Title: Learning Curve
Rating: R
Author: Jen
Summary: Andrew has questions.
Disclaim-a-rama: The voices made me do it.
Author's note: Set shortly after the end of 'Life Serial'.
~~~~~
"So what does it mean?" The catch in Andrew's lethargic, hesitant voice easily betrayed the casualness his body language was meant to signify. He perched on the edge of Warren's desk, picking up some scrap of wire and peeling away the insulation like it was a skinny green banana. Warren didn't need the wire, but Andrew's presumption had him tempted to snatch it back anyway. He sighed, but finished the sentence he was writing before he spoke.
"What's what mean?" He didn't bother to look up. If Andrew wanted to play like this was nothing important, then Warren wasn't going to complain.
"You know." Andrew refused to take his eyes off the wire he still twirled between his fingers. "Home...homer-phobia."
Warren could not contain a snort of laughter, but he did not regret it either.
"You're kidding, right?" He swivelled in his chair to shoot a look of disbelief at Jonathan. The third member of the trio was huddled in one of the faux-leather loungers in the corner by what used to be their gaming table, but was now their strategising table. Evidently still smarting from his encounter with the Slayer, he looked half asleep but managed a lazy shrug in response to Warren's enquiry.
When he turned back, Andrew's face had slipped into a pout, his standard first response when he realised he was being made fun of.
"I know what it *means*." The whine, for once, only added to Warren's amusement. "I just... What does it mean about - about someone who might have it?" He managed to make the last part sound suitably indignant, but the pout was still there. "Not me. 'Cause I don't. But you know, if someone did, what do *you* think it might mean about them?"
For a moment, Warren could only stare at the boy sitting on his desk, as though Andrew had just asked him to explain how to work the TV remote. Finally, unable to find a suitably withering reply, he spun his chair around to face Jonathan again. Unfortunately his only ally against overwhelming naivety had apparently zonked out, the animal-print throw he'd brought from the van pooled in a wrinkled mess over his lap.
Warren allowed himself another sigh and stood, pinching the bridge of his nose in anticipation of a major headache. When he looked at Andrew, he fixed the boy with the kind of resolute gaze he might have used to explain 'sit' to an untrained puppy.
"It means you're gay," he announced, punctuating the sentence with a perfunctory nod of his head.
The shift in Andrew's expression seemed to have been screened in super-slow-mo, as the thought registered visibly inside his muddled mind. Warren wished he'd had a camera to hand to capture it.
"I am not gay!" The pout was back in full force, emphasised with a stamp of his right foot. Not one to miss an opportunity, Warren stepped closer.
"Sure it does," he countered as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It means you get all wigged 'cause you don't want anyone to know you're a fruit." He tipped his head back slightly so that he could look down his nose at Andrew. The boy squirmed under his gaze, trying to back up despite the desk behind him. Warren moved closer still.
"Now, I'm not saying it's a bad thing," he continued. It was tough not to laugh out loud at the look of frightened outrage on Andrew's face, but he persevered. "I mean, nothing wrong with it, right?" His knees were brushing Andrew's knees now as the kid tried to scoot further back on to the desk. "You can tell us if you are."
"I am not!" Andrew was verging on hysterical. Warren wondered how much more it would take to make him cry.
He experimented with a hand on Andrew's hip. The boy jumped like they'd made a static shock, but Warren refused to pull back. When he was satisfied that his target couldn't get away, he slid that hand down Andrew's thigh until his fingers brushed the inseam of Andrew's pants.
Andrew had evidently figured out that he couldn't back up any more, and had resorted to merely looking scared witless.
"Don't..." was all he could muster in response to the soft but insistent pressure Warren was now applying.
"Come on," he breathed in a deadly whisper, "it's okay if you like it." He watched with surprised satisfaction as Andrew's eyes slid closed, whether in avoidance or arousal he couldn't tell, but it didn't matter. Andrew wasn't making a move to push his hand away.
"Warren, cut it out." Jonathan's words pulled him away from Andrew and back into the lair. When he turned to look, it was tough to tell if Jonathan was even awake, until he shifted in his chair and pulled the animal-print throw up to his shoulders. He glared at them, until Warren reluctantly stepped away from Andrew, then dropped his head and closed his eyes once more. Warren guessed his interruption was more about snarking at him than about sticking up for Andrew, but he didn't want to have to deal with pissed-Jonathan *and* pissed-Andrew, so he acquiesced and made a show of leaving Andrew alone, crossing the room and fixing his attention on the bookshelves. He didn't mind so much. There was plenty more mileage to be had from this one.
~~~~~
tbc
Rating: R
Author: Jen
Summary: Andrew has questions.
Disclaim-a-rama: The voices made me do it.
Author's note: Set shortly after the end of 'Life Serial'.
~~~~~
"So what does it mean?" The catch in Andrew's lethargic, hesitant voice easily betrayed the casualness his body language was meant to signify. He perched on the edge of Warren's desk, picking up some scrap of wire and peeling away the insulation like it was a skinny green banana. Warren didn't need the wire, but Andrew's presumption had him tempted to snatch it back anyway. He sighed, but finished the sentence he was writing before he spoke.
"What's what mean?" He didn't bother to look up. If Andrew wanted to play like this was nothing important, then Warren wasn't going to complain.
"You know." Andrew refused to take his eyes off the wire he still twirled between his fingers. "Home...homer-phobia."
Warren could not contain a snort of laughter, but he did not regret it either.
"You're kidding, right?" He swivelled in his chair to shoot a look of disbelief at Jonathan. The third member of the trio was huddled in one of the faux-leather loungers in the corner by what used to be their gaming table, but was now their strategising table. Evidently still smarting from his encounter with the Slayer, he looked half asleep but managed a lazy shrug in response to Warren's enquiry.
When he turned back, Andrew's face had slipped into a pout, his standard first response when he realised he was being made fun of.
"I know what it *means*." The whine, for once, only added to Warren's amusement. "I just... What does it mean about - about someone who might have it?" He managed to make the last part sound suitably indignant, but the pout was still there. "Not me. 'Cause I don't. But you know, if someone did, what do *you* think it might mean about them?"
For a moment, Warren could only stare at the boy sitting on his desk, as though Andrew had just asked him to explain how to work the TV remote. Finally, unable to find a suitably withering reply, he spun his chair around to face Jonathan again. Unfortunately his only ally against overwhelming naivety had apparently zonked out, the animal-print throw he'd brought from the van pooled in a wrinkled mess over his lap.
Warren allowed himself another sigh and stood, pinching the bridge of his nose in anticipation of a major headache. When he looked at Andrew, he fixed the boy with the kind of resolute gaze he might have used to explain 'sit' to an untrained puppy.
"It means you're gay," he announced, punctuating the sentence with a perfunctory nod of his head.
The shift in Andrew's expression seemed to have been screened in super-slow-mo, as the thought registered visibly inside his muddled mind. Warren wished he'd had a camera to hand to capture it.
"I am not gay!" The pout was back in full force, emphasised with a stamp of his right foot. Not one to miss an opportunity, Warren stepped closer.
"Sure it does," he countered as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It means you get all wigged 'cause you don't want anyone to know you're a fruit." He tipped his head back slightly so that he could look down his nose at Andrew. The boy squirmed under his gaze, trying to back up despite the desk behind him. Warren moved closer still.
"Now, I'm not saying it's a bad thing," he continued. It was tough not to laugh out loud at the look of frightened outrage on Andrew's face, but he persevered. "I mean, nothing wrong with it, right?" His knees were brushing Andrew's knees now as the kid tried to scoot further back on to the desk. "You can tell us if you are."
"I am not!" Andrew was verging on hysterical. Warren wondered how much more it would take to make him cry.
He experimented with a hand on Andrew's hip. The boy jumped like they'd made a static shock, but Warren refused to pull back. When he was satisfied that his target couldn't get away, he slid that hand down Andrew's thigh until his fingers brushed the inseam of Andrew's pants.
Andrew had evidently figured out that he couldn't back up any more, and had resorted to merely looking scared witless.
"Don't..." was all he could muster in response to the soft but insistent pressure Warren was now applying.
"Come on," he breathed in a deadly whisper, "it's okay if you like it." He watched with surprised satisfaction as Andrew's eyes slid closed, whether in avoidance or arousal he couldn't tell, but it didn't matter. Andrew wasn't making a move to push his hand away.
"Warren, cut it out." Jonathan's words pulled him away from Andrew and back into the lair. When he turned to look, it was tough to tell if Jonathan was even awake, until he shifted in his chair and pulled the animal-print throw up to his shoulders. He glared at them, until Warren reluctantly stepped away from Andrew, then dropped his head and closed his eyes once more. Warren guessed his interruption was more about snarking at him than about sticking up for Andrew, but he didn't want to have to deal with pissed-Jonathan *and* pissed-Andrew, so he acquiesced and made a show of leaving Andrew alone, crossing the room and fixing his attention on the bookshelves. He didn't mind so much. There was plenty more mileage to be had from this one.
~~~~~
tbc