Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"...Art Club? God Soap, tell me you're fucking joking."

Soap pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing angrily. "Trophy, you have to have some extracurricular club on your school record before getting into a good college! That's why you called me here after all...".

The two of them had been sitting at their lunch table for the whole period, as Soap read off possible clubs for Trophy to join that weren't, as Soap put it, "some of your jock shit".

"Okay. How about Literature?".

"Too many pole-up-their-ass hipsters."

"Puzzle Club?"

"Waste of my time."

"Crochet?"

"Okay, now I know you're fucking with me."

"Drama?".

"Pft, I'm not going to be in a club with all the queer kids."

Soap froze, clenching the list of the clubs. She looked down at the now slightly wrinkled piece of paper in fake concentration. She didn't want to see that asshole in her line of vision or she just might start swinging. "Don't call them that, or I'm not going to help you.", she muttered, still not making eye contact. "Tch. If you insist.". Trophy leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on the lunch table.

"...Alright, there's one more. If you don't like this one, you'll have to pick another one off the list- got it?". Soap smoothed out the list on the table, before reading out the last entry.

"...Newspaper Club."

Trophy thought about it. Like, actually pondered it- the whole thumb-and-forefinger-to-the-chin and-looking-up thing. Newspaper Club? Doesn't sound too hard, he thought. Just write some lame article on the school talent show or that dance recital or whatever that Soap did last week, and he would be good. Despite looking like your typical jock, he was pretty decent at writing essays and shit, so this should be a piece of cake. "Doesn't sound bad- well, not as bad as the rest, I guess. Sign me up, babe." Soap scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Microphone's gonna kick your ass if she hears you calling me that."

"Big deal! I could beat the shit out of your gf- she's built like a fucking twig. Now if you excuse me-". Trophy got up, brushing Dorito crumbs off of his lap. "I have a Newspaper Club to sign up for.". Soap kept her eye on him as he left. As soon as he was out of her sight, she leaned down and fished around in her purse. She eventually pulled out her pink phone, which was adorned with a pink bar of soap keychain sticking out of the headphone jack. She turned on her phone and was greeted with the prom photo of her and Mic as her home screen. God, she was so pretty. She typed in her password and entered the group chat she had spent her whole high school life in.

---

Group Chat: Lesbians Anonymous (nothing about this is anonymous)

Members: ghost tiddies, marshy marsh,★!rock star!★, washy wishy binch, red delicious

washy wishy binch (Soap): fUCK trophy finally left

ghost tiddies (Bow): ghsjkjkdskj holy shit you had to be around him for like. longer than ten seconds?

washy wishy binch (Soap): GOD HE'S THE WORRRRST

washy wishy binch (Soap): he's all like "hgngng im gonna ask you to help me pick a club and then berate you for being a lesbian"

marshy marsh (Marshmallow): UGH! Trophy's just a horrible person, through and through!

★!rock star!★ (Microphone): i remember when soap used to be into him though 

wishy washy binch (Soap): BABE!!!!!!♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

wishy washy binch (Soap): also now i have to kill you

red delicious (Apple): ...who's torphy again?

wishy washy binch (Soap): ME

★!rock star!★ (Microphone): TORPHY

ghost tiddies (Bow): MEEEEEE SJKDSJKJKSDKJ

marshy marsh (Marshmallow): Me too! 

red delicious (Apple): you guys know i have big tbumbs!!!

red delicious (Apple): I MEAN THUMBS!!!

red delicious's username was changed to torphy.

marshy marsh (Marshmallow): It's okay Apple! I love you anyways, big thumbs and all!♥♥

torphy (Apple): Mwah! Mwah! I'm kissing my phone screen rught now!

torphy (Apple): *right

torphy (Apple): Pickle is looking at me kinda weird i'm gonna stop!

marshy marsh (Marshmallow):♥♥♥

wishy washy binch (Soap): period's ending, i gotta go!

wishy washy binch (Soap): also mic! trophy said he could beat you up cause you're skinny

★!rock star!★(Microphone): psh i could beat a god if i wanted to

wishy washy binch (Soap): you're the hottest butch in this chat 

ghost tiddies (Bow): she's the only butch in this chat KAKAHHASJKSAJKSASD

wishy washy binch (Soap): alright NOW i gotta go

wishy washy binch (Soap): Bye!

wishy wash binch has logged off.

---

"Newspaper Club...shit, where is it anyways?", Trophy muttered to himself. "I knew I should've kept that schedule.".

Trophy had been wandering the halls for longer than he'd like to admit. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find that damn newspaper club. He had passed by almost every classroom at least twice (or was it three times?), so there was no way he could've missed it, right?

"Ah, there you are!".

Trophy whipped around, trying to find the source of the noise. "Soap? Is that you?".

"Eh heh. If only...ahem! B-but no!". A tall, green-haired girl poked her head out of the computer lab doorway. "I'm Test Tube, and I'm the president (er, co-president) of the Newspaper Club! Erm...you are Trophy, if I'm correct. Am I?".

"Uh, that'd be me. Surprised some kinda weeb like you would even recognize me.". Trophy nonchalantly strolled past Test Tube into the classroom, whistling with his hands in his pockets. Once he entered the classroom however, his uncaring expression suddenly morphed to one of sheer terror.

 "Oh, you've got to be kidding."

Chapter Text

The second Trophy stepped foot into the Newspaper Club, he immediately knew he made a big mistake. Everywhere he looked, no matter where he stared, there was nothing but...

Geeks.

Now, Trophy was by no means a social outcast. He knew pretty much everyone in this school on a first name basis, even the teachers. But these people? They were all...nobodies! No one in here would make any kind of an impact on society in his eyes.

Test Tube peeked behind him, hands placed daintily on his shoulders. "Ahem.".

Trophy whipped his head around to face her, nearly knocking her over. After stumbling, she readjusted her posture and continued.

"Since, after all, you're our newest member, I think I should introduce you to everyone!".

Trophy turned around to look at the rest of the kids in the class- and not surprisingly, he didn't recognize any of them. Suddenly, Test Tube grabbed onto his wrist and dragged him to the first student- er, students? Two red-headed twins were clashing away at two different keyboards- the two of them were practically indistinguishable from each other! "Alright, this is Cherry and Chehri!", Test Tube introduced. "They erm...don't actually go here. But their mom is the art teacher, so we let them stick around!". Test Tube patted Cherry (or was it Chehri?!) on the head.

As she walked away, Trophy snuck a look at the shared screen of the two twins. The computer was turned off.

The rest of the students seemed to blur together- there was some kid who had a bunch of discarded tissues on his desk, an abnormally tall student of indeterminate gender angrily slamming at their keyboard, Soap was there too, and then...an empty desk.

Test Tube stopped in the middle of the classroom, scratching her head as she looked around. "Oh geez, where is he anyways?", she muttered, tapping her foot. "Hey Dweebmeister, what's the issue? Who are you even-".

Loud footsteps suddenly echoed through the classroom, causing everyone to turn and see what the cause of the noise was, including Trophy. "Whaaaaa tha helllll...", he murmured under his breath.

"AAAAAAAAH! I'M SORRY IM LATE TEST TUBE!!!", came a loud squeaky voice from outside the room.

A short, chubby redhead stood in the doorway, chest heaving with every breath he took. Under his arm, he had a bright red laptop- it was much more hi-tech than the bricks they called "computers" in the lab. He pushed his glasses back onto his nose before running over to Test Tube. "Test Tube, I'm so sorry!", he apologized. "I-I lost track of time and then I was like 'Oh my GOD, Test Tube's gonna kill me!!!' so I'm here now and-". The redhead stopped his train of thought as his gaze slowly moved towards Trophy, who had been watching his rant with furrowed eyebrows.

"Oh uh...hi? I'm Fan, nice to meet you!". Fan extended his hand to Trophy, who looked at his outstretched hand with disinterest. "Trophy.", he said bluntly, looking Fan dead in the eyes. Now, Trophy didn't know what about this kid gave him weird vibes, but it was definitely something. Fan's expression morphed from one of politeness to a more confused look as he turned to Test Tube. "So Test Tube, what's with the sports guy- why's he here?", Fan asked, pointing his thumb behind him at the jock. "Well, u-um...you remember how I mentioned I'd be showing a new kid around the club, correct?", she replied, nervously pushing up her glasses.

"Yeah! Uh, where are they?".

Test Tube paused, before giving him a very wide (and very nervous) grin as she looked over to Trophy.

"Wait, him?! But he's like-".

Trophy cut him off before he could finish. "Yeah yeah, I'm a jock, I shouldn't be here, blah blah. You think I chose to be in this shithole of a club?". He scoffed, turning to look at Fan. "I'm just doing it for the college credit, Geekmeister- your club seemed the least lame out of all the ones here. So stay out my way, and I'll stay out of yours. Got it?". With that, Trophy turned around and walked over to one of the computers.

"Oh geez...", Test Tube muttered.

This is gonna be one interesting semester.

Chapter Text

Trophy plopped down into a computer chair, grumbling to himself. Stupid fuckin' Soap making him sign up for this club, with her fancy rockstar girlfriend and her stupid little phone keychain that always jingles, and-

"Ahem."

Trophy stirred from his mental tirade.

"If you uh, if you still plan on enrolling in our club, you'll need to write us a sample piece before you're allowed in.", said Test Tube from behind him.

Trophy turned around, leaning backward in his chair once he was face to face with her. "Before I'm allowed in? Tch, what kinda' ass-backward logic is that?".

"Well, it isn't, uh, 'ass-backward' at all! This club is very elite, so we must make sure that you're good enough!". Test Tube pushed her glasses up smugly before continuing. "You are good enough, aren't you?".

...Oh, is that how it is?

Trophy chuckled. "You think I can't write a little newspaper article? I bet I can write something in twenty minutes that's better than something that you wrote in an hour.".

"That's the spirit! Your assignment is to write an article on tonight's football game! You have three days to turn it in- the earlier, the better!". With that, Test Tube turned around and walked over to Fan.

Three days? To write about a football game that he was playing in? This club business is easier than he thought...

--

Four hours later, and Fan was hunched over in the front bleachers at one of the school's many late night football games. God, why did he have to write about this stupid football game anyways? The contrast between the night sky and the practically blinding lamps around the field was enough to give him a headache- as if the day's events weren't already enough to do that. Besides the fact that he totally failed his geometry midterm, now he had to deal with the human headache that was Trophy. What the hell was up with that guy?! Just waltzing in like he owns the place, throwing a hissy fit like a seven-year-old...GOD. Just thinking about him was giving him a migraine...

Fan's mind wandered as his eyes drowsily drifted over the sea of football players flooding the field. He could only recognize a couple of faces out of the crowd. First, there was Baseball, the redheaded senior who was definitely the biggest (no pun intended) contender for the most buff player on the team- even more so than that asshole who just joined the newspaper club.

Hoooooly shit, take a chill pill, Fan. Focus on the game. Focus on the players. Focus on...TROPHY?!

There he was, racing across the field to intercept some guy on the other team. Fan didn't really get why he was so surprised- he knew Trophy was on practically every sports team the school offered. He crossed his fingers and hoped that Trophy wouldn't do anything significant enough to be featured in the article for the game-

And he just scored the winning point. Of course.

---

Trophy poked his head into the dark computer room- it was ten minutes before homeroom, so the fact that it was practically abandoned was...kind of weird. Behind him came the loud, slapping sounds of sneakers against the linoleum- and then a shrill voice.

"Oh, Trophy!". Trophy turned quickly and came face to face with that vice-principal girl...Test Tube, right? "You're here early...v-very early, actually. Why are you here?".

Trophy rolled his eyes before thrusting the paper into Test Tube's chest. "Here's my thing."

It took Test Tube a moment to actually understand what Trophy was saying.

"W-wait, this is your piece? For...the newspaper?", she asked incredulously.

"God, for a nerd, you sure are a moron- YES, for the newspaper. I uh...alright, I took some photos too. They look kinda shitty, so you don't have to use them.".

Test Tube's eyes traveled down the paper as she read it, before pushing up her glasses and looking up at Trophy, beaming. "Wow! T-this is very well written! The photos are quite sufficient as well. And you even managed to get it in before-".

She was cut off before she could finish inflating Trophy's ego as a knock came from behind them, causing Test Tube to jump and Trophy to blink in surprise like a normal person. When they both turned around they saw...Fan.

With his article in his hand, looking like he just watched his laptop get shattered or something.

Chapter Text

Fan starts frantically jiggling the doorknob to the computer room, his eyes wide with panic. Trophy lets him fumble with the door for a while longer before huffing, rolling his eyes and getting up to open it for him.

"Door wasn't locked, hotshot." Trophy states bluntly with a raised eyebrow.

"I- yeah, uh, I knew that. Hands were just sweaty, is all, eheh..." Fan chuckles sheepishly, wiping said sweaty hands on the sides of his jeans before squeezing past Trophy and bounding up to Test Tube, paper in hand. "Sorry for being late Test Tube, I slept in a bit. I got the game paper done like you asked, though!"

Like she... what?

"Why'd you make me write a paper on the game if you were gonna make him do the same thing?"

Test Tube's eyes flit to the side as she sucks a breath in through her teeth. "Erm."

"Same th- what?" Fan quirks an eyebrow at Trophy's statement before looking to Test Tube quizzically. "Test Tube, what's he talking about?"

"Oh, the ah... yeah. That. Eh heh." Test Tube looks between Trophy and Fan, wringing her hands together awkwardly. "Ah, well, I can explain."

"Yeah. you'd better." Trophy threatens as he starts to roll up the sleeve of his letterman jacket, causing Test Tube to yelp as she takes a few steps back.

"Wuh- what's violence gonna do here?" Fan throws his arms out in exasperation. "She was already gonna tell you!"

"Well yeah, but maybe this'll make her talk faster."

Fan looks like he's about to interject again, but Test Tube cuts him off.

"Alright, well... Trophy, you're a jock. You, ah... well, Salt spends her study halls in the admissions office filing away papers that Principal MePhone doesn't care enough to organize himself."

"Salt spends free period in the admissions office?"

Are they thinking about the same person? The valley girl who's connected at the hip with Pepper, down to wearing matching monogrammed backpacks? The girl whose broken dress code twice over wearing the same neon pink six-inch heels to class? That one? That Salt? "I thought she skipped those and went down to the mall when the chaperones weren't looking. The fuck made her change her schedule?"

"OJ started going there last week."

"Figures. Keep going."

"Right! Anyways, she always uh, gossips over people's grades since she files report cards- erm, which I really shouldn't listen to since there's a policy on being quiet about those things, but it isn't like the principal really cares- uh- and that's... how I heard you had a C- in English."

"... Yeah? That's still passing, isn't it?"

"Well uh, yyyyyes, but this is the Newspaper club! We have very high standards here!"

Trophy's mind flashes back to seeing the Cherries slamming aimlessly at the keyboard when he had first showed up. "Uh huh."

"And in order to make sure your writing was up to snuff, I wanted to be able to compare it to a piece of writing that was similar to it in nature but not necessarily in writing style. And that's where Fan came in! It was all quite simple in the end- you both write a paper on the same thing, and I make sure Trophy's is at least slightly on the same writing level- and you're in." Test Tube finishes her ramble with a sigh. "Uh, y-you're not going to beat me up now, are you?"

... Trophy breathes out quickly through his nose, rolling his sleeve back down. "Not worth it."

"So... was it up to snuff?" Fan finally pipes up from next to Test Tube.

"Ah... well, I don't know! I haven't gotten to read yours yet. Trophy was even nice enough to take pictures, though, so that wassssss..." Test Tube trails off, seeming to remember Trophy was only a foot or so away from her. She clears her throat awkwardly. "Was, erm, very nice... of you." She quickly leans down to Fan and whispers something in his ear- Trophy can't make out the whole thing, but he hears "more effort than I expected" and pieces the rest of it together from there.

Test Tube quickly scurries off to a side room in the computer room, both papers in hand, and shuts the door behind her.

Alright. Now he's just alone with Fan.

...

Can he just leave? Trophy's just gonna leave. "Alright, I'm leaving." He starts off towards the door before Fan grabs his jacket sleeve- the motion itself isn't enough to stop him, since Fan is about a hundred pounds soaking wet and half his size, but it's certainly enough to surprise him into slowing down. "God, what now."

"It'll take her like, two minutes, Trophy. Can you really not wait that long?"

Huff. "Whatever." Despite himself, Trophy stays, pulling out his phone and mindlessly scrolling on Twitter as he waits for Test Tube's incredibly important and meaningful newspaper club reveal. Oh, what joy. Oh, what a thing of great importance. The room is barely silent for twenty seconds before Fan starts fucking talking again.

"So, uh... how'd you manage to get here before me?" Fan idly tugs at the strings of his hoodie. "I'm usually the first one in here if Test Tube doesn't show up."

Trophy gives Fan's freaky-looking twig body a quick once over before looking down at his own incredibly muscular torso. His eyes meet Fan's. "Take a guess."

"Oh, right. Track team. Wh- well, just cause you're fast doesn't make up for all of it. This is the first room I go to when I get to school!"

"And I get to school half an hour before everyone else for practice, wise guy. It's not hard to beat you here when I'm running across the field and you're still in bed drooling on your pillow and dreaming about anime women."

"Anime men."

"Ohhhh my god, if you start lecturing me about some weeb shit I'm gonna fucking strangle you. I don't wanna hear this shit at seven in the morning- o-or ever, for that matter. Save it for someone who cares."

As if on cue, Test Tube bursts from the room, a wide grin on her face. "Trophy, welcome to the newspaper club!"

God, this is going to suck. This is going to suck so fucking much.