Chameleon Knights
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
8
Views:
1,120
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
8
Views:
1,120
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
CK 8
Chapter 8
It was a godsend when the bell to third block finally rang. Jaz leapt to his feet with a strangled whoop, still mindful of the tongue lashing he had received. He despised gym class, but at least he could cut loose a little and coach wasn’t a bad guy for all his bitchin’ and hooplah. Sliding his things off the desk haphazardly into his bag, he trotted for the door, sidestepping the dumpy class president in his path. Sandy Deane was cute, but thick—so not his type and a bonified snot. He refrained from tripping her on his fast trek into mainstream traffic, barely.
Rin glanced up in time to watch Jaz’s back disappear into the quickly crowding hallway. He probably wouldn’t speak to her again until he had to. He tended to be temperamental at the best of times, hypersensitive under censure. Annoyed, but distracted, Rin arranged her books carefully, taking time to sling her purse strap diagonally across her shoulders out of force of habit.
“Kushani?”
Hearing her name spoken quietly over the last scraping of metal on tile, she ceased her fussing to find Craig Johnson regarding her hesitantly. They had only spoken a number of times, but he was always polite, meticulously so.
“Yes, Johnson,” she replied waiting patiently for him to speak, the second to the tardy tone ticking off in her head. Ms. Frogge would not be pleased if she were late to anatomy again.
“Craig,” he corrected the timber of his voice rich as burnt umber. “Could I walk with you to class? We’re headed to the same wing.”
“I suppose, Craig,” Rin replied stumbling just a bit over the name. “R”s were still difficult. What does he want? Stupid Jaz.
“Here—let me help you with that,” the blonde offered reaching for the girl’s books at the back of the classroom. Mrs. Markham watched amused as the slender, Asian girl hugged the books to her chest much to Craig’s chagrin. She knew for a fact that Craig had never taken much to dating, her own little sister complained about it bitterly every time she spent Sunday supper at her parents’ house. Madelynn was going to be spitting nails when the rumors started about this.
“I think I can manage, but I thank you.”
“Oh, huhhuh, right.” A nervous palm smoothed precisely arranged bangs.
“Good bye, Mrs. Markham, and thank you,” Rin called to the red-haired instructor who indulged her protective streak far too often.
“Have a good day, hun.” Mrs. Markham returned waving them out of the room. The older woman smiled fondly as the boy she had spent a good part of her youth babysitting stood aside to allow his companion to pass the threshold first. Madelynn and her crew were definitely going to be burning up the phone lines tonight.
In the hallway, Rin maneuvered deftly through spaces not meant to accommodate the human form. Craig couldn’t help but feel she was doing it purposefully. Glancing up at the clock mounted overhead, he was sure she was. Two minutes to the bell and her class was upstairs and on the other side of the building—damnit he was going to be really late.
“Kushani?” He darted between two of his buddies from the football team hoping they wouldn’t mind. A firm slap across the left cheek assured him they didn’t or if they did he would hear about it later. “Hey, wait up!” She didn’t slow, but instead gravitated toward larger openings in the streaming crowd. Long strides lodged him beside her and he began to talk in rush as they hit the stairs at a near jog. “I was wondering what you were doing next Friday?”
“I don’t know? What’s the date?” A spindly brunet, probably a lost freshman, bumped into her while trying to turn on the stairs. Craig shouldered her up before she could completely lose her balance earning a fleeting smile of gratitude.
“It’s September 22nd.”
“I don’t think I do. Why?” She sounded only mildly curious… Was she really that oblivious?
“Well, I was wondering if maybe you didn’t have a date to the homecoming dance—you might want to go with me? If you want to – that is?”
“It’s almost homecoming already,” Rin mused a little disturbed that senior year seemed to be flying by so quickly. Why couldn’t Jaz have stuck around?
“Umh, yeah.” Not the reaction I was hoping for… “So, what do you think? About the dance?”
“I might have to work that night. How soon do you need to know?”
A slow smile spread across his lips as he caught the flush rising along her neckline. He wondered if it was just that the heat was finally being cut on in the building or if she was less indifferent than she was trying to effect. “By Friday would be nice.”
Ms. Frogge’s door was just ahead and the Amazon of a woman was positioned to pounce on any stragglers. Luckily, the tardy tone is a bit late today. “Nice of you to join us today, Miss Kushani, and just on time too.”
Smiling differentially, Rin turned to the tall, blonde at her side, “I’ll let you know before then.” With a wave she stepped into her third block class abandoning him to the mercy of the hall monitor from hell.
“And where is your next class, sir?” Frogge inquired acidly, never one to discriminate on doling out punishments.
“I have a note from Coach to walk Kushani to class. She wasn’t feeling too well during last block.”
“Then I suggest you move along seeing as how she’s been delivered safely.” Frogge stared down her broad, bridgeless nose at the good Samaritan until he raised his hands in surrender and ambled off toward the stairwell with a muttered, ‘yes, ma’am’.
Fifteen pairs of unrelenting eyes had devoured the exchange, a few casting hostile needles at the alternative oddball in the back corner nearest the reptile hutch.
+++++ Start Here 9/23
Jaz was ahead of the game as far as the stragglers were concerned. He was dressed and trotting out of the locker room before Craig Johnson ever set foot in the gym. As little as physical exertion appealed to him, an ass chewing was even less appreciated—convenient how Craig showed up unusually tardy.
“Johnson, what’s yer excuse?” Coach Johnston barked beady, gray eyes shifting up from his roster.
Heads turned toward the guilty party who appeared to be winded enough that an answer wasn’t forthcoming.
“I didn’t catch that!” Coach reiterated impatiently, clipboard now thumping a hairy, muscled thigh.
Why the heck do all gym teachers have to wear such … ugh, revealing shorts? Jaz hadn’t had a single one that could dress themselves for anything and none that he was pleased to see skin on.
Panting, Johnson finally replied, all Southern meekness, “Sorry, sir. I got held up.”
An acid glare met this, “Son, the next time you decide to go skirt chasing do it on someone else’s time. Now hit the locker room then give me a 100.”
The blush that covered lightly freckled cheeks at the command, elicited a gale of tittering laughter from the few girls in their advanced phys-ed class.
“Why can’t I get me some of that?,” one of those closest to Jaz, a dark haired girl he recognized as the worst half of a set of twins, commented to her equally infatuated friend, another twit that thought cosmetics were second only to air.
How does she get all that crap to stay on her face? Snorting derisively, the delinquent senior leaned back on his hands, rings clicking sharply on the flooring. The girls’ eyes followed Craig as he made a dash for the dressing room, not eager to further displease his football coach.
“I’ll help you, but only if you share,” a third girl, a junior that seemed to know most of the male population on a more intimate level than their “official” girlfriends offered.
Do all the chicks have to be such horn dogs in this freakin’ class?
A booming voice caused the harlot trio to jump. “Listen up, all you lazy, soft soled young un’s, today were going to training for the Presidential Fitness Test. This is an exam that measures things like endurance, strength and flexibility. Our school has the tradition of scoring the highest in the state of Louisiana and I’m not going to see that tradition tarnished.”
Eloquent as always, Jaz never the less was thankful for the interrupted conversation. The last thing he wanted the details of would be a plan to snog Craig. The guy was alright, but straighter than a railroad tie.
“On yer feet and hands to yer toes! What are we doin’?” Coach barked like a .45 retort as the class scrambled to their feet and jackknifed into position. With the exception of Jaz and a few others that refused to be strung like obedient marionettes. Taking a more leisurely pace, Jaz frowned at the pull of tightened muscles. Totting his trap around had done wonders for his physique but his tryst with Treize had worked a few kinks into some interesting place.
“Stretching, Coach,” one of the man’s pet jocks supplied while scoping the trunk of the sole cheerleader that had ended up in the class, according to her own defense, entirely due to a Guidance mishap that couldn’t be corrected.
A grimace morphed into an indulgent smirk at his player before he moved onto the next victim. “Why do we do it, Johnson?”
The blond froze at the sound of his name when he emerged from the dressing room. Another flush lit his cheeks as he searched for a clue as to what the hell the man was yapping about.
Taking pity on him, under the heavy scrutiny of Coach’s glare, Jaz lifted from his position, made eye contact and mouthed, Stretching, then repeated the motion.
“Uh, to keep from injuring ourselves, coach,” Craig replied quietly hoping he had understood what the Kine kid said and that the little punk wasn’t playing tricks.
“Be on time from now on and you’ll know without asking. Kine, join Johnson and give me a 100.”
“What the …”
A challenging quirk of a graying brow halted the expletive on his lips.
Swallowing some of his indignation, Jaz rephrased, “What am I getting punished over?”
“Johnson wasn’t the only one late.”
“Damnit,” the silver haired teen snarled under his breath as he stood and moved off to the back of the gym on Craig’s heels without any more fuss.
“Thought you got away with it, didn’t you, Kine?” Coach asked as he passed close by on his trek to the back.
The teen gave the instructor a tight nod. I’m man enough to admit when I get caught.
“Next time let him stew, help make an honest man of him.” Kindly eyes cut to see the uncertain regard on the kid’s face. Hadn’t anyone ever entrusted something like that to him?
“Sure.”
“Now get going.”
“Yes, sir,” Jaz answered up more politely than usual before trotting to drop into ready position under the far basketball goal. Grumbling, he started his count.
It was a godsend when the bell to third block finally rang. Jaz leapt to his feet with a strangled whoop, still mindful of the tongue lashing he had received. He despised gym class, but at least he could cut loose a little and coach wasn’t a bad guy for all his bitchin’ and hooplah. Sliding his things off the desk haphazardly into his bag, he trotted for the door, sidestepping the dumpy class president in his path. Sandy Deane was cute, but thick—so not his type and a bonified snot. He refrained from tripping her on his fast trek into mainstream traffic, barely.
Rin glanced up in time to watch Jaz’s back disappear into the quickly crowding hallway. He probably wouldn’t speak to her again until he had to. He tended to be temperamental at the best of times, hypersensitive under censure. Annoyed, but distracted, Rin arranged her books carefully, taking time to sling her purse strap diagonally across her shoulders out of force of habit.
“Kushani?”
Hearing her name spoken quietly over the last scraping of metal on tile, she ceased her fussing to find Craig Johnson regarding her hesitantly. They had only spoken a number of times, but he was always polite, meticulously so.
“Yes, Johnson,” she replied waiting patiently for him to speak, the second to the tardy tone ticking off in her head. Ms. Frogge would not be pleased if she were late to anatomy again.
“Craig,” he corrected the timber of his voice rich as burnt umber. “Could I walk with you to class? We’re headed to the same wing.”
“I suppose, Craig,” Rin replied stumbling just a bit over the name. “R”s were still difficult. What does he want? Stupid Jaz.
“Here—let me help you with that,” the blonde offered reaching for the girl’s books at the back of the classroom. Mrs. Markham watched amused as the slender, Asian girl hugged the books to her chest much to Craig’s chagrin. She knew for a fact that Craig had never taken much to dating, her own little sister complained about it bitterly every time she spent Sunday supper at her parents’ house. Madelynn was going to be spitting nails when the rumors started about this.
“I think I can manage, but I thank you.”
“Oh, huhhuh, right.” A nervous palm smoothed precisely arranged bangs.
“Good bye, Mrs. Markham, and thank you,” Rin called to the red-haired instructor who indulged her protective streak far too often.
“Have a good day, hun.” Mrs. Markham returned waving them out of the room. The older woman smiled fondly as the boy she had spent a good part of her youth babysitting stood aside to allow his companion to pass the threshold first. Madelynn and her crew were definitely going to be burning up the phone lines tonight.
In the hallway, Rin maneuvered deftly through spaces not meant to accommodate the human form. Craig couldn’t help but feel she was doing it purposefully. Glancing up at the clock mounted overhead, he was sure she was. Two minutes to the bell and her class was upstairs and on the other side of the building—damnit he was going to be really late.
“Kushani?” He darted between two of his buddies from the football team hoping they wouldn’t mind. A firm slap across the left cheek assured him they didn’t or if they did he would hear about it later. “Hey, wait up!” She didn’t slow, but instead gravitated toward larger openings in the streaming crowd. Long strides lodged him beside her and he began to talk in rush as they hit the stairs at a near jog. “I was wondering what you were doing next Friday?”
“I don’t know? What’s the date?” A spindly brunet, probably a lost freshman, bumped into her while trying to turn on the stairs. Craig shouldered her up before she could completely lose her balance earning a fleeting smile of gratitude.
“It’s September 22nd.”
“I don’t think I do. Why?” She sounded only mildly curious… Was she really that oblivious?
“Well, I was wondering if maybe you didn’t have a date to the homecoming dance—you might want to go with me? If you want to – that is?”
“It’s almost homecoming already,” Rin mused a little disturbed that senior year seemed to be flying by so quickly. Why couldn’t Jaz have stuck around?
“Umh, yeah.” Not the reaction I was hoping for… “So, what do you think? About the dance?”
“I might have to work that night. How soon do you need to know?”
A slow smile spread across his lips as he caught the flush rising along her neckline. He wondered if it was just that the heat was finally being cut on in the building or if she was less indifferent than she was trying to effect. “By Friday would be nice.”
Ms. Frogge’s door was just ahead and the Amazon of a woman was positioned to pounce on any stragglers. Luckily, the tardy tone is a bit late today. “Nice of you to join us today, Miss Kushani, and just on time too.”
Smiling differentially, Rin turned to the tall, blonde at her side, “I’ll let you know before then.” With a wave she stepped into her third block class abandoning him to the mercy of the hall monitor from hell.
“And where is your next class, sir?” Frogge inquired acidly, never one to discriminate on doling out punishments.
“I have a note from Coach to walk Kushani to class. She wasn’t feeling too well during last block.”
“Then I suggest you move along seeing as how she’s been delivered safely.” Frogge stared down her broad, bridgeless nose at the good Samaritan until he raised his hands in surrender and ambled off toward the stairwell with a muttered, ‘yes, ma’am’.
Fifteen pairs of unrelenting eyes had devoured the exchange, a few casting hostile needles at the alternative oddball in the back corner nearest the reptile hutch.
+++++ Start Here 9/23
Jaz was ahead of the game as far as the stragglers were concerned. He was dressed and trotting out of the locker room before Craig Johnson ever set foot in the gym. As little as physical exertion appealed to him, an ass chewing was even less appreciated—convenient how Craig showed up unusually tardy.
“Johnson, what’s yer excuse?” Coach Johnston barked beady, gray eyes shifting up from his roster.
Heads turned toward the guilty party who appeared to be winded enough that an answer wasn’t forthcoming.
“I didn’t catch that!” Coach reiterated impatiently, clipboard now thumping a hairy, muscled thigh.
Why the heck do all gym teachers have to wear such … ugh, revealing shorts? Jaz hadn’t had a single one that could dress themselves for anything and none that he was pleased to see skin on.
Panting, Johnson finally replied, all Southern meekness, “Sorry, sir. I got held up.”
An acid glare met this, “Son, the next time you decide to go skirt chasing do it on someone else’s time. Now hit the locker room then give me a 100.”
The blush that covered lightly freckled cheeks at the command, elicited a gale of tittering laughter from the few girls in their advanced phys-ed class.
“Why can’t I get me some of that?,” one of those closest to Jaz, a dark haired girl he recognized as the worst half of a set of twins, commented to her equally infatuated friend, another twit that thought cosmetics were second only to air.
How does she get all that crap to stay on her face? Snorting derisively, the delinquent senior leaned back on his hands, rings clicking sharply on the flooring. The girls’ eyes followed Craig as he made a dash for the dressing room, not eager to further displease his football coach.
“I’ll help you, but only if you share,” a third girl, a junior that seemed to know most of the male population on a more intimate level than their “official” girlfriends offered.
Do all the chicks have to be such horn dogs in this freakin’ class?
A booming voice caused the harlot trio to jump. “Listen up, all you lazy, soft soled young un’s, today were going to training for the Presidential Fitness Test. This is an exam that measures things like endurance, strength and flexibility. Our school has the tradition of scoring the highest in the state of Louisiana and I’m not going to see that tradition tarnished.”
Eloquent as always, Jaz never the less was thankful for the interrupted conversation. The last thing he wanted the details of would be a plan to snog Craig. The guy was alright, but straighter than a railroad tie.
“On yer feet and hands to yer toes! What are we doin’?” Coach barked like a .45 retort as the class scrambled to their feet and jackknifed into position. With the exception of Jaz and a few others that refused to be strung like obedient marionettes. Taking a more leisurely pace, Jaz frowned at the pull of tightened muscles. Totting his trap around had done wonders for his physique but his tryst with Treize had worked a few kinks into some interesting place.
“Stretching, Coach,” one of the man’s pet jocks supplied while scoping the trunk of the sole cheerleader that had ended up in the class, according to her own defense, entirely due to a Guidance mishap that couldn’t be corrected.
A grimace morphed into an indulgent smirk at his player before he moved onto the next victim. “Why do we do it, Johnson?”
The blond froze at the sound of his name when he emerged from the dressing room. Another flush lit his cheeks as he searched for a clue as to what the hell the man was yapping about.
Taking pity on him, under the heavy scrutiny of Coach’s glare, Jaz lifted from his position, made eye contact and mouthed, Stretching, then repeated the motion.
“Uh, to keep from injuring ourselves, coach,” Craig replied quietly hoping he had understood what the Kine kid said and that the little punk wasn’t playing tricks.
“Be on time from now on and you’ll know without asking. Kine, join Johnson and give me a 100.”
“What the …”
A challenging quirk of a graying brow halted the expletive on his lips.
Swallowing some of his indignation, Jaz rephrased, “What am I getting punished over?”
“Johnson wasn’t the only one late.”
“Damnit,” the silver haired teen snarled under his breath as he stood and moved off to the back of the gym on Craig’s heels without any more fuss.
“Thought you got away with it, didn’t you, Kine?” Coach asked as he passed close by on his trek to the back.
The teen gave the instructor a tight nod. I’m man enough to admit when I get caught.
“Next time let him stew, help make an honest man of him.” Kindly eyes cut to see the uncertain regard on the kid’s face. Hadn’t anyone ever entrusted something like that to him?
“Sure.”
“Now get going.”
“Yes, sir,” Jaz answered up more politely than usual before trotting to drop into ready position under the far basketball goal. Grumbling, he started his count.