Disrupting the Status Quo {Gregory}

[Demetrius Wolfbane]

It was official. Less than 12 hours being at Hammel Institute and Demetrius was already sure he was going to be knocking some heads around. First there was the awful entrance speech (delivered only to him, how fan-fucking-tastic), then he couldn't get his so call guide to leave him alone so he could find his way around. Yes, the hallways were confusing. Yes, he'd gotten turned around more than a few times. But the fact of the matter was... Well! Damnit, Demetrius wasn't a kid anymore. He could take care of himself.

The dark haired boy sighed under his breath and brushed a piece of his hair out of his eyes to scan over the stack of papers in his hand. Unlike other students, who probably only had a few files, Demetrius held all the paperwork he needed in order to start classes and find his way about as well as a copy of his rather extensive medical file that he needed to bring to the school infirmary. Normally it would have been handled by his mother or father, but he'd sort of had a fit that he could do it himself. He was a little ashamed to admit that he'd even thrown a lamp during his little tantrum, which further aggravated his already injured shoulder (or at least that's what the doctor said) as well as his parents. But! It got them to let him deal with his own medical conditions, for the most part anyway. Demetrius wasn't deluded enough to think that they wouldn't have another copy sent to Hammel just to make sure that he hadn't neglected to inform the nurse on duty he'd have even more work cut out for him. Which was fair. Demetrius didn't trust them and they didn't trust him, the cycle was complete as far as he cared.

With another sigh, he tucked the paperwork into his large black duffle bag. In it contained just about all the clothes he cared about, as well as his own backpack and a few essential school supplies. The rest of his belonging would be, hopefully, shipped from his home back in Texas. Demetrius shook his head as an annoyed grimace crossed his face, bending down to pick up the duffle bag with his 'good' arm. The other arm was secured to his chest with a sling that looked far too complicated to be necessary. It had two different straps and had string threaded through it to hold it shut kind of like a corset. The difficulty was just in hopes that the boy would find it too much of a hassle to try and use his arm, which as he understood would serve to injure him more. A stupid thing to try and do since Demetrius felt perfectly fine. Then again, he had felt perfectly fine when the tip of his ear got ripped off. Or there was that time when he'd gotten stabbed by a pencil and didn't feel it.

In the present though, Demetrius blinked rapidly as he realized he'd been standing in the entryway to the dorms for the past five or so minutes. A quick glance around comforted the boy when he saw that no one had entered the area during that time. He gave himself a satisfied smile as he slung the bag onto his shoulder and practically jogged up the stairs, taking a rather sudden vow that he was going to try and be nicer. After all, this was a new school in a new place with new people. He could be nicer, maybe people would even be smarter here! After all, it was filled with people who had powers as well. Definitely a breeding ground for intellect if he ever heard of one. Demetrius nodded his head once, almost as if confirming to the air that this place was going to be better. Just point him to the nearest library and he wouldn't even have to check his hypothesis! Nor would he make anyone cry when he pushed them away verbally or physically.

Demetrius had to slow his impromptu jog when he came towards doors being marked in the five hundreds- this was his floor. The boy bristled almost instantly at the thought of seeing his room, all earlier thoughts of being nice sort of pushed aside. It was just a fleeting promise anyway. A frown marred his features as he walked (or rather, stomped) through the hallway, mentally growing more and more on edge as he watched the numbers grow.

505... 506... 507... 508.

Wind filled green eyes stared at the shining numbers on the wooden surface, wishing he could have been discovered to have some sort of fire power instead. This desire was stemming from the fact that underneath the number was not one but three names. As though one roommate weren't enough. Demetrius' lips pinched together as he resisted the urge to kick the door on frustration, instead he used his new found disappointed anger to toss open the door. His only hope now was that no one would actually be in the room so he could put his stuff away without worrying about changing the hiding places later. No telling which of those names was going to be the klepto. So, clutching this hope like a life line, Demetrius walked into his new "home" with the air of someone that really didn't belong.

"Anyone in this shit hole home or do I get to be alone for once?" He called out, his voice oddly quite for someone with the intent of announcing his presence. 'Don't want to draw attention if they're busy enough to leave me alone, after all...'

((AN:
I made an outfit... Just remembered.))

[Greg Mackenzie]

As much as he identified as an extrovert, Greg loved his lazy Saturdays. Those Saturdays where he didn’t have to do any work, could wake up any time he wished, go through the motions – work out, eat, sleep, watch TV – without really worrying that about time, and just basically let it all hang loose – those were the best, he’d always say. And really with everything that’s happened the past fourteen days, he needed this one. Badly.

He’d just gone from the gym and was fresh out of the shower. Normally he’d work out earlier in the morning, when there’s not that many kids and the wait time for the machines were practically nonexistent, but he had to do some grocery shopping. Which all turned out for the best, since when he got back from the gym, both his roomies were out, meaning he can actually watch Teen Wolf in the common area and not hear any snide comments from the rude blonde imp.

He had just finished putting the dips he bought in three different bowls – guacamole, spinach and cheese, and just regular salsa – and had plopped down the couch when the door opened. A stranger judging by his mental signature, and Greg would’ve been a little worried had the intruder not opened his mouth.

Of course it had to be a very rude comment about their dorm room. He wouldn’t had felt very offended had he and T.K. spent considerable time and money making sure that it was as nice and as homey as residences go. (Not to be stereotypical and all, but even Dylan agreed that having two gay guys in the room was advantageous. Or at least that’s what Greg would like to think the boy thought but wouldn’t say outright).

“Are you always this pleasant to people you live with?” he said, rolling his eyes as he paused his show and turned around. When he saw that the boy had a seemingly heavy bag and a sling, he immediately jumped up, tightened the towel wrapped around his waist and rushed to the boy. “Shit you need some help with that?”

[Demetrius Wolfbane]

The first thing his eyes were drawn to was not, in fact, the male resident nearby but instead to the rooms furnishing. Okay so maybe he'd been a quick to condemn the home as "unlivable" before he actually looked at it. But in all fairness no one had explained to the new student that they would be sharing what looked like an apartment rather than what he originally thought- which would be a small crowded room with bunk beds and the usual stench associated with unwashed male. Not to say Demetrius was any better but he liked to shower every other day, or more if he did any sort of exercise (unlikely but the boy could hope). His laundry was also regularly washed so he never really ran out of clothes, but Demetrius had a sneaking suspicion that he'd have to fend for himself in that department now.

After that he was drawn to the sounds streaming from the TV. Familiar sounds at that. Demetrius perked some when he realized that someone had put Teen Wolf on. The boy didn't actually watch a lot of TV but he was always known to gravitate to the living room whenever the show was on. Close enough to see, but far enough that no one would actually consider talking to him. A difficult balance to achieve if the number of conversations people threw at him were any sort of indicators.

"Only when the people haven't got the damned courtesy to have some kind of shitty welcome planned." he shot back out of instinct and instantly reprimanded himself. Being nicer didn't exactly start with insulting someone right off the bat. Demetrius took a quick step back despite himself, though as a half naked male pranced towards him.

Not the welcome I meant! he thought in a rush, shifting the bag quickly to put himself between it an the male. In the same breath as his sort of panicked moment he glared at the male, about to reach out with his other hand to smack him when the sling pulled on his arm to cut off the movement. Okay, so having half naked males prancing towards him definitely got the barely fifteen year old just a bit flustered. Not to say he hadn't seen a naked male before but, it was probably just the fact of the matter. That or somehow during the flight to Vermont he'd grown some kind of embarrassed reaction to nakedness. Unlikely, but completely possible. It would definitely explain why he was averting his gaze from the towel-clad man. Weirder things have happened... Like growing giant bird wings from your shoulder blades for instance.

"Fuck... No. If I wanted help I would have asked. I don't exactly need you pawing through my shit the minute I walk in. And where the fuck are your clothes? Are you some kind of creepy nudest who enjoys assaulting anyone who walks in the door?" he said quickly.

This was followed by a quick succession of mental facepalms as Demetrius once again reminded himself of his vow to be nicer. There was a pause before he casually shifted the bag from behind him back around to the front. Now, to just pretend the last few moment hadn't happened then everything following would be smooth sailing. He'd gain a friend, a bit a rather shifty looking friend (Demetrius might have to admit there was worry for the male pawing through his stuff after all) and maybe then he'd have a pleasant conversation and go to his room to get a bit of rest after his long, and rather unsuccessful day. Simple as that.

"...So who the hell are you anyway? Dylan? You look like the kinda ass that'd be a Dylan." he spoke up, looking around the room before he continued. "While you're trying to gather two brain cells, good ol' Dylan, maybe you could work in a tour of the place?"

Well... Fuck. There was a few more mental facepalms before the green gaze settled on the stranger. "I'm Demetrius..."

[Greg Mackenzie]

Greg couldn’t resist sneering at the boy when he continued being, well, a pompous little asshole. It’s one thing to made snide comments the moment you enter the room – the telepath was under the impression that the other boy wasn’t expecting anyone to be around when he first arrived – and it’s another to still keep on saying said comments despite knowing that someone else was listening. Someone who’s acknowledged your presence and actually called you out on your douchebaggery.

“Your mouth is just a gift that keeps on giving, isn’t it?” Boy this is going to be one heck of a year. If the boy arrived when Greg was still adjusting, the Canadian teen wouldn’t have known how he’d fared. Despite the initial kerfuffle with Dylan and T.K., the three actually got along well (or at least they had a shaky treaty within themselves, which was actually working). The two were reasonable, even if Dylan and Greg got off the wrong foot. With this little imp, well, Greg wasn’t so sure.

An exasperated gasp left the telepath, followed by a not-so-subtle eye roll and his arms crossing over his chest. “Dude, breathe,” he tried his hardest not to laugh when the boy began asking questions like there was no tomorrow, “I was just trying to help. You seem so tense. Haven’t jerked off lately have you?” His eyes went to the boy’s sling and he let out a snort, a rather rude comment that he completed with a gesture that involved three quick abrupt strokes and his hand seemingly exploding. A not-so-subtle dramatization of the act, since Greg’s a classy Canadian like that.

He wasn’t deliberately trying to read the boy’s mind, but he did get some stray thoughts and sensed some sort of internal conflict within the boy – nothing serious, from the intensity of the said thoughts, but enough to make Greg worry that they’ve been placed with an unstable teen. Better keep a close watch on this little brunette then.

Greg couldn’t help but laugh when the boy mistook him for Dylan. Not only that, but described Dylan as an ass. It wasn’t too far from the truth, and boy was he excited for the two to meet. He should ready his popcorn for quite the show. “Hate to burst your bubble, but I’m Greg, not Dylan. Dylan’s blonde. T.K.’s the token black kid. It’s not easy to mistake one for the other.” At Demetrius’ urging, Greg complied with the mini-tour, walking towards the centre of the room and telling the boy which room belonged to whom. “…which meant that the remaining room, the one beside the kitchen, is yours. Don’t worry, nobody’s been using it to store their junk or as a sex-den.” Misato, a friend of Greg from History, told him that a roommate of his used to have sex in their free room ‘cause he didn’t like how his bed smelled after the deed. “Did you bring bed sheets? If not, there are temporary ones just down the hall, right by Robbie Wilke’s room, our floor’s dorm monitor.”

[Demetrius Wolfbane]

No. He could do this. He could be nice. It couldn't be that hard, right? Mathis did it all the time. He just... needed to learn this whole mouth filtering thing. Though in his case isn't wasn't so much needing to filter his thoughts from leaving his mouth but instead to filter his mouth from just biting whatever came near it. Figuratively and sometimes even literally.

"Just like it's fucking Christmas" There! That was nice, sort of. It was agreement anyway. Close enough that the dark haired boy relaxed just a little bit, enough so that he could feel a chill run down his spine. Which would sound completely stupid if it weren't for the fact he shirt was cut along the back. Demetrius twisted his head briefly to check that his wings hadn't popped out without him knowing before turning his attention back to his roommate.

That brief moment was ruined at the male's reply to his rather rushed speech. Demetrius couldn't hold back his own sneer and cocked his head up with a stubbornly tense jaw. Why had he wanted to befriend these kinda of assholes anyway? "Why should I jerk off if I can get plenty of action with... oh.. Y'know actual fucking people and not just my goddamned hand." This he could deal with. Making highly sexual comments. Just.. The other male in a towel definitely was crossing a line. Demetrius looked him up and down before sneering again. Cute..."If that's all it takes for you to get off, you should just give up." Real smooth. Super nice. Great way to make friends.

Demetrius was busy reprimanding himself and thinking over his goal of trying to be nice (it seemed it was working even less around the roommate) when the male in question spoke. "Whatever you say, dumbass. Maybe you guys should wear nametags or something, then everyone can tell one asshole from another." It was a weak attempt to cover up his mental chagrin over not knowing anything. But in all fairness it wasn't actually his fault, being new and all. The boy nodded once, biting on his tongue in an attempt to physically hold back words as he follows the roommate through the small apartment-like place. The bite increased when Greg 'assured' him that the room wasn't being used for anything, though it quickly diminished with a hum when a splash of copper invaded his mouth. Note to self.. Stop biting tongue whenever possible.

"Because I know where the hell the dorm monitor's room is." Demetrius sighed to himself and turned his attention back to Greg. "I have sheets and clothes... Are there any drawers or something in there I can use?" There! Finally, actual pleasantry leaving his mouth.

[Greg Mackenzie]

Greg let out a loud laugh when Demetrius told him he could get plenty of action without the use of his hand. He was truly the gift that kept on giving, albeit he didn’t know how exactly he was giving. Helping him get settled was almost worth stopping his Teen Wolf marathon.

“Oh honey. You almost look cute when you try to act all tough and capable. Almost.” The telepath tussled Dem’s hair just a bit, shaking his head and smiling like one would to an eight year-old attempting to do something way beyond her abilities and failing miserably. (Though his smile did turn from patronizing to full-on sarcastic when he said the word ‘almost’). Greg couldn’t help it – the more Demetrius talked, the more he was looking more like an injured puppy barking relentlessly to try to prove he’s an adult canine. It was so sad to the point that it’s adorable. “Don’t worry we’ll try our best to make a man out of you,” he added, giving Dem a light tap on the nose.

He simply clicked his tongue and said “Sure” when Dem mentioned nametags. Some things were just way too stupid to even acknowledge. He did however, get a little confused when Dem said he didn’t know where the dorm monitor’s room was. “Did your guide forget to tell you that?” Greg remembered that it was the first thing his guide pointed to him the moment they got to the dormitories.

He walked near the door towards a series of wooden hooks he and T.K. bought just a few weeks over. It had four hooks, but only one had a single metal ring with two keys hanging from it. “There’s a closet that’s roughly three-quarters of the room long and a wooden drawer with four sections. Come, I’ll show you.” He grabbed the keys and opened the room, beckoning the boy to come follow him. “It’s not much, but just a touch of personalization and it’ll be good to go. Just don’t use nails or anything on the walls.” Greg himself has turned one of his walls into a photo album of sorts.

“Here you go,” he said with a grin, throwing the keys to Dem, “The one with a circular head is for your private quarters. Sure you don’t need help unpacking or anything? Three hands are better than one.” He added a little wink, hoping that the joke won’t be lost on the boy.

[Demetrius Wolfbane]

((I can do this! Shortness here we go!!))

Demetrius could swear his eyebrow twitched when Greg ruffled his hair. Instinctively his injured arm attempted to move again, only to be pulled to a stop by the sling. This eyes fell down to glare at the offending object like he could somehow burn it into nonexistence. Why did he need it anyway? He felt perfectly fine. Granted, he would feel fine even if he had a fork embedded in his eyeball. But that wasn't relevant. After a few moments he finally focused enough to be able to snarl at the male he'd be sharing a home with. "Oh just go fuck yourself you stupid little fuck." There. Very elegantly put, if you asked him. Demetrius quickly raised his uninjured arm to smack the hand that attempted to poke him. Physical contact was definitely on the "hell no" list if the male insisted on remaining naked.

There was a surge of idiotic pride when Greg didn't respond to the name tag comment, and the winged boy resolved that if this whole nicety thing didn't work out he could always look into making them those name tags. A snort passed through his lips, though, at the male's confusion. "What shit you talkin about? 'Guide'? I didn't get a fucking guide dumbass. I found this place all on my own. 'Cause I can.. Y'know... Read maps?" Demetrius wasn't going to point out that he'd actually been offered a guide because then he'd just sound stupid. More so than he already did, that was.


Green eyes stared at the series of hooks in mild confusion. Why would they have a random set of keys on them if no one else was using them? Besides that, weren’t hooks supposed to be used for coats? Though Demetrius could always just chalk it up to more of his roommates’ stupidity. ”There a bookcase in there or have y’all just looted it for your own uses?” This he said in his usual biting tone, hesitantly following Greg towards the room. Suspicious was painted across his face as he looked to the door he would call ‘home’ for the foreseeable future.”So how the hell am I supposed to put shit on the walls if I can’t use nails or something? Am I just supposed to cross my fingers and hope it sticks or something?”

As he said this, Demetrius quickly jerked his hand out to catch the keys, once again shooting his useless arm a glare. ”Fuckin’ hell. I already said I don’t need you picking through my shit.” He turned his glare to the boy before dropping the keys on the floor, using his now empty hand to start undoing the straps to his sling. While he could hear the doctors’ in his head complaining at him that he was just going to injure himself worth, Demetrius was much happier having use of his arm again as well as keeping Greg off his back. After all, the male only seem interested in helping because the winged boy was injured. Though, Demetrius still suspected he planned on looting his bag if and when an opportunity arose. It took a few fumbling tries before his arm fell free of the sling and he rotated it carefully, testing for any sort of stiffness with a face and body completely void of any usual responses to pain. When he found that it really only wanted to lift part way he shrugged, leaning down to pick up the keys with the now freed hand.

”There you go, fucker. I now have two magical hands. I can unpack my own things.” With that he quickly unlocked his door and went inside to unpack. Which mostly consisted of him leaving the door open wide so he could hear Greg approaching, and him throwing his bag onto the bed. Which, in all honesty, looked like it might have been used for a sex-den.

((663 words.... That's... Short, right? XD))

[Greg Mackenzie]

The Canadian teen simply smiled and shook his head when Demetrius gave him the weakest insult ever. Not because Greg’s heard it a dozen times, but more along the lines of it’s not really insulting. It’s like calling whatever he’s doing “That’s so gay!”. Sports had never really removed homophobic remarks such as that in the locker room despite the best intentions, and he not only had to learn how to roll with said punches but really turn them down in such a way that people wouldn’t dare use them again. He’s done it so much over the past years that, well, it’s become as normal as breathing to him.

“You know it’s not actually an insult if I do fuck myself with these fingers for fun, right?” He leaned on the door frame with his arms crossed in front of him, carefully observing the younger boy. He would’ve been so cute had it not been for his attitude. Bite was totally appreciated, but too much can be exhausting. “You should try it sometime. Find the right spot in you and your orgasms would be so much better. Could help with the whole uptight thing you have going on. People don’t dig that.” The telepath said it in way that was less sexual or sultry and more a matter-of-fact, because it’s not like he’s trying to imply something with this kid. Sleeping with roommates just scream incest and disaster, and Greg was no Lannister, even if he did like golden lions.

He almost snorted when Dem chastised him for availing a guide. Of course he would. “Sorry we’re not all strong independent black women who need no man,” said Greg, rolling his eyes, “I’m guessing you filled out all your paperwork yourself? Already know how to distinguish the research complex from the classrooms? Know where the infirmary is? Discovered that Hammel has an Olympic-sized pool?” Oh how he’d love the day he’d see this little shit asking for help. And with the way things seemed to be going, Greg won’t have to wait for too long.

“Tape, darling. You use tape.” He tried to hide his shock when Dem took his arm off his sling and almost reprimanded him for it, but decided he’d rather not waste time thinking for the boy’s well-being. If his previous reactions would be any indication, Greg would just get rebuffed and insulted. So not worth it. “Hallelu,” he replied, rolling his eyes and walking back to his couch. Dem had been fun, but Tyler Posey and Dylan O’Brien were just so much better.

“If you’re done unpacking, I still have a few house rules to tell you, so just let me know! You do not want to be on the receiving end of Dylan’s telekinetic tantrum.”

[Demetrius Wolfbane]

Demetrius just stared at Gregory when the other gave a description of what he chose to do with his free time. Green eyes widened only momentarily before a sneer crossed his face to cover the urge to smile. While he would love to come up with some kind of insult to degrade Greg's sexual preference it really wouldn't do since it would sort of be like insulting himself. Instead his mind was just sort of supplying the words 'he's gay' over and over before he spoke. "Kinda sad that you only have your fingers for company."

With that said he felt slightly better about the whole situation (whatever that situation was). A feeling that was immediately taken away by Greg's smart ass comment about him being a black woman. The sort of holier-than-thou tone Demetrius heard in the other's voice, that may or may not have been his own imagination, was causing him to bristle. He could damn well find out where things were! Except.. The infirmary.. Demetrius' pride wilted some as he realized he'd have to ask for Greg's help before the day was even over or risk getting an angry doctor. Again.

Demetrius just rolled his eyes at Greg's answer to his question. He really didn't see the need to justify the overly flamboyant (in his head) 'hallelu' with an answer. So instead he just grabbed a hold of his door and shut it, purposely hard, so the other would know not to disturb him. "And get dressed!" This was thrown with a hasty yell through the door as he remembered once he left he'd be confronted by the scantily clad male. After that it was just a case of removing his grey t-shirt bedsheets from his bag cover up the mattress while he had a sort of mental discussion with himself pertaining to how exactly he was going to be able to ask someone for help when he barely knew the person.

Once done with the task of his bedsheets, Demetrius repacked his things into the bag and left the medical file on the bed. Which he sat down on to stare at the folder, bringing his knees to his chest to.. Do something.. Maybe as a protective instinct or something. As the green eyes continued burning holes into the folder he slowly became aware of the deep tiredness in his body (probably due to not having slept since he left Texas) and an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. Which he could only describe as "hunger". These two things spurred the winged boy to grab the folder and vacate his room with an uncomfortable sneer. Just... Hold my tongue...

Demetrius opened the door slowly and poked his head out to check on the location of his roommate before heading to where the familiar sounds were playing. [t]Teen Wolf[/i] was once more displayed on the screen, though this time is was continually playing. So the boy clutched his folder to his chest before walking around the couch to sit on the floor in front of the TV. His exposed back was turned to Greg, slit open along his spine, while he pretended the male didn't exist. It was easier this way. Easier to pretend Greg wasn't there while Dem tried to think of a way to ask for directions to the infirmary without getting made fun of. And hopefully without saying something stupid or hurtful again.

[Greg Mackenzie]

Greg couldn’t help but laugh at Dem’s snarky response. He really walked into that one. And the smaller boy’s response would’ve hit real hard, had Greg not fully internalized how woefully single he was a few weeks back. Life was just so much easier when you’re with the crowd laughing at yourself.

And besides, Dem’s surface thoughts proved rather interesting. He’s gotten the ‘he’s gay’ thought several times before, but with a different tone. Usually they’re of shock, or a neutral reminder that he batted for the other team. But this one, as much as it was a reminder that Greg was indeed gay, the tone was a little more…excited. It wasn’t too excited, but just enough to make the telepath laugh even more. Oh this little tidbit about Grumpy was great, great indeed.

“You could always come join me if you like,” he said before leaving the doorframe, “But you’re not exactly my type. And I don’t think your ‘fingers’ are big enough.” He made sure to use those ratchet air quotes as he said ‘fingers’, and even gave Dem a wink. That should shut the little twink up.

The telepath almost choked in laughter as Dem shut the door in the middle of him shoving three chips to his mouth. He didn’t even realize he was naked until Dem reminded him, and boy was he not planning on getting dressed for quite some time. It’s too much work. Maybe when he finished Season 3A.

Demetrius took exactly one episode to do whatever it was he did in his room before he went out. Greg eyed him as he went around the couch, like a vulture scanning its prey, and settling down not too far in front of him. He was just about to ask what that was about when he noticed the boy holding on a folder like it was a matter of life and death. And when he sat down, a huge slit running down his back. Just when Greg thought he knew almost everything there was to know about this loudmouthed piece of work, shit just gets weirder.

“Here, have some. They’re not exactly gourmet food, but they should work at the moment. I’m planning on grabbing dinner in two hours.” He handed the bowl of chips to the boy and pointed to the dips he had on the centre table. Dem’s free to figure out where the cafeteria was though, but Greg figured it’d be easier if someone was to show him around. “So as I was saying, ground rules. Food is labeled in our mini kitchen. Take something that ain’t yours, trust me I would know and shit will get real real fast.. If you’re planning on having sex in your room, please let us know before hand – be it through text, a sock on the door, anything. And don’t get too loud. Shoes are also to be left in that white shoe rack by the door. And clean after yourself.”

He noticed that there seemed to be something really urgent that the boy wanted to ask, and since he’s starting to work on not prying indiscriminately, he decided to give the boy an opening. “Any questions?”

[Demetrius Wolfbane]

"A matter of life and death" might have been a bit melodramatic to describe the way Demetrius was treating the folder. He wouldn't really die if it didn't get to the infirmary, but it could mean him getting broken and not fixed. Or going blind like his uncle had so long ago. Neither of which were things Demetrius could say he would look forward to. Plus, if he didn't deliver it then he wouldn't really be able to accomplish his first true self sufficient task.

His train of thought was diverted when Greg unceremoniously handed him a bowl of chips, causing the green eyed boy to turn his eyes to the male. Why was he still naked? Well.. Mostly naked. Demetrius blinked rapidly to break his stare and turned to the chip bowl, suddenly remembering Greg's earlier comments. The young boy hadn't really ever met an openly gay male before, so he wasn't quite sure what to think about the situation. Was he supposed to be happy that he had the opportunity to make sure he was gay? Not that he'd do that with Greg.. Greg was still an ass.. An ass that was probably better than all the drunken fumbling that only one party (Demetrius) would remember in the morning that he'd gotten before. Still staring at the chip bowl Demetrius frowned to himself, mental images of exactly how that sort of situation would occur between the two of them popping up in his head to distract him from the bowl of food in his lap. It sort of helped that Greg hadn't yet dressed because it gave Dem a pretty good canvas to start from.

After a few minutes of this silent pondering Demetrius hummed, putting the bowl back on the table without so much as taking a single chip. He had decided that they could just switch, if this situation ever were to occur. Focusing back on Greg, who was still just this side of naked, he finally spoke in a slightly less biting tone than before. Imagining the usefulness of not being clothed did that to a person. "Do I take of my shoes at the door then? Like some kind of Japanese place?" This was really the only retort he could think of since he didn't feel like bringing up anything sexual (minus the odd image still flashing in his head of course), and the food thing wasn't an issue with Demetrius since he wasn't planning on eating in front of these people. Unless... "Do... Do you have apples here?..." More kindness coming out of his mouth. Demetrius had to resist the urge to pat himself on the back for that one, since it seemed his plan was finally working. He just had to speak slowly or not speak at all. Or picture Greg in inappropriate situations, apparently.

There was a pause, though, when Greg asked for questions as the boy stiffened some. It was the perfect opportunity to ask about the infirmary, but Demetrius still didn't wanna stoop to that level. Eventually, the desire to try being self sufficient won out. "Where the fuck is the infirmary?"

((OMG! SO SHORT! Paaaar-tay.
Also. Feel free to picture whatever you'd like as to what Dem is picturing. He's imaginative. Just... Greg and Dem start in the mini movie XD
....
You can't say you've never done the same to someone you've just met, because I have and I'm completely normal.))

[Greg Mackenzie]

With Demetrius sitting on the floor mere paces away, Greg had to constantly remind himself not to sit with his legs too far apart. The towel haphazardly wrapped around his waist was the only thing on him after all, and he’s fairly sure flashing Oscar the Grouch wouldn’t earn him any favours. Even if the Grouch loved dick and all.

Just when he thought things couldn’t get any more complicated, he started getting flashes of the other boy’s thoughts. And boy were they something. If there’s one way he could describe Grumpy right then, it would’ve been detail-oriented. (Either that, or extremely thirsty). Greg actually found himself getting excited because of the whole thing – partly ‘cause his telepathy allowed him to feel what other people felt, and partly ‘cause Demetrius’ imagination was actually quite hot, even if he got Greg’s position wrong – that he had to actually cross his legs and lean forward to put his arms over his crotch. He didn’t go full mast no, but he figured had he left himself in his previous position, someone would’ve taken it to the moon and back.

After all, he gave Demetrius a straw and the boy made a space shuttle out of it; who knows what he’d do to a full-on shipyard.

The telepath was a little too concerned with taking care what could’ve been quite the disaster stirring in between his legs that he didn’t even had time to reply to Dem’s inquiry with the proper snark it deserved. “Hmm, yeah, sure,” he said absentmindedly, putting the bowl on his lap and taking more deep breaths, as he tried to conjure all those gross images he used to last longer with his ex-boyfriend in bed.

It was Dem’s weird question that pulled him back to, well, more or less manageable boner territory though (i.e. semi-hard-landia). “Apples?” asked Greg, eyebrows cocked, “What are you, some kind of a horse?” It took a split-second before he realized what he just said and, well, he’s back to the danger zone.

“Infirmary’s on the right wing of the first floor of the administrative building,” answered the Canadian teen, “Need me to take you there?” He’d have to find a way to sneakily get into his clothes without Demetrius noticing anything out of the ordinary though. Which was easier said than done, considering how he’s still picking up traces of them graphic thoughts. Flattering to be honest, but not what he would’ve wanted at this moment.

[Demetrius Wolfbane]

Well. In all fairness, the boy did read a lot. Pornographic things were bound to get thrown into the mix at some point. So it was relatively easy for him to picture Greg and himself in frankly immoral situations. He just changed up the location, and who got to be in charge. A few items of leather briefly appeared before they were discarded from the fantasy, since Demetrius didn't actually like that sort of thing. Nor did that sort of thing fit Greg. Which is the whole purpose of this little mental movie. Except, of course, the more Demetrius thought of it the more he decided that Greg would look hot like that. If they could both manage to keep their mouths shut that was. Maybe some handy dandy duck tape would help with that?

It didn't help when actually turned his head to talk to Greg, either. That just refreshed his canvas. So more sweat filled images when through his head, though they were relatively steamier than the others. Being in a shower could do that. In his head at least he could take the top position every once in awhile, which led to him believe that not only was Greg hot like that. But he also looked devilishly good on his back. Demetrius pulled away from his thoughts long enough to realize he was actually growing his own problem. A quick green-eyed glance to Greg's position to make sure the other couldn't see before he was casually placing the medical file over his lap. There. That would.. Probably cover it.

He could focus back on the task at hand, turning to look at Greg directly even while more porn started playing in his head. This one mostly focused on sounds though, so the position was mildly bland. Just your casual kitchen counter being used inappropriately. Speaking of kitchen... How was he supposed to answer the male without telling him blatantly that he likes apples? Demetrius wasn't really sure what he would do if he didn't have apples. Probably just starve though. "Ass! You're the-" This died quickly in his mouth due to the fact Demetrius didn't really want to introduce a "who's bigger" spin on his mental move. With another adjustment to his file he sneered at Greg, which was usually the closest thing he could get to a smile. "I like apples, okay? Do you fuckers just not eat healthy or something?"

The mental movie was sort of slowing to a stop since Demetrius had decided that he could stand his roommate. If just kept looking like that all the time. Plus Dem had picked his favorite looks for Greg, one of which he thought he might look good in. It was standing up but Dem was looking more like a monkey (being clingy) than he was willing to admit to. "Yeah..." There. He could do kindness. Or, well, he could do with it while he was distracted trying to make sure the folder stayed FLAT. He wasn't so much worried about becoming excited, as he was about somehow alerting Greg to his problem. Teasing would ensue and Dem was pretty sure he'd just hit the boy or something, because if frustration couldn't be taken out one way it could be taken out another.

[Greg Mackenzie]

It seemed like there’s just no stopping Dem.

Greg’s still flattered yes, but at this point, with the risk of being embarrassed beyond his wildest dreams because of another boy’s increasingly wild dreams – leather? Really?! – it’s starting to get a little cumbersome. He tried taking deep breaths to calm himself. Did the whole knuckle by the side of his fist to draw blood away from his incriminating crotch. Thought of the most ghoulish scenes in American Horror Story: Coven and Game of Thrones. Distracted himself with Dylan O’ Brien and Daniel Sharman and Tyler Posey in the screen.

And yet it did nothing.

In fact, the images kept on getting more and more vivid in Greg’s mind. The way Dem imagined he’d be moving like that or arching his back that way, well, it was crazy. Then that image of them doing it while standing up came, and Greg felt like he just fucking lost it. It was one of those things that Greg knew was bad for him, but he just can’t help himself. Like chocolate. Or soy milk.

He had to stop this. Once and for all.

Grabbing one of the throw pillows, he shamelessly put it over his crotch as he stood up and walked towards his room. (Which, unfortunately for him, was along the same side as the TV screen). “Who’s the one asking for a favour here again?” He just can’t look at Dem straight right now. Or ever. At least for the next few weeks. God this’ll be harder than he though it’d be. “Don’t think we have apples but I have some bananas by the counter. Help yourself. I’ll just change and I’ll be back to get you to the infirmary.” But first he needed to help himself. And by helping himself he meant rubbing one out. Because there was just no getting off in his predicament any other way, pun totally intended.

Since he had to give the monkey a few spankings, Greg took a little bit more time than usual to get ready. Dem’s thoughts helped, but the fact that Greg’s using his thoughts to fuel his imagination and that they’re separated by a mere wooden door somehow made things harder too. “Ok, so where to now?” he said as he emerged from his room, dressed in a simple tank top and jean shorts, huge grin of relief on his face. “Just help me clean up here and we’ll head straight to the infirmary and down to dinner.”

[Demetrius Wolfbane]

"The one holding a pillow to his hard-on"

The words slipped out before he could stop them and if Demetrius had had any other train of thought he might have been mortified. But as it happened, his green eyes were trained on the throw pillow Greg had thrown over his lap. And there was only one reason to hold a pillow there while walking somewhere. Well, two reasons but Demetrius hadn't seen the male spill something on him. Granted he had no way of knowing for why Greg would have a hard on... But Demetrius was dead sure that's what the problem was. "Let me guess... Gunna go test the reach of your fingers again?" Demetrius squirmed uncomfortably as he pressed the folder down harder. A few more solo Greg scenes passed through his brain as he pictured that particular scenario. "Or you think you need... Help?" He was officially mortified now. Words were coming out of his mouth and he wasn't even thinking about them. Was this a result of being nice? If so... He was never going to do it again. He'd go back to cussing at everyone if it meant he wasn't suggesting that.

However that beautiful attempt to offer to help make his thoughts a reality, Greg walked away and hid in his room. Leaving Demetrius alone with his thoughts... And his hand. The winged male sighed and turned to flop on his stomach, doing a wonderful rendition of "spread eagle". Demetrius slowly shut his eyes, relaxing into the floor as he focused on trying to unfold his wings rather than any of the mental images of what Greg was doing behind that door. Eventually large brown wings sprouted from where the slit on his shirt was spread out. He smiled and glanced back, carefully spreading them out in the limited space. This, this he could do. Even if it was making him dreadfully hungry.

Green eyes flicked up as the door finally opened and Dem sneered, his wings flicking some before folding against his back. "I need to go to my room." Was all he could say, barely shrugging before he pulled himself off the floor in a slight wave of dizziness that had him stumble briefly. The now properly winged boy turned and hurried back to his room off of the kitchen, searching through his bag before he found a smaller cooler bag. Pulling it open, Demetrius gently lifted an apple from the small bunch he'd hidden for just this purpose. After that he picked up the bag and headed to the living room once more, taking a rather large bite of his apple with a nervous flutter of his wings. "Now what?"