RockStarPeach

Title: Fast Times at Sunnydale High

Pairings/Characters: Lots. Mainly Wes/Lindsey, Lindsey/Fred, Wes/Connor, Spike/Fred, Spike/Faith

Rating: Adult eventually, for language, sex, underage drinking and drugs

Summary: Wesley is a high school dork who has a crush on Lindsey, a cool kid with a girlfriend.

Previous Chapters Here

Banner made by the wonderful speak_me_fair


Manip by the lovely angelstoy


Thank you both! *hugs*

Chapter 4


Lindsey coasted his pick-up down the street and came to a stop along the curb just outside Fred’s house. It was Thursday afternoon and school had ended an hour ago, and after 45 minutes of sitting on the hill next to the football field out back of the school and holding hands, trading innocent kisses and absently watching the Sunnydale Razorbacks warm up, Lindsey had driven his girlfriend home.

“You sure you can’t come tonight?” she asked him again, expression slightly hopeful but mostly resigned. They’d planned to go out bowling with a few friends, and if Lindsey didn’t come then Fred would be the only single. It wasn’t a big deal, really, but it always made her feel a bit out of place on the rare occasions that everyone was paired off but her.

“Sorry, baby,” he said, left arm crossing the car to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. Her face was so pretty, it was a shame when anything covered it up. “I can’t. My daddy’ll kill me if I skip out on this fucked up history tutorial. Especially the first day.”

Lindsey had told her all about how his father was forcing him to get help until his grade improved, and she’d laughed almost as much as Angel had when he’d told him. The last person that needed any sort of academic help was Lindsey.

“So, who’s going to be tutoring you?” she asked, suppressing laughter.

He smiled. “Don’t know. All Snyder said was that he found someone and they were coming over tonight at 8.”

“Well, good luck, sweetie,” she told him, then leaned across the cabin to kiss him. It turned into more than either of them had intended, with tongues and hands and growing desire, and almost five minutes later she was practically climbing into the driver’s seat with him to get closer.

The gear shift poked her painfully in the hip mid-position change, and she pulled back, blushing and licking her lips. Lindsey panted lightly and resisted the urge to pull her across and continue what they’d been doing, but it was the middle of the day and they were just outside Fred’s parents house, so instead he looked up at her through his lowered lashes and grinned, wiping a stray bit of spit from the corner of her mouth with his thumb.

“I’ll miss you tonight,” she said, reaching down to grab her school bag from the floor.

“I miss you every night,” he answered and her blush grew as he kissed the tips of his own fingers before pressing them to her forehead.

“Fuck,” Lindsey swore under his breath, and pounded the steering wheel lightly with his palms after Fred had closed the truck door behind her and walked up the path to her front door.

He waited until she turned around and waved at him before waving back and then started the five minute drive back to his own house. This was such bullshit. He had to give up two hours a night, two nights a week to sit around and pretend to learn something he already knew, with someone that principal Snyder considered ‘smart’. Shit, he was not looking forward to it.

The house was quiet when he came in through the front door, but that wasn’t really surprising. He dropped his bag in the foyer, kicked off his shoes a padded through the hallway, past the living room and into the kitchen. It didn’t seem like anybody was home, not that he’d expected anybody to be.

His dad spent most of his time working, and his stepmother was far too busy enjoying her early 20’s to put in much of appearance at home when his dad wasn’t there to make it worth her while. She usually made him breakfast every morning, and kissed him goodbye when he left for school, and really liked being called ‘mom’, but the chances of him seeing her any other time that hadn’t been scheduled was slim.

There was a note on the table, plain white paper filled with cute little letters printed out in bright blue ink and he picked it up.

Dear Lindsey,

You’re father won’t be home tonight, and I’ll probably be home late. Have fun with your little friend. There’s lasagne in the fridge.

Love, mom.

He sighed and rolled his eyes fondly, opened up the fridge and tossed the clear plastic container filled with his dinner into the microwave.

***

“You’ve been ignoring me all week,” Spike said after he’d pushed open the door to Wesley’s bedroom and plopped down onto the foot of his bed, back resting against the wall and his feet crossed over each other on the blanketed mattress.

Wesley closed the book he’d been reading and placed it down on the table next to his bed. “No, I haven’t,” he disagreed, and scooted up a bit so that he was half sitting against his headboard, facing Spike.

“Yes, you have, Wes,” Spike insisted and lifted one of his legs to nudge his friend playfully in the calf. “We live together, go to the same school, have pretty much the same friends, and I haven’t seen you since Sunday. What’s going on?”

Spike knew exactly what was going on, but he could play innocent. Sometimes. When it suited him.

“I’m sorry, Spike,” Wesley said, shaking his head and sitting up even straighter. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately.” That, and he didn’t want to have to tell Spike what he’d done to Connor. He felt horrible about it, and it was going to be so much harder for him to tell him the truth and end things, now that he had to admit that there was something to end.

Spike snorted. “Like the fact that Lindsey knows you want to have his babies and the fact Connor thinks he wants to have yours?”

“Yes, that’s very helpful,” Wesley said, sarcastic. “Thank you.”

“Always here to help. Look, I’m sure you’ll work it all out,” Spike said, getting up and patting Wesley on his bare foot. “But I’ve gotta go. I’m heading over to Faith’s place to meet her and Connor and go over our set once more.”

Hellmouth was playing at the Bronze that night, actually getting paid, which didn’t happen more than once every couple of months, and they were pretty excited about it. Of course, they’d probably spend all the money they made on pizza and beer and some new piece of electronic equipment before the end of the weekend, but none of them was really in it for the money anyway.

Spike just had to phone home to England and his parents, who were rather something in the business world, would send over all the money he needed.

Connor lived with his folks, and was only 15 years old, and the only things he needed money for were the exact things he spent it on.

Faith, on the other hand, in order to keep herself in tinned soup and dried pasta, had to hold down two other jobs; working nights in a convenience store and days at the public Library. It seemed an odd choice or work from most peoples perspectives, but she liked the quiet.

“Alright,” Wesley said, visibly relieved that Spike was going to leave him alone. “Good luck. I suppose I’ll go grab something to eat and meet you at the Bronze later?”

Spike smiled that smile that made the bottom of Wesley’s stomach fall out, because it meant that Spike was up to something. “Sorry, Wes. You’re busy tonight.”

“What do you mean, ‘I’m busy’?” Wesley asked, panic increasing.

“Well,” Spike said, thinking about how he should really take his time when he explained it. It was going to be so much fun, after all. “Since you’ve been doing so well in history I decided to sign you up to tutor some poor moron who can’t seem to manage a passing grade.”

Wesley deflated and made the face of a kid who’s just been told to put on a nice outfit because they’re going to see their 90 year old grandmother in the nursing home.

“Spike, you didn’t.” He was pretty sure than Spike did, but it was worth a shot, hoping he was only kidding.

“Oh, I did.” He was ridiculously pleased with himself.

“You can’t, can you?” Wesley asked. He was pretty sure that if he was going to tutor someone, he’d have to agree to it first. Not that he was going to because he really didn’t do well with most people.

“Seems I can,” Spike said still smiling. “I told Snyder you were looking for something a little extra to put on your college applications, which I know is complete bullshit, since you’ve practically got the highest grades in school, but apparently it was good enough for him, because you’re starting tonight.”

“What the hell possessed you to do this? If I wanted to be involved in the tutoring program I’d have volunteered. You know that.”

“Well, this is a special case,” Spike said, eyes glowing with mischief. “I’m sure you’d have signed right up if you’d known about it.”

“What do you mean,” Wesley asked, cautiously curious. Spike was acting very strange, and it was making him more than a little apprehensive.

“Seems that one ‘Lindsey MacDonald’ is in need of someone with a big, giant brain to help teach him a little something about Christopher Columbus or the American Revolution or whatever the hell they learn in these shite schools.”

Wesley felt his heart speed up, and he was worried, for just about a second, that it would beat right out of his chest. “You’re not serious.”

“Why not? Like I said, looks great on the college apps, and you get to spend some one on one time with your sweetie!”

“Spike, fuck off! There is no way I’m…” Wesley trailed off, anger having reaching it’s peak and starting to be replaced by despair. “How could you do this to me?”

Well, shit. It was supposed to be a little bit funny and a little bit of a way to get back at Wesley and at Lindsey for what dicks they’d been lately, but Wesley looked close to tears and Spike never could handle it when he knew that Wesley’s feelings had been hurt.

Wesley was his best friend, Wesley confided in him, trusted him, and he wanted to kick himself, just a bit, for apparently going a little too far.

He walked over to Wesley’s side of the bed and pulled him up to standing with one arm. “Wes,” he said, simply, before pulling the brunet to him and wrapping his arms around him loosely, for only a second, and kissing him on the side of the head.

Wesley hugged back, just as briefly, because they didn’t usually show that much affection, even if they felt it, and Spike chuckled before giving Wesley a shove backward.

He felt bad, but not that bad. Really, it would be good for him, in the end. It would help him to realise that Lindsey was an actual person, a straight person, a person with a girlfriend, and not just the being of deluded sexual fantasy that Wesley had elevated him to. Also, it would be funny.

“Stop being such a girl,” he teased.

“I’m not doing it, Spike,” Wesley insisted. “You’ll have to call Snyder or… or Lindsey, or whatever and tell them to forget it.”

“Fine,” Spike shrugged. “I’ll just call Lindsey up and tell him you won’t be there because you can’t handle your love for him, and you can come with me to the gig tonight and have that talk with Connor.”

Wesley scowled, irritated that Spike had made two very good arguments for him going through with this ridiculous set-up, but the arguments were good enough that they kept him quiet.

“You’re so going to owe me for this,” Wesley mumbled, falling back down onto his bed.

“Oh, come on, Wes,” Spike said, eyes dancing. “it’s not so bad.”

Wesley thought that remained to be seen. In any case, he didn’t have much choice at the moment. “Fine,” he said, rolling his eyes. “But you’re not even close to off the hook for this.”

“Whatever you say, Wes,” Spike answered. “Give Lindsey a great big smooch for me, eh?”

He laughed and managed to make it out of the bedroom just before Wesley’s pillow collided with the recently closed door behind him.

***

Wesley pulled his father’s Volvo into the driveway of Lindsey’s home.

He took a minute to collect himself, right hand absently straying over to the passenger seat to make sure he had his backpack, filled with his history notes, and text and an excessive number of pens and highlighters.

He could do this. He could absolutely do this. He wouldn’t stumble all over his own tongue and stare like a love-sick puppy and avoid Lindsey’s eyes and beg the other boy to take him right there in the doorway.

Lindsey had been pretty nice to him since he’d found out about Wesley’s crush, and if he had agreed to this, then he would probably continue to be nice to him, so Wesley really had nothing to worry about.

Right. He nodded.

That decided, he got out of the car, bag thrown over one shoulder and marched as bravely as he could manage, up the driveway and to the front door.

He took a breath, knocked and waited.

***

Lindsey heard the knock at the door and flicked off the television, getting up from the living room couch to go and answer it. It was exactly 8:00 and whoever the hell Snyder had found for him was irritatingly punctual.

He really didn’t want to do this, but he supposed that bitching about it in his own head wasn’t going to get him anywhere, so he might as well just open the door, paste on a smile, and get this shit over with.

The knob twisted in his hand and the door wrenched open under the force of his pull, and he came face to face with Wesley. Wesley, who he’d recently discovered harboured secret, illicit fantasies about him, and who he had been trying to make nice with even though it was a little weird, and who apparently didn’t care that he wasn’t gay and had a girlfriend because he’d decided that showing up at Lindsey’s house was a good idea for some probably completely fucked up reason.

“Hello, Lindsey,” Wesley said, proud of himself for sounding so calm.

“Wes,” Lindsey started. “What the hell are you doing here?” Now was so not the time for a little bit of friendly stalking. Not with his tutor on the way, to see Wesley there and start another round of rumours.

“What do you mean?” Wesley asked, face contorted in confusion. “I was under the impression you were aware I was coming by tonight.”

“Uh… what for?” Lindsey was aware that good manners dictated that he should have invited Wesley in by now, regardless of the reason for his visit, but he wasn’t paying any attention to that at the moment.

“For helping you out with history?” Wesley asked, as if it were a question, and cursed himself not being more self-assured.

Lindsey blinked, twice and shook his head. That possibility hadn’t even occurred to him, and he was kicking himself now for being so rude and not putting two and together in the first place.

“Fuck, sorry,” he said, stepping back from the entryway. “Come on in.”

“No, I…” Wesley said, losing any of the braveness that he might have mustered. “You clearly weren’t expecting me. I’ll go.” If Spike had made this whole thing up as some sort of incredibly mean, incredibly not funny, practical joke, Wesley was going to kill him.

“No,” Lindsey assured him, trying to sound welcoming, even though he wasn’t exactly feeling that way. Just because Wesley had a legitimate reason for being there at the moment didn’t mean he didn’t take the tutoring gig just to get close to him. “No, it’s just Snyder didn’t tell me who was coming over, just that somebody was. Come in. Really.”

Wesley looked sceptical but followed Lindsey into the house anyway.

“Well, we’re in the same boat then,” he said as Lindsey took his jacket and hung it up in the hall closet. “Spike signed me up for this,” he said at Lindsey’s questioning look. “Didn’t tell me about it until three hours ago. Prick.”

They stood in the hall, not looking at each other but pretending that it wasn’t on purpose, for several long seconds as Lindsey tried to mentally size up Wesley’s motives and decide whether or not he was telling the truth about Spike, and Wesley tried to will a giant hole to suddenly appear in the floor and swallow him up.

“I should really go,” Wesley finally said. “I’m sure you’d be much more comfortable with someone else helping you. I’m sorry I… Sorry.”

Lindsey was half tempted to let him go, but he was already here and the big orange sticky note outside the principal’s office that announced how stupid Lindsey was had been taken down now, and if Wesley left it would just go right back up again until someone else answered the ad.

And he was pretty sure that Wesley probably wasn’t lying. Throwing the two of them together like this without any warning sounded a hell of a lot like something Spike would do. Or, he thought it did. He didn’t really know him all that well, but from what he did know, Spike was an ass.

“Stay,” Lindsey insisted, offering a half smile. “You’re as good anybody else, right?”

“Er… I suppose,” was Wesley’s less than confidant reply. “So. Where should we sit?”

Lindsey led him in to the kitchen where he nodded at one sturdy oak chair indicating that Wes should sit down, and took a seat of his own on the opposite side of the table.

“This alright?” Lindsey asked, pushing back in his chair and stretching out his legs crossing his ankles over each other.

“Um, sure,” Wesley answered, frowning. He opened up his book bag and started to pull out some notes, trying desperately not to think about the way Lindsey’s voice sounded in his ears, rough and smooth and sexy. He looked back up at him, and wondered out loud, “Where are your books?”

Lindsey smiled and drummed a random pattern on the wood of the table with his thumbs. “I don’t need any.”

Now that he’d spent more than 30 seconds in Lindsey’s company and said more than 10 words to him in one stretch, the boy was starting to remind him an awful lot of Spike. No wonder he’d developed such a crush.

“If that’s how you’ve been studying than it’s a small wonder that you need help,” Wesley told him, coming off as slightly superior even though he didn’t mean it that way. He couldn’t help it. It was what he did.

Lindsey let out a small laugh and shook his head. Wesley was... actually sort of cute. And there was that stupid-ass thought again. “No,” he said. “I don’t need any books, because I’m not actually gonna study.”

Wesley looked at him quizzically and just about managed not to mentally unbutton Lindsey’s long-sleeved burgundy shirt. “Then what am I doing here?” The idea that this was some sort of joke hadn’t gone far from Wesley’s thoughts, and he was tense, waiting for the punch line.

“I know all about history,” Lindsey told him. “I probably know more about it than you do. I’m not stupid, and I don’t need anybody’s help with anything even remotely academic.”

“Again, I ask,” Wesley said, becoming frustrated. “Why am I here?”

“I’m getting a D in history,” Lindsey started to explain, and Wesley’s face was still a question. “It’s only because I haven’t been bothered to actually hand in any of the shitty-ass assignments the teacher gets off on so much, but my daddy says I have to get a tutor until my grade turns into a B. And that’ll happen as soon as I ace the final exam.”

“So, I’m supposed to do what, exactly?” Wesley asked him.

“Hang out with me twice a week and pretend we’re actually getting some work done to get my dad off my case.”

Spend two nights a week with Lindsey until the end of the semester and not even have to do any schoolwork while he did? It was like a dream come true for Wesley! He stopped himself from jumping up and shouting his agreement, just barely, and instead just pushed his books back into his bag and nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “I guess I could do that. Since, you know, I’ll get to put it on my college applications anyway, whether we actually study or not.”

Lindsey smiled. Sure. That was why Wesley had agreed so quickly. It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the way the other boy’s eyes kept drifting down his neck and over his chest, practically burning a hole through his shirt.

Almost another minute passed in silence, both of them alternating their gazes between the table top, Wesley’s bag and their own hands. It was fucking awkward.

Lindsey had never had a problem finding something to say before, never felt out of place with a boy his own age, in his own home, but he’d also never been alone with a boy that wanted to have sex with him before. At least, not that he knew about. And it was kind of throwing off his usual air of calm, cool and collected.

Wesley wasn’t usually one to keep his mouth shut, preferring to prattle on endlessly about things that most people didn’t care about, and make no secret of the fact that he knew a lot more about those things than others. But, even if it was an exercise in futility, he was hoping to impress Lindsey, and opening his mouth probably wouldn’t accomplish that tonight.

“Do you want something to drink?” Lindsey offered, for lack of anything better to say.

Wesley’s head snapped up at the question that abruptly pulled him from his thoughts. “No, thank you,” he answered with a tight smile and looked down to where his fingers were playing over the zipper of his bag.

Another minute passed.

“Something to eat?”

“Thanks, I’m fine.”

Another minute.

“Look, this is dumb,” Lindsey pointed out, and Wesley couldn’t help but agree. “You can leave if you really want.” Lindsey knew he would just have to find someone else to not stare at across the table but it couldn’t be any worse than this.

“No!” Wesley blurted, and mentally swore at himself. “I mean, no. I agreed to help.” This was painful, but now that the opportunity was there, he was looking forward to spending some time with Lindsey. Also, he thought that if he left now, like this, he would look like ten kinds of fool in front the boy he so desired, with likely no chance of ever making up for it.

“And I appreciate that, Wes. Really,” Lindsey told him. “But we can’t spend two nights a week for the next month and a half staring at our shoes, can we?” The way his eyes twinkled with humour took some of the sting out of his words, but not all of it.

“Yes, sorry, you’re right,” Wesley said, feeling entirely foolish. “It’s just... I suppose I feel a bit awkward. We don’t even know each other.” Yes, that, and it’s hard to feel comfortable when the person sitting across from you knows that you want to suck their brains out through their cock.

Lindsey quirked an eyebrow and held out his hand to Wesley across the table. “Hi,” he said, warm and friendly. “I’m Lindsey.”

“Funny,” Wesley said, deadpan, but took Lindsey’s hand anyway. It was the first time they’d touched. Ever. And it was entirely underwhelming. Wesley didn’t know what he had been expecting; sparks, fireworks, him swooning like a little girl, but Lindsey’s hand felt like anybody else’s ever had.

It was prettier of course, and more calloused on the fingers from playing guitar, and it was attached to Lindsey, so that gave it a huge advantage over most, but on the whole, it was completely average.

Wesley wasn’t sure why, but suddenly he felt a lot better about things.

They spent the remaining hour and 45 minutes getting to know each other in that sort of trivial way that people did when they were mostly just trying to be polite. The conversation wasn’t exactly strained, but neither of them felt comfortable opening up about anything personal so they stuck to the basics.

They talked about school, and what teachers they liked and didn’t. They talked about their friends, and their hobbies, Lindsey’s band and Wesley’s books. They talked about music and movies and the beat up old house down the road that some of the kids said was haunted. And they talked about how each of them came to by living in Sunnydale.

Wesley told Lindsey about his parent’s divorce, and how his father worked in advertising had to travel around California quite a bit, so Sunnydale was as good a place as any to end up, considering he wasn’t home half the time anyway.

Lindsey told Wesley about his daddy being a lawyer and getting a promotion in LA, so they’d moved in from Texas. He’d met and married Lindsey’s stepmom and wanted to keep them both a safe distance from Wolfram and Hart for some reason, probably so he could get away with sleeping at the office so often, but Lindsey didn’t really know, so they’d ended up in Sunnydale.

The evening actually rolled on pretty smoothly, considering how it had started out. Wesley was happy not to be making an arse of himself, and Lindsey was pleasantly surprised that when Wesley got to talking and forgot about being nervous, he wasn’t nearly as much as a dweeb as Lindsey, and everyone else, thought he was.

Lindsey didn’t want to admit it, but he’d caught himself, once, and only for a short time, as Wesley assured him there was no such thing as ghosts, and anyone who thought there was, was in serious need of psychiatric help, that Wesley was actually pretty good looking.

Under his geeky exterior, the too-short hair, the over-starched shirts and the glasses, he was probably a seriously hot little bastard.

But the thought hadn’t lasted for long before Lindsey forced himself to think of something else. Just because the guy wanted him, didn’t mean he had to go and start reciprocating.

Ten o’clock came just fast enough for both of them, and as soon the two hours was up, Wesley was halfway out the door, wanting to get to his car and get home. It hadn’t been that bad, really, but they were both kind of glad that it was over. At least until Monday.

***

“Hey baby,” Lindsey said into the receiver as he sprawled out on the couch in the living room, tossing the remote control for the television around in his hand. “How was bowling?”

“Oh, it was fun!” Fred said excitedly. She’d only just gotten home a few minutes ago and was looking for a snack before bed. “Angel won, of course, but at least I kicked Doyle’s ass!”

“Course you did, baby,” he said with a fond chuckle. “Doyle’s the shittiest bowler I’ve ever met.”

“So what’s up?” she asked, taking a jar of peanut butter out of the fridge and grabbing a spoon from the drawer next to it. “You don’t usually call at night.”

No, he didn’t, but for some reason he’d wanted to tonight. “Nothin’s up,” he said. “Just wanted to say goodnight, hear your voice before bed.”

“Awww, that’s sweet,” she gushed, but still couldn’t help thinking it was a little odd. “Well, goodnight!”

“Night, babe,” he answered with affection, and hung up.

He flicked on the television and scanned through a couple of channels, stopping when he saw the familiar face of Drew Carey on the screen. Sweet. Whose Line is it Anyway was one of Lindsey’s favourite shows, and he tossed the remote down on the floor and settled back to watch.

He would have preferred to have been out with his friends tonight, but all in all, it hadn’t been nearly as horrible as he thought it was going to be.

TBC