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He totally got his ass handed to him. Again. The jocks insisted on being a complete pain in his ass these days. Jimmy suspected it had something to do with how friendly he had gotten with Mandy these days. What tools. If their head cheerleader would rather rub elbows with the local skinhead, maybe that was on them.
Now it wasn't like Jimmy didn't know how to take a couple hits. He had taken far more than his fair share of beatings, it was just how it went sometimes. You couldn't win every fight, and Jimmy was at peace with that.
However, he was not at peace with Pete getting wrapped into it. Being angry is just adding to his pounding headache, a side effect of getting slammed into the concrete a couple times. He grumbles and tightens his grip on Pete's arm, who is limping beside him.
He doesn't really get it. He told Pete to fuck off. Several times. Everytime Pete would just shut down and refuse to leave. Stubborn bastard. He didn't know if it more annoying or reassuring that Pete is determined to stick with him, thick and thin. It really only was a matter of time before the two of them ended up cornered.
He wanted to respect Pete's resolve, but it wasn't easy to watch the snot get beat out of him. Pete was like… a puppy. No one wants to see a kicked puppy. In fact, the threat of watching the puppy get kicked usually got him to fight a little harder, but the unshakable Jimmy Hopkins can only fend off so many sweaty meat gorillas at once.
So now he has a black eye and a kicked puppy. Great. Perfect, actually. Maybe it's his bruised ego, or maybe he feels like he owes Pete something. He doesn't want to go back to the dorm yet. Neither of them really felt like talking after getting their shit rocked, so Jimmy had just grabbed his arm and started walking, careful to avoid anywhere bruised.
He leads him towards the observatory. When he wasn't busy pounding nerds into the ground, he always thought the back path to their hideout was… scenic. It was a lot easier to look at than most other places in Bullworth. He's a little worried about those little socially inept freaks stalking around in the dark, but losers like them are usually in bed by 8.
It's easy enough to drag Pete up onto one of the many platforms, definitely makes him confront just how sore and bruised he is, but nothing he can't handle.
He finally sits down for the first time since peeling himself off the ground. He leans back on his hands on relaxes. Pete tentatively sits beside him. He seems… fidgety. Jimmy doesn't have it in him to pay him any mind. The night air feels nice, the stars are clear, and Pete makes for decent company, even if there's clearly something bothering him.
Despite Pete's physical anxiety rising, the silence still feels comfortable. At least to him.
He gives it a minute or two before Pete cracks on his own.
He's hunched over, averting his eyes, "Isn't this one of the places you go to make out with girls?"
Jimmy laughs. Right, he remembers telling Pete something about that. When you have as many girls on rotation as Jimmy does, you have to be smart about it. The catfights got boring after awhile. He vaugely remembers explaining his working strategy to finding a perfect make out spot to Pete, and… yeah. This would be a great spot. Quiet, secluded, doesn't smell of garbage… even a tad romantic if he thought about it.
Wow look at that. Romantic. Not even on purpose! He wants to pat himself on the back.
But no. It's almost wasted. Pete looks ready to bolt, he doubts his smoulder would be appreciated here.
"Don't worry Pete, I'm not gonna kiss ya." He assures lightheartedly.
But then Pete visibly deflates a little, "Oh." his voice small.
Huh. That was new.
—-
Oh God. He's fucked up. That was way too honest. Pete stiffens, bracing for impact. He pointedly ignored the confused look Jimmy gives him. He stares straight ahead, the stars forgotten as he prepared for the worse.
On the bright side, Jimmy probably wouldn't deck him right then and there.
But if he did Pete wouldn't blame him. He was already so battered he's not sure one more punch would make a difference.
The silence is going to kill him, but he refuses to open his mouth, jaw practically wired shut.
"You can have it if you want." Jimmy says casually. Too casually. Suspicious.
Pete turns towards him, "What?".
He shrugs, "The spot. I don't need it I have plenty."
Pete sinks back into himself, hugging his knees, "Not sure I'll need it either."
"Not kissing any girls lately?" Jimmy teases.
Pete buries himself further in his arms. He curses under his breath instead of formulating a coherent response.
Jimmy scoots over closer to him and he flinches, "Awww Pete! Don't be like that!"
"Don't." He adjusts himself just enough to make his voice clear, raising his head up from his crossed arms "We can't all be like you." he spits bitterly. He knows it's uncalled for, but he can't help himself.
Pete flinches as Jimmy slaps his back, "You're holding yourself back, chicks would dig a guy like you, you just gotta put yourself out there." Jimmy encourages. What?
"… a guy like me?" Pete asks skeptically, it's hard to tell if he's more controlled by his nerves or his curiousity.
Jimmy lists his traits on his fingers, "smart… sensitive… real damn loyal, you know that?"
Pete stares at him. No. He didn't.
"I'm sure you could have anyone you wanted." Jimmy gives him a devious smile, the mark of a frequent skirt chaser.
Pete scoffs, interest in the conversation lost. He doesn't really get what Jimmy is getting at, but he's clearly lost it. Now that Pete thinks about it… Jimmy did hit his head pretty hard…
Jimmy moves even closer, "No listen, just go up to them like this," he's right next to Pete at this point, placing the arm he's leaning on behind Pete, their faces only inches apart.
Pete freezes, slowly turning his head to see just how insanely close he's gotten. His mouth twitches. It was getting harder to think. Maybe he hit his head pretty hard.
"Now chicks dig gentlemen, but you have to be assertive." He gestures around with his hand while he leans in, like he's telling a secret. Pete nods slowly, head starting to spin just a little bit, "And then seal the deal with some cheesy line! They love that!"
Pete averts his eyes and draws his eyebrows together, "Like what?" He's still unsure where this is going.
It was kind of Jimmy to… coach him, but he didn't really know why this was happening, or expect it to be so… hands on.
Speaking of, Jimmy raises a hand to Pete's chin, who stops breathing at the contact. Please be normal about this. He thinks he starts praying, it's hard to keep track of his racing thoughts.
This is veering into territory he has zero clue how to navigate. He's rendered into a stupid deer in headlights as he feels the warmth rise in his face.
He feels Jim's thumb run across his bottom lip, "I like your lipgloss, is that a new flavor?" Jimmy’s eyes are half lidded and suave.
Pete has to hold back whimpers.
He runs hot with embarrassment and shame. That's stupid! That's a stupid line! He's not even wearing lipgloss! He tries to fight back against the fast fluttering feeling in his gut.
On an almost subconscious level, he can't stop himself from giving a shaky nod.
He can feel Jimmy’s breath mingling with his own, it's intoxicating.
But Jimmy pauses before meeting his lips, "I don't know. Your lip is pretty busted." it's a little more than a whisper, but it breaks the tension with his sudden mocking tone.
Pete shivers before pushing him away, snapping out of whatever trance he was in, Jimmy laughing at him.
He sinks back into hugging his knees tight to his chest, shielding himself from whatever vulnerability he just displayed. Is this what he wanted?
To kiss Jimmy? To an embarrassing extent.
But to be one of his … flings? The thought makes him kind of nauseous, but he can't say he wouldn't take the opportunity.
His head hurts too much for this, "You, Jimmy Hopkins, are the biggest asshole I've ever met." he sulks in all the things he wants and can never have.
Jimmy’s face falls at that, struggling to keep up his playboy persona. "Don't say that…"
Pete refuses to look at him.
Jimmy regains some of the lost distance between them, "C'mon Pete… I don't care about what anyone in this shitshow of a school says… but I don't want you to say that."
Pete keeps up the cold shoulder.
Jimmy grabs his face again, turning Pete's head to face him, and dammit, he's totally putty in his hands.
"I actually care what you think." Jimmy’s voice is shockingly soft, sincere even, "Do you still wanna kiss me? Even if it hurts a bit? I'm sure I taste like blood…"
All of Jimmy's usually swagger is gone, replaced by something earnest illuminated in the moonlight.
"I don't want you…" Pete trails off as he tries to formulate what he wants to say, something strains in Jimmy’s face. Pete locks eyes with him, "I don't want you to bring anyone else here. Can it be…just me?" he's not even sure exactly what he's asking for, but he wants it. Bad.
"Damn, it Pete." Jimmy grins, "I already told you the spot is yours."
Jimmy finally closes the distance, sweeping him up into a sweet kiss. He was right, even the subtle pressure makes his busted lip burn.
The night is chilly and every inch of him aches.
It was totally worth it.