send and waits, and now, well, now he has mental images to occupy the short span of time between text messages. Hank's skin, covered in little pink-purple bite marks, and his legs, long and pale and sprawled across the back seat of a car or across a bed. Alex can only assume based on Hank's large hands and feet (and yeah, he notices these little things), but he's betting the guy is packing. As in, seriously big. And that's something that excites Alex, in a slightly-guilty-but-hell-yeah sort of way.
Would you let me come?
He's torn between biting his lip at the thought of Hank coming in his mouth (or maybe on his face? Oh, shit) and smirking, because he can perfectly picture how fucking red Hank's cheeks must be right now. He's a little surprised Hank didn't use the word 'orgasm' or even something like 'ejaculate' in his text, because Hank's the type to use big, nerdy words and shit. But that's okay, because Alex could (and would) have Hank reduced to near incoherency by the time he got done with the brunet. no, you'd have to hold off, because i want to fuck you.
There it is – not 'I would', but 'I want', because Alex is starting to want this more and more with each passing moment. He glances at the clock, and smiles, triumphant. Not too much longer in this period, and then the bell will ring, and he can find Hank and – well.
No, I want to fuck *you*. In the back seat of my car.
Well, shit. After school?
Yes. I want to bend you and fuck you until you can't see straight, Alex.
Alex swallows hard, then licks his lips, aroused now and still a little nervous, because damn it, Hank is better at sexting than he has any right to be, and because there's now a definite chance that Alex is going to have sex with Hank McCoy after school. Assuming Hank doesn't chicken out, but fuck it, he can't possibly, not if he wants it as bad as Alex bets he does. Hank's probably still a virgin – oh, shit. Alex can picture Hank's face, his big blue eyes heavy and dark and his hair all mussed, looking debauched and a little sweet even while fucking Alex raw, even while whispering dirty things in his ear –
i want you to make me come so hard i scream, hank. you think you can handle that?
I bet he can. Fuck, I bet his dick is phenomenal. Jesus fucking Christ. Alex is hornier than he probably should be, but damn it, he hasn't gotten anything in a while, and this is Hank, prim and proper Hank McCoy, who wants to fuck Alex like a slut in the backseat of his nice little car. Shit.
Minutes pass, and Alex stares at his phone, waiting. And waiting. And fucking waiting some more.
He glances at the clock. The period is nearly over. Maybe Hank went to the bathroom or something? Maybe Alex should meet him in the bathroom . . . but no, Frost wouldn't let him leave, damn her. He'll just have to wait out the last few minutes of class and track down Hank – unfortunately, he doesn't even know what class Hank's in this period, having neglected to ask. Alex hopes he's in Study Hall or some shit, because he'd really like to sit here and fantasize about sucking Hank off behind a bookshelf in the library.
Finally, the bell rings, and there's the typical rush to leave. Ms. Frost says something about five pages due on Thursday, but fuck that. Alex hesitates for a moment, and then it hits him – Raven.
He snatches up his notebook and catches her as she heads for the door. "Raven!"
"Yeah?" she says, turning her head to look at him. They're not close friends, but they know each other well enough that she's not surprised that he's speaking to her.
"Do you know what class Hank's leaving right now?" he asks. She stares at him, obviously confused.
"Yeah, German," she says, frowning. "Why? You better not be going to fuck with him, Alex –,"
Oh, I'm going to fuck with him, but not in the way you're thinking. "Nah, nothing like that," Alex says quickly. "Just need some help with my physics homework."
She seems to buy it (which is bullshit, because physics is, surprisingly, his best subject, thank you very much) and he hurries off, heading towards the Foreign Language classroom.
He waits a few feet away from the door, trying to seem casual about it, looking around for Hank. Hopefully he didn't dash off to his locker or something, because Alex will have to walk around and look for him if that's the case. Mr. Lehnsherr, the Foreign Language teacher, eyes him, and Alex is careful not to make eye contact with him (he's only aware of one person who isn't a little intimidated by Lehnsherr, and that's Charles Xavier – and really, it's obvious why).
Angel comes out of the classroom, running her fingers through her hair to comb it out of its mussed state.
"Fraulein Salvador," Mr. Lehnsherr says, raising an eyebrow at her. "Did you enjoy your nap?"
" . . . Uh, ja," Angel says, with a casual sort of smirk as she passes her teacher. She spots Alex as she walks by, and smiles. "Hey."
"Hey," he says, with a nod. "You seen McCoy, by any chance?"
Angel smirks and jerks her head in the direction of Mr. Lehnsherr's room. "He disappeared off to the bathroom after Herr Lehnsherr confiscated his cell phone. Poor guy, Lehnsherr had just woken me up from my usual nap and then he caught Hank sexting. Lehnsherr's pretty strict about phones, so, yeah. And napping, actually. Which sucks."
Alex's eyes widen, and he starts leading Angel away from Lehnsherr's classroom, lest the guy hear what she's telling Alex. But along comes Mr. Xavier, smiling pleasantly at everyone he passes, as usual. He's followed by Raven, who comes over to Angel and Alex while her older stepbrother heads to his fellow teacher. Around them, the hallway's begun to clear out.
Alex has heard horror stories about what Lehnsherr does when he catches someone texting or passing notes, and he needs to know beforehand if Hank's in the bathroom hyperventilating from embarrassment right now. "Tell me he didn't make Hank read the messages out loud."
"No, Lehnsherr read one out loud, and then he realized what exactly it said," Angel snickers. "Then he sort of . . . stared at Hank for a second, like he couldn't believe the kid was seriously sexting. I mean, I didn't believe it either, thought it must have been some kind of weird joke, but Hank turned as red as his sweater vest, so . . . Hank must be getting something from somewhere or another."
Raven looks aghast. "Poor Hank!"
Alex frankly doesn't give a fuck if Lehnsherr read one of the text messages – hell, the guy's probably already got Xavier bent over the desk by now, so whatever – but he knows that Hank is probably dying right now. "Uh, listen, I gotta go."
"Oh," Angel says, raising an eyebrow at him. "Later. Raven, can I hitch a ride?"
"Yeah, sure," Raven says a little too flippantly, smiling warmly at Angel.
Alex is momentarily curious about that, but, well, whatever. He heads down the hallway to the nearest bathroom, a smirk already working its way onto his face. He can't wait to see that blush of Hank's again in person.
After they drop by their respective lockers and start heading in the direction of the parking lot, Angel says to Raven, "You know what I think, Raven?"
Angel smirks and decides to blurt it out, just to see the look of surprise on Raven's face. "I think it was Alex sexting Hank."
Raven drops her Government textbook and gawps at Angel. "What?"
"Yeah! I mean, he came up to me looking for Hank, and then the look in his eyes when I told him Hank got caught sexting in class – priceless. Then he walks off the hallway and darts into the boy's bathroom. Two plus two equals gay sex, Raven."
Raven recovers slightly from her initial shock and bends to pick up her textbook, and yeah, okay, Angel allows herself a quick glance at those long, pale legs when Raven's not looking. "That's impossible. Alex is such a dick."
"But he likes dick, I know he does, he's pretty open about it most of the time. And we all know Hank is secretly a sex fiend underneath those knit sweaters."
Raven shakes her head. "No way! No. Way."
Angel grins. "Bet me."
Raven pauses, her blue eyes meeting Angel's brown ones, and then she rolls her eyes. "Your funeral. Bet."
"They're probably in the parking lot behind the football field. No one goes back there, not this time of year."
Raven sighs. "They're not making out behind the football field."
Angel grins. "We'll see about that."
"I told you," Angel snickers as they peer over at Hank's car from their position under the bleachers. Hank and Alex are visible through the windows, and they are most definitely making out. If Angel had to guess, she'd say things would be moving farther than that quite soon.
Raven bites her lip. "This is weird. I don't care that Hank's gay, or even if he's gay with Alex Summers, but it feels creepy to be spying on him like this."
Angel rolls her eyes. "Fine, let's go, then."
"Alright," Raven agrees, and they turn around and hurry away from the scene, although it's highly unlikely that either Hank or Alex would notice two people darting away from the car. Angel thinks a quick good luck wish towards the two of them, because damn it, they have the potential to be really cute together, if Alex tones down the dickery and Hank learns how to actually handle a relationship with another human being.
Once they make it to Raven's car and hop in, Angel says casually, "So, I won the bet."
Raven rolls her eyes again. "Somehow. I can't believe you were right."
Angel grins. "I have a way. Anyway, we never agreed what we were betting on."
Raven pauses, frowning, and then Angel reaches out and rests a hand on Raven's knee, and she gets it. ". . . Your house or mine?"
Angel grins. "Mine. Don't want to get caught by your brother."
Raven snorts. "Please. He's at a meeting with Erik – that is, Mr. Lehnsherr." She wiggles her eyebrows at the word 'meeting', grinning slyly.
Angel laughs. "Damn, I knew it!"
"Who doesn't know about them?"
". . . Good point."
A/N: Reviews are greatly appreciated.