Oh, how fun! My first fic that's original and yaoi and posted for the whole world to see. Well, the parts of the world with internet access, anyway.

Claimer: I own these people! *dances*

Rating: PG-13 to R (depends on if I'm in a pissy mood or not).

Warnings: Well, it's yaoi meaning gay guys getting it on. Not in this chappy, though! There will also be swearing and violence. And to point out, I'm a straight fangirl who probably hasn't got a clue about what I'm talking about. Also, if you *really* need to know this, the one guy will be 17 and the other 23. Only six years, so no biggy.

Rambling: Please don't flame. *Please* don't. I don't need people telling me this sucks and stuff like that. Constructive criticism is welcomed however. Like the type along the lines of "I like the whole plot and all, but your grammar could use a bit of work." I *don't* want to see "You're sick," or stuff like that. There, I asked nicely. If you don't like the content, then don't read it, please. Thank you.

Rambling II: This will switch between the thoughts of the two main characters. This, ***, will mark that change, and this, *, will mark a scene change. *~* marks a flashback, and /…/ are thoughts.


*~*Love, Big Deal*~*


Drake Prescott was a lonely senior at West Point High. He got attention, but only from the "tough guys" at the school who loved to use him as a moving target/punching-bag and the girls (and some guys) who wanted to get into his pants. He brushed them all off, however; he just didn't understand the big deal about the whole "love" thing. He saw what it did to his mother. She was constantly bringing guys home for what was to her the beginnings of a serious relationship, but for them was only a one night stand. And Drake was left to pick up the pieces. Yes, he saw what it did to her and he wanted no part in it.

That was before sixth period on the ninth of March.


"How's my sweet little gay friend?" an overly-exuberant girl whispered into the ear of one Drake Prescott.

"Amy!" Drake proclaimed, shooting straight up from the position he had been in (which was sitting by the window, arms on desk, head in arms) and knocking his glasses (that had been next to him on the desk) to the floor.

"Oh, chill," Amy said, picking up Drake's glasses and placing them on said boy's face. "I didn't even say it loud and no one's here yet." She gestured around the empty band room.

The band room was on the upper-most floor of the school; the fourth floor. It had a large window on the west side, with a few desks around the window. Then there were benches and music stands arranged in the center of the room. A box and podium for the conductor was at the front of the class.

"I'm not surprised," Drake said glumly. He sighed and looked out the window again. He did *not* want to spend another hour at the school. The day had started off normally; he had gotten pushed in his locker, his glasses were tossed about the math room, a few girls and one female teacher hit on him, his P.E. teacher slapped him on the ass only once, etc. But right before the class he had blindly run into the most beautiful creature he had ever set his near-sighted eyes on.


Drake thanked God for being the fastest runner on the track team. Frederick Daniels and his cronies had decided to play a game of soccer with Drake as the ball. Not really wanting to get kicked around, Drake ran for the band room as fast as he could. Those jocks never bothered to go up there, so he would be safe. He was just rounding a corner when he crashed into the arms of a warm, solid figure in the hall.

"You okay?" the figure asked in a silky baritone. Drake could feel himself start to blush, so he jerked away and looked at the victim of his flee. His breath caught in his throat and he was unable to answer the question.

The guy had raven hair that was brushed back to reveal a perfectly sculpted face and a pair of the deepest dark brown eyes that Drake couldn't remember seeing anywhere before. He was wearing a maroon button-up T-shirt that was unbuttoned and had a black undershirt beneath it. He also wore a pair of tight, dark blue jeans. In his left ear was a silver, fang-shaped earring and an ebony cuff.

"Hello?" the guy asked, waving a hand in front of Drake's face.

"Uh…" Drake cursed his inability to speak and the fact that he turned a darker red. /He's too old to be a student…/ Drake thought, licking his drying lips. /But is he a teacher? He looks kind of young./ "I'm fine!" he squeaked out, brushing past the man and hurrying into the band room where he dumped his carcass into the chair closest to the window. He made a mental note to avoid the man from now on.


"Why are you so down?" Amy asked, sitting next to Drake as a couple of flutists entered the room.

"No reason," Drake lied. "I just hope that new instructor gets here today; the subs are terrible."

"Tell me about it!" his best friend cried, throwing her hands into the air. "We have a competition in a couple of weeks and we don't know *any* of the music! How are a bunch of tone-deaf old geezers supposed to show us the right notes and stuff?"

Drake shrugged. "I bet the new guy's gonna be old, nasty, perverted, and bald," he stated.

"Probably," Amy sighed. She slouched in her seat. "I miss Mr. Robin."

"Don't we all," said a voice behind her. Amy whipped around to see who it was and Drake sighed; it was Craig, the biggest jerk in the county.

"I thought you quit?" Amy asked coldly.

"I did," Craig said. "But I re-joined. I quit because I couldn't bear to see those old bastards trying to teach." He knocked Amy's things off the desk. "Ever since Mr. Robin moved, we've all gotten worse."

"Jerk!" Amy snapped, bending over to get her things. Craig took the opportunity to snap her bra-strap, making it unhook. "You asshole!"

"Craig, beat it," Drake said, glaring at the rude teen. He slipped his hands into Amy's shirt and hooked the bra for her. He was gay; she knew so it didn't bother her.

"Ooo!" Craig exclaimed, jumping back a step. "Are we sticking up for our girlfriend?"

"Something like that," sneered Amy. Craig just laughed and went away to find some other kid to bug the hell out of.

Five minutes later, the place was packed with restless, amateur musicians. The instructor had yet to show up.

/Oh, what the hell?/ Drake thought bitterly, glaring at the door and then at the clock. /I bet he doesn't show; He's probably too old and forgot to wake up from his nap or something./ He tapped his violin bow on his knee.

Just then, the door opened and a man walked in. Drake froze and he just stared at him.

"Hey kids," the man said. "Sorry about the lateness. I'm James Kozeraki and I'll be your new instructor. Please just all me Mr. K." (1)

/It's *him*!/ Drake felt his blush returning, for his new band instructor was the mysterious hallway obstacle. No avoiding him, now…


James Kozeraki walked into the cluttered room and introduced himself. He was late because he had forgotten his notes and was going back to the office to get them when the cutest kid ran into him in the hall. The kid had glasses, blue-violet eyes that you could lose yourself in, and the softest-looking reddish-brown hair on earth. And the kid currently sat not five feet from him.

"So," James began, rubbing his hands together. "Judging by the looks on your faces, I take it you were all expecting someone less…attractive than me to be the new guy?" He got a few mumbled agreements and slow nods. "Well, I can't really blame you. It's not every day that a piece of eye-candy fresh out of college says they're gonna teach you for the rest of the year!" That got the kids to relax and laugh. "There we go!"

He noticed the hallway kid was looking down at his violin and not making a sound. /I'll fix that, too./ "Hey kid," he said.

The kid looked up with a mix of fear and utter shock painted on his face. "Yes?"

"What's your name?" James leaned on the podium at the front of the class.

"D-Drake Prescott," mumbled the kid.

"Drake Prescott?" James' eyes widened. /I never would've thought…/ "Wow, I didn't expect *you* to be Drake Prescott! Mr. Robin left wonderful notes on you. Why don't you play something for us?"

The shock vanished from Drake's face and fear completely washed over his Adonis-like features. "I-I-I'm not very good-"

"Nonsense!" James interrupted. "I've known Mr. Robin for awhile now, and I know he doesn't lie; especially about his students." He smiled warmly at the teen. "Now, come on. Just one song. Please?"

"Okay," Drake sighed, putting his violin up to chin. He laid the bow across the strings and played a sweet, slow melody that left the class speechless. When he stopped, James had to remind himself to breath.

"That was…really good…" he said, in a voice barely above a whisper.

Drake blushed and said in a soft tenor, "Thank you."




(1): Kozeraki is my doctor's last name. I'm not sure if the spelling's correct, though.

Soooooo…how was it? Did you like? Hate? Please let me know; I dream up all sorts of stuff for this thing in school when I'm supposed to be graphing parabolas (*groan* I *hate* math!). Well, review if you wish; it would be greatly appreciated. ^.^