a/n: story is complete and will be updated every friday afternoon/night. my resolution this year is to (try) and finish all my stories -sweatdrop-

disclaimer: this is purely an exercise in ridiculousness and is mostly for my enjoyment. i claim no actual understanding of relationships or how to fix them. actually, if you followed my advice i'd probably ruin yours. read and laugh. do laugh. it loses its point if no one is laughing.



Fuck me?

(5 years earlier…)

Reiner banged the gavel on his makeshift podium.

Until that point, he and his four best friends had been in his basement going about the serious business of being teenage boys; Adrian holed up in a corner thinking or something, Xavi and Shota on the floor appreciating their carefully collected bevy of graphic magazines and Dmitri sprawled on the sofa behind them, dexterously eating chips with one hand and playing God of War II on the television with the other. Reiner himself had been lifting weights to get his arms to look a little less like spaghetti and more like manicotti. It was an endless trial to him that, though he was leader of their group, he was both the shortest and the skinniest.

But now childish games had to be put aside. It was time to deal with the more serious business of eliminating the scourge of all teenage boy problems.

Namely, teenage girls.

More precisely, teenage girls who wouldn't date them.

"Friends, Romans, countrymen! Lend me your ears!" he intoned with a florid sweep of his marginally beefier arm.

"Caesar was last semester Reiner," Dmitri groaned, tossing a potato chip at him. "You were on stage for two minutes when Conner had to run to the bathroom. Get over it already."

Reiner flicked the debris from his shoulder, scowling at the fair-headed sloth. "Friends, Romans, countrymen, and assholes, lend me your ears."

Crickets chirped even if they couldn't hear. Birds trilled even if they couldn't understand. But the human, male adolescents, who incidentally could both hear and understand, ignored him completely.


"Busy!" Xavi and Shota snapped simultaneously, waving Reiner away in annoyance.

"No, you're not, you're looking at porn!"

"You say porn, we say anatomy." Shota shrugged.

"Like epi-tome and epitome," Xavi put in.

"Hey, we rhymed!"

"We're poets and we didn't even know it."

"No," Reiner groused. "You're dumbshits and you don't know it. Epi-tome is not a real word."

Shota and Xavi gave him matching withering looks and fist-bumped each other anyway. Although all five of them were close and had been close since the third grade, Shota and Xavi had been friends by themselves before they had joined Reiner's group, arriving when they did as a package deal of epically perverted proportions. Together, they were a menace to society and breasted individuals everywhere. Well, breasted females. Breasted males, they avoided like a hemorrhoid.

Xavi leaned forward and squinted at the picture he was investigating. "You know, this looks like Dr. Iverson's work."

"That or Schweitzer," Shota agreed, pursing his lips.

"Mmm, yeah, the mammary curve?"

"And definitely, areola circumference…"

Reiner head-desked his podium.

In the corner, Adrian, who had been thinking or something (the something now better defined as filing his nails) looked up, a frown lacing his delicate and prematurely handsome features. They were still fifteen, you see, and thus not due to look anything but awkward for another two years.

"Shut up. Reiner's talking," he drawled.

"Aw, Reiner's boyfriend is standing up for him again!" Dmitri giggled, tossing a chip at Adrian.

"Reiner and Adrian sitting in a tree…" Xavi started, the idea of teasing apparently more interesting than breasts. "Say, what do gay guys do in trees?"

"I dunno, man," Shota said. "Gay kissing?"

"What in the hell is gay kissing?"

Adrian rolled his eyes hard. "It's like straight kissing, but better."

"And how would you know about straight-kissing?" Xavi countered. "You've been gay forever."

"I experimented." Adrian shrugged easily. "On your sister."

"Burn!" Shota shouted, covering his mouth in his glee. "Dude, he said he's been gay kissing your sister!"

"Straight kissing," Adrian clarified.

"Fuck you!" Xavi flared.

"Adrian and Alice sitting in a…"

"You finish that sentence, Shota and I swear to God—"

"Straight kissing! Gay kissing!" Dmitri crowed, throwing more chips into the air.

"Idiots," Adrian snorted.

Reiner had, by this time, had enough. He'd tried asking nicely and they'd ignored him. He'd tried reasoning and they'd been asinine. It really only left him one recourse – dictatorship. It was what Caesar would have wanted him to do. He only hoped that he would not meet the same end.

"Everybody, just shut the fuck up!" he roared, slamming the gavel on the podium so hard it nearly split itself lengthwise.

Instantly, silence hit the room. Dmitri stopped throwing chips. Xavi stopped trying to strangle Shota and Adrian... Actually, Adrian continued filing his nails. Glaring at his now whisper quiet assembly, Reiner started for what he hoped was the last time.

"Guys, we have a major problem. None of us has been able to hold on to a girlfriend for longer than three months. At first, I thought it was because we're all relationship fucktards, which, let's face it, we kind of are. However, I believe that the problem isn't just us. Girls today are getting damaged by terrible relationships with assholes, so by the time we get around to dating them, they have so much baggage that the relationship is doomed before it can even start. So, I propose this. The only way we're ever going to keep a date is to head off this relationship baggage before it happens. It's our duty not only for us, but for all the poor souls who'll be dating these girls after us."

"So, you want us to be kind of like superheroes?" Dmitri wondered, rolling over onto his stomach. It was the closest he was going to get to sitting to attention. Dmitri was allergic to sitting in any and all seating apparatus. He wouldn't even ride a bike.

Reiner snapped his fingers. "Yes, exactly. We're relationship superheroes. I've even got jobs for all you guys." He dug deep into his pockets and pulled out a now very crumpled slip of paper.

"Xavi, you shall henceforth be the Devirginator. Seek out the girls who are on the verge of losing their virginity and have them lose it to you, as opposed to the hopeless loser who'll make her swear off men and sex forever."

"That's what I'm talking about!" Xavi grinned, very pleased. "Hey, what about Le Fucker?"


"El Fucker?"


"How about—"


"Fine, fine."

"Shota," Reiner continued, "you're the Antichrist. Your task is to reach out to all those girls who have savior complexes and re route their brains. Trust me, they're doing no one a favor."

"Why me?" he complained. "And what's with the name?"

"Son of perdition? Man of sin? Only one of us who's ever seen the inside of an actual jail cell?"

"For ten minutes!"

"Ten minutes, ten years, same difference. You've got the lure of the bad boy to reel them in and the stubborn determination to fuck up to frustrate them out. Perfect foil to the savior."

Shota found this answer acceptable and fist bumped with Xavi.

"Adrian, you shall be Gaydar. You find the girls chasing after gay guys and stop them."

"Gaydar," Adrian deadpanned, giving Reiner a flat look. "Seriously?"

"Or…whatever else you'd rather be called," Reiner backtracked, shrugging his shoulders. "The important thing is, gay guys unattached to deluded straight girls are yours for the taking."

Adrian's eyelids flickered and lazy interest seemed to creep into the dark orbs of his pupils. He set the nail file down.

"I'll think about it," he said finally.

Reiner let out the breath he'd been unconsciously holding, and turned his attention to Dmitri. "Dmitri, you are the Mac Daddy. You get the girls with father issues. I know they're some of the worst ones, but I think your particular lazy as fuck personality is just what they need to be cured of their affliction."

"What about you, Reiner?" Dmitri asked, pulling his long, fair hair out of his eyes. "What're you going to be?"

"Me? I get all the rebounds," Reiner replied, a beatific smile spreading across his face. "I shall be Professor Ex."

A murmur of excitement immediately broke out, kicking the tail end of Reiner's last words so hard, it would forever be recorded that he actually called himself 'Professor Sex'. Xavi and Shota fell to very loud deliberations about which one of the many females they knew came under whose domain. It was a messy affair that involved a lot of name-calling and shouting and arguing over whether virginity, like manners, could be deduced from the way a girl ate shrimp. Dmitri was trying pickup lines – bad pickup lines – out loud and Adrian, who usually maintained a casual apathy towards the goings on of his fellow males, was moved to casual interest. He was letting Dmitri practice the lines on him. Or rather, he wasn't shoving Dmitri's face away when he directed the lines at him.

Reiner sighed satisfaction.

The troops had been mobilized, the goal was in sight, and victory, at least for now, seemed to be at hand. Caesar himself could not have been prouder.

So it was, on that beautiful August day, that the League of Incorrigible Gentlemen began.