Good Boy For Him

Diagnosis

Dawson isn't a big fan of the new kid. New kid may be an old name, seeing as he's been at their school for over a month by now. But still, Dawson doesn't like him.

Dawson prefers to throw waded up pieces of paper at the back of the annoying girls' heads and throw pencils at the jocks. But the nerd... The nerd at the front of most of their classes makes him want to get more risky.

Ever since Wesley insulted Bowie by telling him he was dumb or whatever, Dawson has kept to giving Wesley dirty looks in the hallways or in the lunch room. Wesley's noticed, of course, but he never says anything back. And even though Dawson would take pleasure in beating the shit out of Wesley, his mind often wanders to how much pleasure he would feel from also bending Wesley over and making him scream with just one thrust.

Dawson and Bowie meet up in their first class, rhythmically tapping their pencils on their desks to piss off the teacher. Dawson takes pride in how Wesley's shoulders tense in front of him. He smirks, tapping his pencil harder on the wood. Wesley leans back in his chair, his focus on his assignment completely gone.

Bowie notices, hesitating in his tapping as he stares at Wesley. He drops his pencil on his desk and says to Dawson. "I gotta go do shit. I'll see you later."

"See ya." Dawson murmurs, watching Bowie stand with his stuff and leave the classroom.

Dawson dozes off, leaning back in his chair in the library. His eyes are closed and just as snores are about to come out of his mouth, someone shakes his shoulder harshly. Dawson's eyes shoot open, fumbling to stay in the chair.

"What?" Dawson exclaims, looking up at Bowie.

"I did it!" Bowie smiles widely, planting himself down in the seat beside Dawson.

"Did what?"

"I talked to the principal about what Wesley said-"

"Did you get him expelled?" Dawson chuckles, rolling his eyes at the thought of the nerd.

"No. I uh, I've been thinking about what he said last week. I also talked to my dad about it, too." Bowie's words slow down, as if he's worried to say any of this out loud.

"The ADHD thing?" Dawson sits up, listening closer out of curiosity.

"Yeah, my dad said that my mom had ADHD, too. He's thought that maybe I had it... And I told him what Wesley said. That maybe the reason for me not focusing isn't because I don't want to, well partly, but it's also that I can't." He pauses, and looks away from Dawson. "He called the principal and set up a meeting for me to get tested..."

Dawson hesitates, noting Bowie's uncomfortableness. "And? What's up?"

"I took the test a few hours ago. The woman helping me with it said that it's almost a definite yes that I have it." He makes a small grin. "Wesley was right. And I'm going to be moved into a class that'll give me more help with stuff. Like they'll teach things different ways, like a ton of times, and they won't just ignore me like Ms. Terry did our freshman year."

"Yeah, we did shit on the first day and she just decided that we didn't deserve to be treated like students. That was the last time we actually tried in class." He pauses, stopping his reminiscing. "So are you sure you have it? And I thought that wasn't like an uncommon thing to have, why are they giving you so much special treatment?"

Bowie shrugs and mumbles, "All I know is that when I was done testing, the lady looked like really concerned." He laughs, trying not to think too hard on the woman's reaction. "At least I'm not distetic or something!"

"You mean dyslexic?"

"She said I might have that, too." Bowie shrugs, not seeming to understand anything he's saying. It makes Dawson smile slightly, huffing out a laugh.

"But she also probably thinks it's best to seclude me from the other students so they won't like get distracted by me for the rest of the year. Kinda fucked up, but I don't know man. I do want to graduate, I do. And if this'll get me through it, then I should probably do it. My dad said he'll stop paying for my new piercings if I don't pass high school."

Dawson nods. Yeah, Dawson thinks as he looks at Bowie, He has a lot of piercings, and at least four more on his list to get.

"Bowie," Dawson says, leaning back in his chair. "Are you um, happy with being diagnosed?"

Bowie thinks for a second, before nodding. "I think this'll be for the best. Like, the principal and that lady showed me some stuff that they could do to help me in class. And the principal called Wesley in at the end of the meeting. And he said he would start tutoring me again, too! I just..." He cuts himself off with a big smile. "I feel like I'm not completely useless for once. Maybe I won't get held back again."

"That's great!" Dawson smiles, making sure no one but Bowie sees the grin. "That's really cool, dude. I'm happy for you."

"Thanks, man. I wouldn't have even made it to high school without you, so thanks."

Wesley feels as if he should be used to this at this point.

He get yanked into the bathroom by a firm grip on his bicep. He almost trips over his long legs but catches himself against the chest of Dawson Wood.

"Dawson." Wesley greets lowly, trying to ignore how his thoughts immediately go to Dawson's pink pouty lips.

Dawson's glare is less menacing than usual, Wesley notices. "You helped Bowie." Dawson grumbles, his hold on Wesley's shirt collar loosening slightly. "Thanks."

"This is you thanking me?" Wesley asks with a wide smirk, his eyes full of amusement. "Wow, who knew you were such a nice boy!"

Dawson glares, shoving Wesley harder against the wall. He growls out, "Watch it!"

"Oh, I'll watch whatever I want." Wesley murmurs back, lifting his hands up quickly to tangle in the bottom of Dawson's shirt. He tugs on the cloth, yanking Dawson even closer.

Dawson gulps with wide eyes, looking up at Wesley's much closer face. "Uh, w-what?"

Wesley breathes out a warm laugh, "Don't worry about it." He licks his lips, trying his best to keep at least a bit of self control in order to not bend Dawson over right there. He shoves Dawson off easily and steps toward the door. He turns back and says, "You're welcome, by the way."

Dawson is still at a loss for words as he watches Wesley leave the bathroom. He stands there with an open mouth for minutes after Wesley left.

Even hours later, Wesley can still spot the lingering eyes and the blush on Dawson's cheeks in the hallway or even in class.