I've already got this bouncing around the Bully BL Livejournal but I figured I'd throw this up here too.

Warnings for homphobia and slash.


Wreck


Gary was in a mood again. Gary was always in a mood. His life was a string of ups and downs in a world where he saw everyone as counters in a game that existed just for his amusement, and half the time he still hated the rules, players and especially the dice that controlled it.

"Gooood day, Petey," he cat-called in the warm quiet of the afternoon; in this heat most people were outside, and even Pete had shed his Bullworth jumper, just his pink shirt and slacks as he laid across the dorm sofa and stared up at the ceiling. "Why, you're looking extraordinarily effeminate today. Your fainting couch awaits," he concluded with an elaborate gesture, and Pete sat up with an almost guilty air.

"Whatever, Gary," he said sourly.

"You've got to flaunt it if you want to get it," Gary taunted, as a greaser wandered in, kicked a can out of the vending machine and back out again. Gary watched him with hawk eyes, feigning surprise and delight the moment the boy turned his back. "Good taste, Petey," he continued mercilessly. "He didn't look this time, but undo a few buttons and you'll have him next time for sure."

"Leave off," Pete mumbled. He didn't choose to wear pink shirts, his mother just put a red dress in with his school uniform a long time ago and they'd all been like that ever since. He didn't want to admit to the mistake, so had passed it off as a fashion choice.

"So surly," Gary tutted. "You'll never get a nice boy like that, lil' petey."

"I don't want a nice boy," Pete retorted.

"Ohh, a bad boy then," Gary mocked. "One who'll pull your hair and tell you how pathetic you are as he-"

"Ahhh!" Pete interjected, yelping and putting his hands over his ears. "I don't wanna know!"

"You'll have to know eventually," Gary argued. "How else will you be able to consummate your fragile forbidden faggotry," he added, seeming pleased with the alliteration.

"I'm not gay," Pete protested, and Gary laughed hysterically, like he'd been gassed or something.

"Why deny it?" he challenged, as the door of J. Hopkins's room swung open and Jimmy strolled out in three-quarter lengths, a black vest and not much else. "You can't expect to engage in your disgusting perversion if you don't at least admit to wanting it."

"Whose disgusting perversion?" Jimmy echoed critically, spying Gary on the warpath from ten feet away.

"Ah! Speak of the devil, and lo he will appear," Gary cheered, throwing up his hands like a preacher. "Now, Petey," he said with a conspiratorial air, leaning close to the boy and throwing an arm around his neck. "You should be taking notes from someone like Jimmy. Maybe even taking his co-"

"I'm not gay!" Pete cried again, jostling Gary away from him and then noticing Jimmy's eyes on him, eyebrows slightly raised; even Jimmy didn't believe him.

"So all of those male underwear magazines just appeared in your room?" Gary provoked.

"You put them there!"

"To encourage you, Petey, to help you see the truth of your sickness."

"Gary why don't you shut the fuck up," Jimmy said suddenly, his voice slamming out like a hammer across the room. Gary turned to face him with a face like thunder, eyes like hard, polished stones spat out from a volcano.

"Sticking up for him, James?" Gary questioned with a quiet, threatening tone. "Funny, I don't see a white horse between your legs. Is it waiting at the back of the line to get there?"

"Petey's not sick, and he can fuck who he wants," Jimmy said bluntly, wandering across to the soda machine like Gary wasn't trying to burn him up with just a glare. Things hadn't been the same since the fight with Russell; more and more people liked Jimmy, and it only made Gary madder.

"Ah yes, the great enlightened motto of J. Hopkins," Gary proclaimed. "Have you ever considered a career in giftcard mottos?"

"I'm just sayin', it ain't none of your business who he wants to fuck," Jimmy said stubbornly, and Pete wished he could just melt away and soak into the sofa; he didn't need Jimmy trying to stick up for him because even he thought he was gay too.

"Jimmy, it's okay, I'm not actually gay-" he started to say in as convincing a voice as he could manage.

"I don't remember askin' you that," Jimmy snapped back brutally, his eyes riveting back on Gary. "I just don't like hearing this piece of slime talk shit about what's someone's personal business."

"Except for the person you're putting that diseased swizzle-stick into," Gary retorted with a sort of furious glee, as if he enjoyed being made so incarnately angry. Jimmy was one of the only people stupid and aggressive enough to try and go up against him. "I'd consider it their business."

"Sure," Jimmy agreed, and then looked down at the front of his pants, as if to check them, "but I don't appear to be fucking you, Gary, so I'd consider it your place to shut your damn mouth for once."

"Was that an invitation?" he shot with twisted delight.

"Fuck no," Jimmy growled.

"And really, here I thought you'd go for anything with a pulse," Gary leered. "Girl, boy... mammal..."

"Yeah, sure," said Jimmy, "but I don't figure you fall under any of those, Gary."

"I suppose I do have more of a godlike aura," he lorded. "I certainly seem to be the only male left in this school without any kind of depraved urges."

"You're kidding, right? You're the most depraved of the lot," Jimmy snorted.

"And here I thought the mark of depravity was letting you put your dick in them," Gary purred venomously. "Have you been molesting me in my sleep or something? Wouldn't put it past you."

"Like I'd be that desperate," Jimmy said boredly.

"No, I suppose you have all your little fags lined up, just waiting for a chance to-"

"You call me or anyone else a fag again and I'll put your head through that fucking window, Gary," Jimmy snarled suddenly, and it occurred to Pete that he wasn't just trying to pick a fight because Gary had been teasing him - that it was about more than that. That maybe it was personal.

"But you are, aren't you?" Gary gloated. "Or should I ask Trent... or Gord... or Vance. I really can't keep track, which one is it currently?" Pete had seen Jimmy hanging out with those guys before, but Jimmy hung out with everyone, so why pick them? All the girls liked Jimmy, they even got into fights about who he liked most - he couldn't be-

"None of your damn business," Jimmy countered. "Who I'm fucking is the business of me and that person, Gary, so unless you'd like to hop on then you can just shut the hell up," he concluded with a crude gesture at his crotch, presenting it like a spare seat in the canteen.

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Gary spat like he had a mouth full of broken glass.

"Not as much as you fuckin' would," Jimmy bit back, totally deadpan and not a hint of hesitation in his voice. "Petey, you shouldn't listen to this prick," he said anew, speaking straight through Gary like he'd vanished in a split second. He checked the clock on the wall, punched the buttons on the vending machine for another soda, and then cracked it with a snap, letting the foam overflow and run out onto the floor.

"Practicing for later?" Gary taunted, and Jimmy drained the contents of the can in a few gulps. "Oh, you are practicing," he added lewdly, while Jimmy crushed the can in his hand and then threw it at Gary's head, who swatted it aside like a fly.

"Gary, you can shut the fuck up, or I can put your face through a window. The choice really is yours," he announced uninterestedly, as a couple of bullies wandered through and checked in on Jimmy, looking for a nod of approval like pack dogs bowing down to the boss. Gary eyed them enviously, as if it should to be him they looked at for recognition.

"I'll leave you girls alone," he purred sarcastically, not totally managing to disguise his bitterness, and making a mockery of a bow and then some dick-sucking actions as he backed away, before finally turning away to find some other poor bastard to pick on.

"What an asshole," Jimmy muttered, stretching out in the space on the sofa and edging Pete further into the side.

"You didn't have to do that, Jimmy," he said quietly.

"Do what?" he asked dumbly.

"Stick up for me like that... I mean, you didn't have to say-"

"Who said I was sticking up for you?" Jimmy interrupted. "I just don't like it when he goes around callin' people names like they're sick or something. He's the one who's fucked in the head," he proclaimed.

"So you... meant... all that stuff?" Pete inquired as coolly as he could manage.

"What stuff?"

"About, uh... about you... and... you know-"

"What are you trying to get at, Petey? That I'll fool around with anyone?" he suggested crudely.

"No! I didn't-" he tried to backtrack desperately.

"Well... I pretty much will," Jimmy replied casually, an open admission. "A fuck's a fuck," he added with a shrug.

"You mean like... girls, right?" Pete say awkwardly, and Jimmy raised an eyebrow at him.

"The fuck do you think I do with guys back in my room?" he challenged. "Play chess?" Pete knew that some of the guys in the dorm didn't always spend all the night in their rooms, but he put it down to some kind of clique-ruling stuff. His eyes must have boggled, because Jimmy gave him a look and started to laugh. "Don't you listen to any of the rumours?" he chuckled.

"What rumours? No one tells me anything!" Pete protested, and Jimmy sniggered again.

"Holy shit, Petey, I knew you were naive... but really," he snorted. "Gary might be a fuck, but he wasn't making shit up about Gord and Vance and those other dudes. Hell, Lola dropped me because she didn't like that I'd blow her off for guys... and that guys blew her off for me," he added offhandedly. "Actually, I think that pissed her off more," he added with a dirty chuckle. "Well shit, you could try to look less surprised," he commented.

"Sorry!" Pete yelped. "I mean, I didn't- I wasn't!"

"Calm the fuck down," Jimmy said jokingly, as one of the bullies, Trent, walked through.

"Heeey, Jimmy," he slurred, going straight over to the sofa as Jimmy held up a hand; they bumped fists and then drew fingertips across one another's palm, pulling out into a snap. Jimmy looked back at Pete, and then a wicked smirk spread across his face as Trent strolled over to the games machine and started pounding at the buttons.

"Hey, Trent," he called out, leaning back all the way over one end of the sofa and stared at him upside-down. "C'mere a sec." Trent turned and returned curiously, while Jimmy picked his head up to wink at Pete, then leant back again. "Gimmie some love, man," he baited, and Trent looked at him suspiciously, then across at Pete. "Forget about him, he's cool," Jimmy insisted with a grin, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. "What, you chicken-shit or something?"

"Fuck no," Trent bit, and then in a sudden movement leant all the way over and kissed Jimmy right on the mouth. The second he did Jimmy's hands moved, one grabbing a fistful of Trent's hair and pulling him down hard, twisting his head aside and sticking his tongue right into the bully's mouth. Pete had never felt so uncomfortable in his life, but at the same time he couldn't help but notice how natural it seemed to Jimmy - the confidence, the crooked grin on his lips as he released Trent and let him stand back up.

"See ya, sugar," he said with faux-sweetness, and Trent scowled a bit.

"You owe me for that," he muttered.

"Sure thing, baby, I'll make it up to you," Jimmy purred, giving Trent the wink this time. "My room, nine 'o clock." For a moment it was quiet, like the cogs in the other guy's head were turning at their slow, brain-damaged rate.

"Yeah, okay," Trent conceded, and then turned to wander back out.

"You look like you seen a ghost, Petey," Jimmy taunted, and then his gaze turned cruel. "You got a problem with what you just saw?" he challenged with a deadly edge in his voice.

"No!" he rushed with a bit of a squeak. "I mean- if that's what you... I don't have a problem. Not at all."

"Good," Jimmy replied surely. "That's what I like to hear. So Gary can go fuck himself, right?" he suggested sharply.

"Right," Pete agreed.

"-Cause no one else will do it for him," Jimmy continued, and then cracked up at his own joke. Pete tried to laugh, but it didn't really work out. "Shit, man, you got to fuckin' relax," Jimmy commented. "You look like you're about to puke or something."

"I'm f-fine," he mumbled.

"Maybe you do need to get laid or something," he joshed. "What are you into? Girls? Boys?" he suggested brightly - there was clearly no difference for him between the two. Pete mumbled so softly even he barely understood what he was saying. "What? Speak up."

"I dunno," Pete murmured awkwardly, going even redder in the heat.

"Whaddya mean you don't know?" he shot. "Ain't it simple? You wanna screw chicks or dicks? How hard can it be?"

"Maybe it's simple for you!" he snapped, and then caught himself. Jimmy looked surprised as fuck. Pete wondered if he should run now and try to escape the beating that was bound to come, or just accept it as an inevitability.

"All right, Petey, take it easy," he placated, which was not the reaction Pete had been expecting. "Your business is your business, I was just askin'."

"Sorry, Jimmy," he said weakly. "I didn't mean to go at you."

"It's cool," he said. "So, what, you just not decided yet or something?"

"I said I don't know," he bit. "I mean, I don't like anyone at this school... not that way, yunno. They're all just as horrible as each other." Why would he like anyone at Bullworth? Gary and Jimmy were the only ones even reasonably nice to him, and Gary was a total psychopath - Jimmy wasn't much better. The girls ignored him or made fun of him, even the nerds picked on him if they had numbers on their side. He couldn't think of anything worse than touching one of them any more than he had to.

"What, me too?" Jimmy challenged, the question loaded like a bottle-rocket.

"Well not you," he replied, "but I mean... that doesn't mean I wanna, you know..."

"You don't wanna 'you know' with me," Jimmy mocked. "So where do like, handjobs fall in that category?"

"Jimmy!" he shot.

"I'm just askin'," he taunted. "I don't know what your crazy innuendos mean."

"Well yes... that's included," he forced uncomfortably.

"Okay... so... you don't wanna give me a handjob?" Jimmy phrased bluntly, clearly bucking for a reaction going by the look of dumb amusement on his face. "I mean, Trent isn't gonna be around til nine, and I got all afternoon off."

"No!" Pete rushed, mortified by the very idea, while Jimmy was quiet only for dramatic effect.

"... And you don't want me to give you one either?" he added, as if that were another matter entirely.

"No!" Pete squawked again. "Isn't that the same thing?"

"You try it and tell me," Jimmy taunted, letting out a laugh. "You're going red, Petey," he mocked.

"You're saying weird stuff," he replied.

"Oh, sorry," Jimmy said with a voice like acid. "Didn't realise it was weird - if you're gonna be like Gary..."

"I'm not like Gary," he argued irately. "I just... you're making this difficult on purpose!" he accused. "Just because I don't want you to... if I was going to do something with someone, I'd want it to be special," he blurted at last, and Jimmy ruffled like he'd won a fight somehow.

"Ohhh, waiting for 'the one'?" he suggested sarcastically. He would be jaded, with his home life; Pete had heard about Jimmy's mom and the endless train of stepdads, he wasn't that far out of the loop.

"I dunno, I guess," he mumbled, staring down at his hands like they might somehow get him out of the situation.

"I could make it special," said Jimmy offhandedly, and Pete glanced up at him with a dry look.

"Very funny, Jimmy," he said coldly.

"Hey, I'm serious," he protested. "Why not?"

"You don't like me," Pete pointed out.

"I don't like a lot of people," he retorted. "I'll still screw around with'em."

"Wow, really romantic," he sniped.

"Ohh, sorry, princess," Jimmy taunted. "No wonder you're so uptight, if you're gonna be like this about getting off."

"Not everyone's obsessed with... getting off," he mimicked poorly.

"What, you more interested in homework or something?" suggested Jimmy.

"I don't wanna talk about it any more," Pete said bluntly, and Jimmy rolled his eyes.

"Okay, man, fine, whatever," he shrugged, kicking back further and staring up at the ceiling. "This is fucking boring," he said a minute or two later.

"Sorry," Pete said glumly.

"Whatever, not like you made the day this dull," Jimmy muttered, getting up and stretching out, punching the air a few times like he'd welcome a fight to break the monotony up. "I'm gonna head into town," he announced, and then looked at Pete like he was waiting for a reaction.

"... And?" Pete said.

"Well, are you comin?" Jimmy spat.

"What?" he blurted. "You want me to go with you?"

"Well you said handjobs are out of the question and I wasn't expecting you to just stand by the window and blow kisses," Jimmy remarked sarcastically.

"You never ask me to go anywhere," Pete said.

"Sure I do," he replied.

"No, you don't," he insisted. "You get an idea then run off and leave me."

"Well you can sit here and bitch or we can actually go," Jimmy snapped, and Pete just looked flushed and awkward. "I'm not asking you on a damn date or anything," he added, and the embarrassment just polarised.

"I didn't! I wasn't thinking-"

"So get your shit together and come or don't," Jimmy put to him bluntly, wriggling his bare toes against the rug. "I'm going in ten minutes, you can be there if you want," he stated, and then stomped off to his room in his alpha-male way. Pete sat and stared at the space Jimmy had been in for a moment, then bounced up and rushed into his room, throwing on some of his nicer clothes to go out in and wondering exactly what the hell he was getting himself into.