Chapter Text
Newton Geiszler looks fantastic in a skirt, thank you very much. Sadly, his high school was somewhat unprepared for—gasp!—a seemingly male student wanting to be a cheerleader, and as such had refused to allow him to cheer for the first few basketball games of his first year while they ordered a uniform for him that wasn’t a skirt, despite his insistence that he could totally pull it off.
That was two years ago, back when he was just an itty bitty freshman (who was maybe supposed to be in eighth grade and had maybe already graduated and just come back to high school for the fun of it) and since then, he’d been on the cheerleading squad every year. But always basketball. He wouldn’t touch the football cheerleaders with a ten foot pole. Those girls were downright vicious.
Plus there was the added bonus of the entire basketball team being gorgeous. Sometimes he wondered who were the most delicious eye candy; the cheerleaders, or the basketball team. Probably depended on who you asked. It was this hypothesis that led him to voice his questions in the middle of a chemistry lab that he’d done a thousand times already and could have done with his eyes closed and both hands tied behind his back.
“Yo, Tendo,” he whispered, and Tendo almost dropped the bottle of chemicals in his hand. A student from the table behind them made an irritated noise, and the room went back to being utterly silent. Newt stared at the black top of the lab table for exactly ten seconds before trying again. “Tendo.”
“What,” Tendo hissed, cautiously eyeing the concoction before him. It was dark blue. It was supposed to be red.
“For one, you did the steps in the wrong order, and if you continue without fixing it, you’re probably gonna lose your eyebrows. For two, do you think the cheerleaders are hotter than the basketball team?”
Tendo made a somewhat angry noise in the back of his throat. He stood without a word and hurried to the nearest sink, dumping out his failed bottle of whatever they were supposed to be making—Newt had quit listening after a few minutes of instructions; he’d already passed high school and was working on his bachelor’s—and rinsed violently. Newt watched impassively while Tendo sat back down and began again, carefully reading the instructions without answering Newt’s question.
“Am I hotter than the basketball team?” he repeated, and Tendo leveled a frown of epic proportions on him.
“Some of them, yes. However, some of the cheerleaders are much more attractive than you. And I prefer to focus on personality, too, in which case, they’re all preferable,” Tendo whispered. Newt sighed and gave up on getting anything of value done this period. Annoying Tendo would have to do.
“Dude, which cheerleader do you think is hotter than me? They’re all nice people, you know. Except Sasha, but that’s only because she’s Russian and I think they’re all scary over there. And Mako would beat you up, too. Anyway, I could set you up with one of them. Or, I could try,” he offered.
“What I would like to do is pass this class, which I’m not going to do if you don’t shut your trap,” Tendo spat, and Newt decided to leave him alone. He’d restart the conversation next period, when he had someone else to talk to once Tendo inevitably gave up and started ignoring him.
XXXXX
Their next period was hell. Actually, it was gym, but those two were synonymous. Anything that made innocent children run around in circles and hit each other with rubber balls was on the same level as eternal flame and damnation, anyway. Whoever came up with it deserved to burn.
Today’s punishment of choice was that old favorite, basketball. Their school was predominately a basketball school, probably because their football team was awful and everyone basically pretended it didn’t exist. The only good part of a football game was their marching band. They drew more of a crowd than the football players ever did.
“I don’t see why I should have to play basketball,” Newt groaned. He’d somehow ended up on the same team as most of his friends, so he had someone to complain to. “I mean, I already attend every single game. Why must I be subjected to this torture?”
“Because it’s the law that every high school student take at least one year of gym. And now that we’re juniors, we can’t put it off much longer, so we’re taking it now. And you’re just stupid for coming to high school in the first place,” Tendo replied, eyes glued to the orange ball he was dribbling. Poorly, at that.
“I would push you down so you could pretend to be hurt and be excused today,” Sasha offered, and Tendo dropped his ball. He honestly looked terrified. Then again, everyone who didn’t regularly associate with Sasha and her boyfriend were terrified of them. Newt couldn’t figure out why. Once you got past the Russian accent and impressive strength, they were both really nice people. Okay, it was a little scary that they’d both managed to get sent to the same school, but she’d explained that that was just an error on their home schools’ part. Anyway, Aleksis was a pretty good basketball player, and that was all that truly mattered at Pan-Pacific High.
“That would be magnificent, Sasha,” Newt declared, and she grinned at him. Tendo cleared his throat, real fear in his eyes. Newt laughed and Sasha joined in, all while Tendo blinked in confusion. “But I don’t think it would seem like a good idea afterward.”
“Probably not,” Mako agreed, inserting herself seamlessly into their conversation under the guise of guarding them. Of the four, she’d ended up on the other team, who were currently winning. Truth be told, if they all got their heads in the game, the teams would be pretty evenly matched. However, most of the people on Newt’s team had dismissed the rest of the day as a lost cause. After all, it was Friday, and there was a basketball game that night.
The gym teacher—who was also the basketball coach, and the vice principal—blew his whistle at them from his position on the sidelines. Apparently, he’d been paying actual attention to the game. “Geiszler, Choi, come on! This is a game, not a gab session!”
“With all due respect sir,” Newt began, and Coach Hansen rolled his eyes. The rest of the class slowed down a bit to listen in. “I don’t feel obligated to play this sport. I will never play this sport seriously. Instead I will be on the sidelines, making sure the moral is high and our team is in good spirits. And if I, a cheerleader, am forced to play basketball, why are the basketball players not forced to try cheerleading?”
Newt may or may not have taken a course on public speaking.
The room was dead silent but for the occasional thump of bouncing balls or squeak of sneakers. Coach Hansen studied Newt with careful eyes, calculating. Newt wasn’t entirely sure he would like the outcome.
“Okay, Geiszler, the way I see it, I have two options. I can either tell you to shut up and keep playing, or I can ignore you and you can keep playing on you own. Pick one.” Coach Hansen’s expression was blank but his eyes were alive, watching Newt closely.
Luckily, Newt was kept from answering by a very frantic student dashing in, whispering in Coach Hansen’s ear, and dashing back out without another word. The blood ran out of the coach’s face and he froze, before muttering, “Class dismissed” and walking stiffly from the gym.
The rest of the day was nowhere near as fun as arguing with Coach Hansen.
XXXXX
Newt really hated the tracksuit thing they made him wear, but he knew for a fact that half the others would kill to be wearing something other than the teeny skirt, so he put up with it. That didn’t stop him from wondering exactly who decided that the girls should wear itty bitty outfits while he was stuck in baggy envelope of cheap fabric. Whoever it was, he really wanted to have a few words with them.
The first half of the game went pretty smoothly, with a comfortable lead early on and the other team’s moral pretty low from the start. It was always exhilarating, being part of a screaming mass of fans like this, jumping around and chanting for your team, doing occasional cartwheels when it felt right. The other cheerleaders were all grinning and sometimes Aleksis would turn and give them a wave, to which they would all cheer as loud as they could, because of all the basketball players he was probably the one they hung out with most. Probably not the best looking, though. That honor was reserved for Newt’s personal favorite. His number was twelve and he was tall, lanky, and generally looked like he hated everyone and everything. He also had really good cheekbones. Now if only Newt knew his name, or possibly had a class with him… Or if only Newt had ever interacted with him further than receiving glares or occasionally seeing each other in the hallways between classes.
At halftime the other team’s cheerleaders did their show, which included a lot of jumping but not a lot of choreography or grace. It was alright, Newt supposed, but their routine was better. There was a reason they were a favorite at the state cheerleading championships every year.
“Hey, Newt?” Allison asked, timid.
“Yeah?” he replied, distractedly watching the other team’s cheerleaders lift their captain into the air. It was a classic move, a crowd favorite, and they were quite good at it. Almost better than his own. “What do you need?”
“I was wondering… your friend Tendo. Is he… single?” she whispered, blushing, and he almost laughed.
“Single? Yes, very. Lonely? Also very. Crushing on you? Most likely,” he said conspiratorially, and she giggled. “You should totally ask him for coffee or something. Actually, no, that’s a bad idea. You never want to see Tendo with caffeine in his system. Maybe a movie at the drive-in. That’s still open, right?”
“I think so,” Mako broke in. Allison jumped a little, obviously startled by Mako’s sudden appearance. That girl was like a ninja sometimes; stealthy, flexible, agile, and scarily good at getting information from someone who didn’t want to talk. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d accidentally spilled a secret that was better off kept to himself. This was a bad thing, seeing as her father was the principal of their school, and thus had the power to enact disciplinary measures.
“Good, take him there,” Newt finished. Allison nodded and was about to say something else, but it was their turn to take to the middle of the gym floor and do some sort of acrobatics.
Their routine involved a lot of leaping and minimal lifting, mainly because it was still only about halfway through the season and they didn’t want to overstress themselves before the bigger games. The crowd’s enthusiasm didn’t need much boosting, anyway. In fact, almost every person in the stands looked awake, alert, and alive, proudly wearing their slate grey and dark blue in support of the Pan-Pacific High Jaegers. They even cheered for the cheerleaders.
The squad finished their routine with just barely enough time for them to get back into their designated corner. The game started up again, with entirely new players on the field. Coach Hansen must have been giving their starters a break.
“What’s his name?” Mako asked, pointing. Newt wanted to reply sarcastically that it was kind of hard to tell when there was so much running involved, but he knew exactly who she was indicating. Everyone paid attention to him; Raleigh Becket, number twenty-four and the holder of the school record for highest vertical jump. He was also pretty good at math.
“Raleigh Becket. He’s pretty good, I guess, and kinda hot if you squint,” Allison replied. Sasha laughed and Mako raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow, a dangerous glint in her eyes. They all fell silent.
“Ask him if he has a date to prom,” Newt suggested to quell the awkward feeling that was slowly seeping into the conversation.
“Maybe I will,” Mako replied smoothly. Damn, that girl had skill.
“If you ask Raleigh, I’ll ask Tendo,” Allison offered.
“I will ask Aleksis,” Sasha added, and Newt snorted.
“You’re already a couple, Sasha,” he pointed out. They immediately launched into a small argument in fluent Russian, mainly consisting of curses and insults.
Allison cleared her throat, and they halted their bickering long enough to check the score—they were winning by eight points with about seven minutes to go in the third quarter—and listened raptly. She grinned wickedly, the dim light of their corner highlighting her high cheekbones and making the lighter roots of her dark hair shine. “We’re going to make a deal,” she announced, clearly and confidently.
Newt immediately balked. “No. You remember what happened last time.”
“Of course I do,” Allison simpered, batting her thick eyelashes. “Nothing bad happened.”
“Ali. A car was stolen. I spent the night in jail and I still have the scars,” he deadpanned, and she sighed, sounding very put-upon.
“Yes, but you think the scars make you look badass. Don’t even try to deny it. Plus, the guy didn’t even press charges, and you got to joyride in his car. And you got to hook up with a hot nurse,” Allison protested. Mako narrowed her eyes, probably wondering exactly what happened last time the cheerleaders made a deal.
Newt blinked several times, wondering exactly how Allison could be this thick. “After I had anti-venom pumped into my veins.”
“You had fun,” she declared.
“I almost got expelled from my college,” he insisted, and she flipped a hand through the air nonchalantly.
“You had fun,” she insisted. The game clock blared, signaling a timeout. “This conversation will resume when gameplay resumes.”
The four cheerleaders took their place in the center of the court, did one of those chanting cheers that involved shouting for the crowd to give them letters, and retreated back to their space. The buzzer blared and the sound of tennis shoes squeaking on the tan tile flooring filled the tiny gym.
“Alright, ladies, what do you say?” Allison asked, making direct eye contact with each of them in turn. “We’re all going to ask our crushes if they’d like to see a movie or get coffee with us. Any rules you’d like to instate?”
Newt raised his hand. “I’d like to abolish the collective referring to us as ‘ladies.’”
Allison nodded. “Acceptable. Anything else?”
No one said anything, and Allison’s grin was wicked. She held her hand out expectantly, and the others placed theirs on top. As head cheerleader, Newt’s hand was required by ancient Pan-Pacific High custom to be the last on the pile. He extended it slowly, cautiously, more than a little put off by the look on Allison’s face. Sometimes he was very glad that he’d never met any of her siblings. He’d heard that she had several, and if they were anywhere near as bad as her, they’d probably take over the world one day soon.
“We hereby agree to ask our crushes on dates. Every one of us who does not have a significant other will comply to this, and will be the first go-to in case of rejection. By agreeing to this pact, you agree to keep your couch open for anyone who needs a shoulder to cry on, and Friday nights free in case of double dates,” Allison recited. Mako and Sasha exchanged matching eye rolls. Newt wondered exactly why he was a part of this deal, seeing as he had no one he actually wanted to spend time with non-platonically. His bachelor’s degree was far more important, and the only person in school that he could possibly see himself “crushing on” was a basketball player who hated everyone.
They sealed the deal and turned their attention back to the game.
“So, I’m going to see if Tendo wants to do something, Mako is going to introduce herself to Raleigh, and Sasha will probably continue dating Aleksis. Who are you going to go after?” Allison pressed, leaning heavily on Newt’s shoulder. She tucked a strand of hair behind an ear and watched the game attentively, sometimes glancing at the other side of the court, where the pep club was screaming on the sidelines. Tendo, the president, looked like he’d downed a few coffees before coming.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he hedged. “I don’t really have my eye one anyone.”
“We both know that’s a lie.”
“Is not!”
“Is too!”
Allison rolled her eyes. “Sweetie, we both know that you think that one basketball player is hot. What’s his number again? Twelve?”
Sasha, having overheard, made a small appraising sound in the back of her throat, shrugging. “That’s Hermann Gottlieb. He’s one of their best players, but he’s not a starter. Aleksis says he’s highly intelligent.”
“I don’t think he’s hot,” Newt said, a bit too defensive.
“That’s a lie,” Mako announced simply, and Newt turned a very dark shade of red.
“Fine, maybe I think he’s a little bit hot. But I’ve never actually spoken to him. And the one time I tried, I introduced myself and he glared until I left. And then he muttered angrily in German,” Newt protested, and Sasha patted him on the back sympathetically. He tried not to wince. For such a tiny person, she was really strong.
“If at first you don’t succeed,” Allison sang. She sounded very much like Tendo, and Newt was suddenly afraid for what the future would hold if their impending relationship worked out. Oh God, there were two of them. And in a few years, there could be more.
“Fine! If you’re going to act like stereotypical Hollywood cheerleaders and pressure me into asking out the hottie, then I’ll humor you. But as soon as you start wearing all pink and being cruel to the freshmen, I’m out.” He crossed his arms angrily and didn’t participate in the next three cheers. On the fourth, Mako glowered at him until he joined in.
Exactly how these people became his friends, he did not know.
XXXXX
“Newton Geiszler, you’re going to be late!”
Newt sat bolt upright in bed, clutching the blankets as if they’d save him from an attacker. At first glance, everything looked normal; sunshine yellow walls, cluttered bookshelves, window wide open, little circle bouncing around the black screen of his sleeping computer. Then he noticed Tendo perched at the foot of his bed, clutching a steaming styrofoam cup of coffee and a bagel in the same hand, far too cheery for so early on a Saturday. All the fight drained out of Newt, and he slumped back onto his pillow with a sigh of relief.
“You almost gave me a heart attack,” he grumbled, flinging a hand over his eyes. Was the sun really required to be so bright?
“I’m your ride to Robotics Club, kid. Since you can’t legally drive yet,” Tendo teased. Newt grumbled unintelligibly and rolled over. “Honestly, I don’t know why you even signed up for Robotics Club. Isn’t your major biology or something?”
“Biology, yeah, but it’s good to be well-rounded. Also, get the hell out of my room before I make my dad get the shotgun.”
“Actually, it was him that let me in. And he says to make sure you get up using whatever force necessary.” Tendo smirked and grabbed a fistful of the worn comforter, one eyebrow raised threateningly. “I will yank this blanket off of you. And we both know you sometimes sleep naked.”
“And we both know you totally want to yank the blanket off anyway,” Newt shot back, and Tendo mimed throwing up violently. They stared at each other for a few seconds more, each daring the other to act. Finally, after Tendo blinked slowly as if to say that he had all day, Newt admitted defeat by throwing his hands into the air and groaning angrily. “I hate you.”
“You love me,” Tendo correctly gently. “I’ll be in the living room with your dad until you come down. Every ten minutes it takes, I tell another embarrassing story. I think I’ll start with that one time the cheerleaders made you steal that guy’s car.”
“Damn you,” Newt hissed, and leapt out of bed as soon as the sound of Tendo’s laughter had disappeared down the stairs.
It took him exactly seven minutes to get ready and drag his friend out the door.
XXXXX
Somehow—probably thanks to the fact that Tendo drove like a maniac on LSD—they managed to get to the school ten minutes early, and without damaging Tendo’s ancient red Ford. Newt didn’t even spill the coffee Tendo had thrust into his hands, which was a miracle in and of itself.
The classroom that had been delegated for Robotics Club meetings was small, and they were somewhat pressed for space. The desks were split into two groups with a path down the middle with the two halves facing each other, presumably so a teacher could keep an eye on all the students at once. The Robotics Club usually used it as a line between seniors and juniors, successfully keeping the two groups from—horrified gasp!—intermingling. The seniors clumped on the far side of the room, closest to the windows and furthest from the younger, and thus lesser, human beings. Newt didn’t know most of their names, but he recognized Coach Hansen’s son Chuck among them, along with two of the Wei triplets and Raleigh Becket’s brother. Sitting in the middle of junior turf were Raleigh Becket, Allison, and a few assorted sophomores and freshmen who felt safer among the juniors than by themselves. He and Tendo took their customary seats next to each other in junior space.
Newt frowned to himself. Something was off. It took him a moment to figure out what was wrong, but when he did, he had to restrain himself from gaping in shock, complete with jaw on the floor and eyes the size of saucers. There was new addition to the club. And he was a basketball player.
Sure, there were other basketball players in the club—the Becket brothers, the Wei brothers, Chuck Hansen—but they were mostly there to destroy stuff with combat robots, not to enjoy building and innovating new technologies. And this was no ordinary basketball player. No, this was a basketball player that he’d never expected to see outside of games. A basketball player who was even more attractive close up. A basketball player that Newt had kinda sorta been pressured into talking to by his pompom-toting friends.
Newt’s first reaction was to turn to Tendo and gesture angrily, but Tendo seemed to be wrapped up in a conversation with a blushing Allison. So really, there was nothing left to do but stare a little.
Hermann was sitting calmly in a desk on the senior side of the room, though Newt distinctly remembered him being a junior. He was also deeply engrossed in a debate with another student, and seemed to be winning. Newt leaned a little bit closer to try to listen in on their conversation about—theoretical physics?
“What you have to understand is that theoretical physics are very different from experimental physics in the first place,” Hermann was saying, and Newt hadn’t noticed until then how thick his accent was. British. How quaint.
“How so?” the other senior asked, and Hermann looked about ready to murder the guy for pure stupidity.
Newt really couldn’t help himself. “Theoretical physics involves mathematic models to explain and predict things, while experimental physics uses physical tools to explain the things theoretical physics explains.” Crude, but it would satisfy the masses.
“Nearly,” Hermann allowed, and Newt suppressed a grin. Maybe he some small chance after all.
“I don’t really like physics, myself. Sure, they’re interesting and all, but biology is where it’s at.” Out of the corner of his eye Newt could see Tendo mouthing here we go again to Allison. “I mean, cells alone are so cool, man. They’re like little tiny factories, and they’re all basically the same but they’re all different, and I’m gonna shut up before I say something that will make everyone think I’m weirder than they already think I am.”
Hermann was staring at Newt appraisingly, as if sizing him up. Most of the other students stopped listening, having heard Newt say something about cells and given up on understanding anything that came out of his mouth. Suddenly, the conversation was one-on-one. “It’s not ‘weird’ to be passionate about your field of study.”
The pure amount of excitement Newt was feeling could have stunned Godzilla. “You think so? Most people just tell me to calm down, or channel the energy into something productive. That’s why I’m a cheerleader.”
“At least you enjoy your sport. I loathe basketball.”
“But Aleksis says you’re good at it.”
“Because I know things like basic Newtonian physics. Force, velocity, rate of speed. The only reason I excel at sports is because I understand how they work.”
“Dude. That’s hardcore,” Newt said. He thought Hermann was hot before. Now, he’s mentally planning to mount a five-year scientific expedition to Antarctica to check the melting rate of the polar ice caps, just in case Hermann’s sheer levels of hotness were directly affecting the rate of global warming. The only thing hotter than a hot dude was a hot dude who understood a little bit of science.
Hermann was about to reply, but the meeting of the Robotics Club was called to order, and their attention was demanded elsewhere.