Hi guys, how’s it going? Long time no update! (who exactly is still watching this story anyway? It died months ago...) I just recently revived my social life and this is like, the first time I’ve been home in a while. Exams went really shithouse so I drowned my sorrows in alcohol (most of it was free, can you believe it? I went crazy) and making moniez.

Anyhow, hope you’ve all been well and I hope you will enjoy the DELETED SCENES! Love you DEAR SUGARNUTPUMPYKNICKERS! Thanks for sticking around!

DETAILS
Chapter Thirty: Deleted Scenes
with good reason too

Sc 1. In which people find out where other people are from:

“I’m from Copenhagen.”

“You’re Danish?” I give Lachlan funny look, “I thought Danish boys were supposed to be sexy…”

“You’re not so hot yourself, Mister Sorensen,” Lachlan snaps back, obviously wounded. Yeah, I’m Danish. Shea asked me once if I was a Denmarkian. It was one of the funniest and dumbest things I had heard in my life.

“I was born in Hong Kong,” Hamish says next.

“Cool, you’re Hongkonese,” says Shea.

See what I mean? He cracks me up.

Sc 2. In which Cass finds out Sunny can sing:

Holy shat. Sunny can sing. Like whoa-damn that’s weird sort of thing. He doesn’t have an exactly powerful voice. Actually, it’s sort of high and weak…like Justin Timberlake’s girly caws.

I’m glad Val did Sunny’s make-up cos he looks pretty decent tonight. Well, he doesn’t look like a chipmunk with remotely human features anymore.

Sc 3. In which some people have some conversation about a stinky girl.

“Are you talking about that girl with hair down to her butt crack?”

“Yeah! Her hair reeks! She literally washes her hair once a month or something…”

“Aww…you guys are so mean…”

“Nah! I’m serious! She smells! And man, when it rains. It stinks like you wouldn’t believe!”

“Maybe she lives on a farm or something.”

“Nah, she lives near me! Like, in Westmead or some shit.”

“There are no farms in Westmead.”

“So? She still smells!”

“I heard that once she tried cutting her hair and her mum chased her around the house with a broomstick.”

“No shit? That’s hilarious!”

“Maybe it’s like…her religion or something…”

Sc 4. In which Cass and Shea have a conversation about fuzzy wuzzies.

“What the fuck are fuzzy wuzzies?” I snort.

“They’re little messages you’re supposed to write to people. Like…a cute, warm, fuzzy wuzzy little message saying nice fuzzy stuff. It’s for graduation. The fuzzy wuzzy envelopes are in the common room,” says Shea.

“Why the hell are they called fuzzy wuzzies? That sounds so…fuzzy…”

“It was Keelin’s idea.”

“Oh. Figures.”

“I actually think it’s sweet. I’m gonna write one for every person in the grade.”

“Awww, you’re such a poof. It’ll be sad if like…you get your fuzzy wuzzy envelope at graduation and it’s empty. I bet mines gonna be empty.”

“I’ll give you one.”

“Duh, you’ll give me one. You’re giving one to every person in the grade!”

“Yeah, well…yours’ll be a bigger fuzzy wuzzy…”

“It had better be fucking big or I’ll brick your car.”

Sc 5. In which Cass makes some drugs in Chemistry.

We grin down at our amazing concoction.

The door slides open and Mr Lawrence walks in. We all freeze. He stops. Sniffs.

“Please tell me that’s not speed,” he says in a pathetically hopeful way that shows full well that he knows that we are indeed, making impure speed.

“Sorry…” we say in sheepish unison.

“It’s a good thing we don’t have the resources to purify that stuff. The science department would be one rich faculty if we did.”

We laugh and I think of ways to smuggle out a bit of this impure speed and poison little juniors. That’ll be a sight to see. Look kids! Rocky sherbet! Here, have a taste.

It’s like that little girl who shared a bag of ecstasy tablets with two of her friends because she thought they were “lollies”. All three kids ended up in intensive care with drug overdose. I think that’s insane.

Sc 6. In which Hamish talks about his accent.

“I moved to Ireland in ninth grade. That’s why my accent’s all fucked.”

Sc 7. In which some stupidity is shown.

Shea’s Catholic only by name. The first time we went to assembly he whispered to me, “Who’s Mary?” and I gave him the longest, hardest, most disbelieving look I have ever managed to give someone. It didn’t help when he asked what Lent was straight after.

Sc 8. In which a racist conversation occurs.

“Shut up, wog,” Hamish sneers exaggeratedly at Nik.

Nik grins back. “You shut up, fob,” he says, poking out his tongue.

“Both of you shut up,” I grumble, trying to memorise my notes.

“Shut up, skip!” they both yell then go into fits of laughter.

“I’m not skip, you racist pigs! I’m freakin’ European. Danish. Hello?”

“Pfft, barely,” Nik says as Hamish dances around me going, “Skip! Skip! Skip!”

Sc 9. In which Cass attends Confession.

Friday. Confession.

I don’t mind confession, really. I confess the same ‘sins’ every term.

I’ve been lazy.

I’ve been an asshole.

I’ve pleasured myself with my hand and never felt guilty.

I cheated on some exam.

“Oh, it’s you Cassidy.” Father Gregory always says after my third confession. See, I’m not even creative enough to think up different sins that Father Gregory recognises me. I actually think he knows everyone by now.

I utter, ‘Bless me Father, for I have sinned’ in a very low and dramatic voice that makes Father Gregory snigger before I walk away.

“Fun?” Shea snorts as I walk past him.

“Yup. Totally purified,” I say.

I watch him go in and wonder if he’s reciting his list of sins.

Sheas sins:

I stepped on an ant this morning.

I was 0.1 seconds late to rugby practice.

I didn’t offer my bag of cookies around during recess.

I didn’t run out and protect the chestnut sapling from the hailstorm in June.

Bless me Father, for I have sinned.

Sc 10. In which Hamish talks about being a gay Asian.

“You go find a nice Chinese girl!” Hamish says pointing and putting on a squeaky imitation of his mother’s voice, “No Korean because they’re too loud! No Japanese because they’re ugly! No Caucasians because all they want is sex! You find a nice Chinese girl and give me plenty of Chinese grandchildren!”

He sighs and sinks his head into his arms. “First off, Ash isn’t even girl. He’s a boy and Sri Lankan and they’re so below my mother’s notice that they’re not even on her stupid list!”

“What’s your dad say?”

“Dad? Pfft, he doesn’t give a flying fuck what I do. As long as I turn out to be some sort of surgeon or lawyer, I can be as gay as a set of Mardi Gras beads screwing a pink boa.”

Sc 11. In which Cass shows his hate for dogs (which is pretty criminal in my opinion).

I hate dogs.

Seriously.

They scare the shit out of me when they find it necessary to smell my crotch.

Sc 12. In which Cass and Shea have some embarrassing living room sex.

“You’re perfect, you know that?”

My face heats up so fast that it starts throbbing.

“Eww…You’re so cheesy. That’s gross,” I say, terribly embarrassed, “It’s giving me creeps.”

Shea gives me a smart peck at the corner of my mouth. I flinch and pout indignantly.

“I know you like it when I say it though,” he says grinning and nuzzling into my neck.

“Shut uuup!” I bleat, trying to pull away from his teddy bear hug. It’s sad cos I can’t even deny it.

“You’re perfect! You’re gorgeous! You’re everything I’d ever want! I love you! I love you! I love you so much!” Shea shrieks happily, squishing me into the sofa.

“EWWW! Stop it!” I scream, flailing about fruitlessly. Damn, he’s heavy.

He kisses me and pins my hands above my head with his own. “Hush dear,” he chides, “Little boys shan’t be so loud whence being mauled.”

Err…wtf.

He gazes at me with a pleased smile and my heart flutters crazily when I realise I want to tell him he’s perfect too. Ah…shit. I’m turning into corny mush.

So I lean up and run my tongue over his smirking lips, earning me a shaky inhale. Shea looks at me quite surprised and I give him my sexy kitty eyes. Which I’m not sure are entirely sexy because it’s sort of embarrassing practicing in front of a mirror.

But it seems my sexiness worked because a moment later, Shea attacks my mouth until I’m gasping for air with bruises lips.

“You’re. So. Hot.” He breathes, kissing each word along my neck, making me shiver and produce some sort of weird keening noise.

“Fucking perfect,” he mumbles and continues to give me hickeys.

“That’s getting sort of old…” I say huskily as he laps at my chin and runs his hands down my sides. Gah, that tickles. Tickles erotically actually. I buck up experimentally and grin when Shea bites his lip, trying to suppress a groan, which he can’t by the way, since I end up hearing it.

“Love you, ugly shit,” he growls.

“Much better,” I coo. I roll my hips around and gasp when a zinging feeling ripples through me and leaves me quite…horny. Dammit, this sucks. My jeans feel sort of tight.

Shea’s panting hard in my ear as I continue to rub slowly against his er…happiness. Why stop now? I push him up until he’s leaning on the couch and I sit on him and grin. He whimpers when I undo his shirt buttons and lean down to slide my tongue over his chest.

“Ah, shit…” he gasps when I run my teeth over his left nipple. Bwahaha. I love being in control.

My hand undoes his zipper and slips under the hem of his briefs. Shea lifts his hips slightly when I shift his pants down a bit and prepare to take him out of his straining briefs.

“Wait,” Shea says suddenly.

I blink at him. “What?” I snap, not entirely happy.

He lifts my face up and kisses me wetly. “Not yet,” he says and sits me on the couch. Before I can get my head around what’s so not yet about everything, Shea tugs my pants off along with my briefs and has my very surprised, very hot and totally erect cock in his hand.

“Whoa –” is all I manage to say before I choke and moan softly when Shea takes the tip of me into his mouth and does a swirlie with his tongue.

I involuntarily twitch and grasp Shea’s hair as he takes more of me in and scrapes his teeth along my length. Feels good. Plenty good. He doesn’t try to swallow any more though and grins instead while he strokes oh so painfully slowly. My legs tense when he licks my cock from base to tip.

“Goddamn…” I growl and try to push his head down.

I hear him chuckle softly and finally takes as much as he can. I whimper as I feel his throat rippling from his gagging around me. Shit, I need this so bad. He holds my bucking thighs down as he swallows, stops, breathes, swallows, stops, breathes. Can he be any slower!?

At long last, he starts to move. And move he does. My hands are grasping his hair out of sheer pleasure rather than forcing him down. The tight heat of his throat and the roughness of his teeth and tongue as he moves up and down, render me into this panting and keening mess.

All I can see is blurry things because my eyes are half lidded and my gasps are super duper amplified for some reason and it feels so. fucking. good when he bobs at a scary speed and sucks in a wonderfully ruthless way.

“God – Shea – Gonna – Haa – Sheaaaa…”

Wow, such fluency.

But he knows what I mean. I throw my head back and squeeze my eyes shut as I feel myself shudder and jolt as white brilliance explodes in me. He slides me out of his mouth just as I shoot my first jet of cum…into his eye.

I continue gasping and trembling before I can think…

Oops.

“Jesus…” he hisses and wipes his eye.

I pant and sort of just…drool against the couch and say nothing. Harhar his eye.

Ugh, so draining.

I sit up and look at him with my um…offerings…all over his face.

Kinky.

I sidle up to him rubbing it off with his sleeve and whisper, “I would lick that off you if it weren’t my own jizz…”

“Damn it,” he mumbles and shudders when I bite his ear lobe.

“Wait here,” I say and get off the couch. He watches me go. I glance around and see him staring at my bare ass and my shirt half draping off my shoulders. I feel like a porn star.

I return a moment later with –

“Ta-dah! Condom and lube!”

I laugh and push Shea’s wide eyed, gaping body back into the couch. I straddle his hips once again and roll around in a little lap dancy way. He just stares hard at my smirking face and shivers at my roaming hands. He stares even harder when I squeeze lube into my fingers and uh…prepare.

My weight shifts as I shuffle around to position myself over him. His hands lay beside him, unmoving. I don’t think he believes this is happening. I tug his pants to his knees. He’s completely hard. I rip a rubber out of its plastic and roll it on him.

“Come on, baby. Fuck me,” I moan-whisper, one hand behind, guiding me to his wonderful thing called an erection.

I take in an inch and suck his tongue out of his gaping mouth to distract the pain. He responds then. Finally. He makes this animalistic grunting sound as I play pro-wrestling with his tongue and his hands come to grab my hips.

“Fuck. Me,” I hiss and wiggle down.

He slides a few more inches in and it buuuuuurns. Then his hips jerk and I basically die.

“Mmmpph!”

He sucks out the cry of pain from my mouth and lets me stay still, gripping his back with my nails and getting used to his fucking baseball bat up my ass.

“Ahhh…shit, shit, shit, shit…” I snarl, breathing rapidly into Shea’s neck.

He strokes my back and legs to get me to relax, but I can’t help but feel that goddamn burning. It burns. Ow, ow, ow, ow.

Breathe. It’s fine. It’s fine.

I move slowly and amazingly, I get used to it. Especially when that incredible spot in me called my prostate gets brushed. Oh yeah, I’m getting used to it, alright.

“Move. Dammit,” I choke, using all the muscles in my legs and butt to keep me going. Don’t make me do all the work!

Shea grip on my hips goes painful as he thrusts up into me with a loud grunt. My whole body jolts upwards. I wrap my arms around his neck and slam back down as he pushes up. He groans something but I don’t hear it because it feels too good to hear and he’s moving my hips for me, pushing them down to match his furious pounding.

I’m straining for release but he pounds continuously into me. My throbbing cock rubs against his stomach as I ride him.

“Sheaaa…” I whine.

“Ah – god – fuck – Cass – Cass – I – Ahhh – Oh shit…”

He starts furiously thrusting into me with short, sharp strokes and I dig my nails into his back. He quivers and jerks against me and he comes violently with a vulgar curse. He pants heavily for a while and I jerk off until I shoot my second load of offerings onto his chest.

This time, he dips his fingers into my mess, licks it and kisses me hard.

I ease myself off him and collapse onto the couch. I’m glowing.

“My butt hurts…” I whinge after I get my breathing in check.

Shea drapes like a wet sheet over the other side of the couch and just breathes loudly.

We lay there in weary silence.

I crawl over to his side and drape like a wet sheet over him draping like a wet sheet on the couch.

“Wanna go buy a Wii?” I mumble with my chin on his shoulder, “I want to play Brawl.”

He rolls over so that we’re chest to chest with me on top and our legs tangled. I brush away the hair stuck on his forehead.

“After we clean up,” he says then pulls me down to rub his nose into my neck. “I love you,” he whispers and draws love hearts onto my back.

I press my face into his collarbone and sigh.

“Yeah…I – Yeah, me too,” is all I manage and I trace sunflowers onto his shoulder.

He pushes me off and together we clean up the room. We take turns using the shower. When I come out smelling like lavender, I see Shea eating a bowl of marshmallows in custard and drinking a Coke.

I sit down next to him and stare absently at the weird late-night German drama he’s watching. Ho hum. I pull off a hangnail.

“Sorry I couldn’t say it…” I mumble then take a swig of his Coke.

He looks at me and sticks a spoonful of marshmallows and custard in my mouth. He gives my marshtardy lips a quick peck, smiles and turns back to gluing his eyes to the television.

I chew and swallow my mouthful of marshtard and wash it down with more Coke. Eww, that marshtard tastes festy! Coke, coke, coke, coke!

“It’s okay,” he says during a tampon commercial whilst I drink away the marshtard taste with Coke.

I don’t believe him, but whatever, if he says it’s okay.

He feeds me another spoonful of marshtard and kisses me again.

Yuuuuuuuck!

Coke!

Sc 13. In which Cass and Shea take the twins to soccer.

“Into the car, kids,” Shea says, ushering Joshua and Judah into the back seat of his car, “Come on, we’re gonna be late to soccer! Josh! Just tie your shoelaces in the car!”

Joshua Hainsworth exchanges harassed looks with his twin and they clamber noisily into the car.

“Put on your seatbelts,” Shea orders. My, what a responsible brother.

“Why is Cassy-ass coming too?” asks Judah. I only know he’s Judah because he’s not tying his shoelaces.

“He’s coming because he’s going to a party which is on the way,” Shea says backing out of the driveway and starting down the road.

“Are you and Cassy-ass like, pretending to be boyfriends and girlfriends or something?” says Josh. He swings his legs.

“Yeah, are you and Cass like, gonna get married or something?” says Judah. He swings his legs.

“Cos that’s just silly,” they say simultaneously and swing their legs.

Shea clears his throat and I cough.

“Boy’s aren’t supposed to like boys like girlfriends,” says Josh in this snooty six year old know-it-all voice.

“Nah-uh,” says Judah in an equally snooty six year old know-it-all voice, “Alice Keller’s dad likes her other dad like a mum. And Jack Marconi from swimming school says the he likes me like a girlfriend. His wiener poked out when I looked at him and he told me to touch it. I told him he was stupid.”

“Hey, you never let me touch your wiener!” Josh cries incredulously, “And you never told me Jack Marconi likes you like a girlfriend! You’re so yuck!”

“I’m not yuck! You’re yuck!” Judah shrieks, pushing Josh, “And I didn’t even touch Jack Marconi’s wiener! It was small and stupid and yuck! You’re dumb! Dumb, dumb, dumb!”

Josh pushes Judah back. “I’m not dumb! You’re dumb! I –,”

“Quiet!” Shea yells and stops at a red light. He turns around and glares at the twins, “Judah, you stay away from Jack Marconi. He’s a pervert. And Josh, don’t you dare call your brother yuck! If he doesn’t want you touching his wiener, then don’t touch it! Are we clear?”

J.J Hainsworther’s nod loudly.

“Good,” Shea says and turns back around to grumpily continue driving.

“I bet you touch Cass’s wiener…” two unhappy voices mumble from the back seat.

“JAY!”

I laugh so hard my throat gets an infection.

A/N

And it all ends in 13 deleted scenes. An unlucky number, thats...lucky?

Short facts about the protagonists that you might like to know:

Cass and Shea lasted for about two years and one month. To all those who thought they’d go on and get married and live a great life until the ripe old age of a ninety-six: you guys are delusional romantics. Sorry to burst your bubble but high school relationships never last.

Cass dumped Shea. Shea had a cry about it. Life goes on.

But since this story is about as realistic as Hobbits and hovering condoms, then you are all free to think that C and S get married and love each other for ever and ever and everrrr!

--

OKAY, SO. I have plans to make a website for Details where I have drawn these picture-things of the characters and have little chara profiles or whatevershit for each. What do you guys think? Waste of time or genius plan?

Also, about a sequel or companion piece for Details, sorry but no, I’m not up to it at the moment. Sorry, sorry, sorry! I’d love to, but really, I’m drained of ideas and I don’t think it would be that successful.

I also have plans for a new story. Keep an eye out for it! There will be mathematics, literary criticism, and devils in it. Oh and maybe a dose of Asian stereotypes/jokes/poke-funnerage. (Hi Asians, you’re great :D)

Once again, thank you all for the support and sticking with this story for so long! It’s not the greatest story in the world and I would’ve preferred to have created something more…um…substantial, but it was fun nevertheless :) The best part was reading everyone’s reviews and getting all hee-hee ha-ha over the greatness that they were.

PM me if you’d like a chat about...stuff! (I feel like I’m advertising myself or something).

Signing off from the last Author’s Note for Details,

CButt (with love) :)