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leo fucking hates football. it’s never made sense to him – a bunch of broad-shouldered man-babies grunting ooga-booga bullshit at each other until one of them literally dies, and then everyone goes home. leo would take a gallon of bleach over any sport any day. or art club. art club works just fine.
when he was 7 years old, his mother (god bless her) took him to a football game to get him in touch with his “american roots”. he remembered sitting through it all with fake enthusiasm plastered onto his cheeks, making faces at the gap-toothed girl next to him whenever his mom looked away.
said girl is still next to him ten years later, now holding two tickets to their annual game. piper mclean, football fan supreme, and ironically also leo’s best friend. freshman year of high school, she’d managed to convince him to go to one game with her every year. he, having been severely sleep-deprived at the time, had given into her without so much as a breath of protest. (until the actual game rolled around, of course).
this year, however, leo is determined to attend not one, but zero football games, no matter the company or the bribe.
“dude, just think about it, i’ll buy you however many slices of pizza you want and you know how overpriced the food is at these things.”
okay, so maybe leo can be bought. sue him.
–
three minutes into his first slice of pizza and leo is already 100% done. he usually manages to force himself to stay for their games, but piper’s run down to see her “boyfriend” (who she insists is ‘just a friend’, but nobody with any self-respect would believe that) and now leo’s alone on the bleachers, cold and uncomfortable with his too-expensive, too-chewy pizza. he groans and stomps his foot, the resulting clang getting the attention of two freshman girls with “Grace 08” scrawled across their faces. leo raises an eyebrow at them and happily watches them flush and turn away.
“stop harassing the children, asshole.”
he turns almost as quickly as the girls to see piper behind him, holding two more slices of cold, chewy pizza. rolling his eyes, he grabs a slice and promptly stuffs half of it into his mouth. “about time, you jerk. first you lure me here and then you run away with prince-fucking-charming. where are your manners? this is no way to treat your-”
“get your head outta your ass, leo, i didn’t lure you here and he’s not my boyfriend. he’s not even interested.”
he blinks and opens his mouth to apologize, but piper’s not finished.
“how ever, ” she grins, “he is single.”
leo laughs, shaking his head. “yeah, and? i’m not interested either, dipshit.”
two minutes later and he wishes he could take it back because “prince-fucking-charming” pulls his helmet off to run his hands through a mess of curls somewhere between pure gold and sunshine and “damn, wish that was mine”
“told you.”
leo jumps at the sound of piper’s voice in his ear. “a little warning next time, maybe?” he hisses, pulling his hood over his face. she just smirks and pats his shoulder knowingly. “so? still ‘not interested either, dipshit’?”
leo scowls and turns back to the game. “shuddup i bet he sucks, and i want more pizza.”
–
“and you’re sure you still hate football.”
leo lets out a long-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “yes, piper. a nice jawline is not going to make me like the damned thing.”
piper frowns, refusing to admit defeat. “okay, but you’re sure. ”
he rolls his eyes. “y-”
“no, piper.” a new voice rings out from behind leo, startling him out of his chair. piper brightens.
“jason!”
leo stares at ‘jason’, questioning whether or not he should kick him for scaring the shit out of his poor, tired self, or kick piper for distracting him enough to let him get the shit scared out of him. “you have a name?”
jason laughs, an annoyingly slow and disgustingly jock-ish chuckle that makes leo simultaneously want to break the guy’s leg and sharpie “Grace 08” over his own face. “i hope so, unless you know some other jason?”
leo shakes his head slowly, still registering. “up until three seconds ago, i knew zero jasons.”
“well then, as your first jason, i pledge to make you love football.”
piper rolls her eyes, muttering good fuckin’ luck under her breath, earning herself a smack from leo. “i’ve already tried, bud. you’re not gonna get very far with this one,” she grumbles.
jason looks at leo and smiles. “watch me.”
–
“he’s not even that dreamy, paige. he’s just some blonde dude.”
“leo, we all know you like him too.”
“ i don’t.”
“dude there are at least nineteen drawings of him in your sketchbook and they’re very detailed-”
“ carla stop looking through my fucking sketchbook.”
–
“curls!”
the sudden shout makes leo jump and smash his head on his locker door. eyes watering, he glares in the general direction he’s heard jason’s voice come from, shouting “fuck off, blondie!”
‘blondie’ comes to a stop right in front of leo, slightly out of breath, his own curls blown out of his face by whatever the weather is outside. “aw, baby, no.” leo stares at him, and jason stares back, realizing what he’s said. after too many seconds, he finally clears his throat and pushes his glasses further up on his nose. “anyway, we have a game tonight. you coming? piper said she got you two tickets.”
leo scoffs, fighting the heat in his face and willing his brain to stay in his skull. “in your fucking dreams , grace.” somehow, he manages to make a mental note to teach piper the meaning of the word annual.
jason perks up, reminding leo of a golden retriever. “so that’s a yes?”
leo pauses for a moment, his brain still trying to slink past his ears. “that’s a… mhm. yeah, okay? or something? wait, repeat the question, sorry.”
jason looks at him quizzically, head cocked ( like a golden retriever.) “i.. are you going to the game tonight?”
“RIGHT THE GAME YES yes i’m pretty sure piper said she’d give me a quarter if i went, yeah.”
“ oh, great! i mean. yes. football. wait, a quarter?”
–
so yeah, leo ends up at that night’s game.
he still isn’t quite sure how because he’s yet to receive the aforementioned quarter, but there’s pizza (again) and a promise to leave him alone (which piper assures him doesn’t count because jason had pledged and leo still hates football).
“i’m holding him to it, piper. i deserve peace, you two hooligans go find someone else to hooligan-ate.”
“aw, leo, no.” which brings leo back to his locker that morning, effectively shutting him up for the rest of the game.
after too much screaming and waiting for prince charming to come out, he’s resorted to annoying the fuck out of his poor best friend. they’re about to leave the stadium when he feels jason come up behind him, out of breath. “so?”
he glances back over his shoulder and sticks his tongue out at him, avoiding looking at his face. “ finally, his highness arrives. anyway, so, what?”
“so d’you still hate football?”
leo smirks and looks back at his phone. “it’s gonna take a lot more than one game and some pizza, grace.”
“really now? guess you’re stuck with me, then, till you loosen up.”
he sniffs, straightening. “i think you just called me uptight. did you call me uptight? i am not uptight.”
he is not uptight.
jason smirks at him, which pisses leo off because a) he’s copying him and b) he’s not supposed to be gay panicking about it.
“if you’re so un-uptight-”
leo sighs and rolls his eyes, delighting in the resulting blush that dusts jason’s cheeks. “shut up, i don’t know the word, asshole. just. come to the rest of this year’s games. if you’re so un-uptight, come to the rest of this year’s games.”
it’s ridiculous, really, how often leo’s finding himself staring at jason. in disbelief or in homosexuality, but it happens too often for his liking.
“i don’t know what your strategy here is, grace, but you’re just making me hate football more.”
“nah, don’t worry about it.”
jason is definitely not supposed to use his own toxic traits against him, fuck.
–
“he called me uptight!”
“well, he wasn’t wrong.”
“ carla you bitch.”
–
leo is in a state of despair and gay panic. again. over jason. "piper, i swear he’s doing it on purpose. he’s appealing to mental illness."
piper sighs on the other end of the call. "leo that's literally insane."
"how else can you explain me actually liking football? this is Stockholm Syndrome."
"you’re fucking ridiculous."
leo groans and stomps his foot, sans freshman grace fangirls. "listen, all I'm saying is ‘you don't need to be afraid to try new things with me' sounds like something a kidnapper would say."
"i’m..hanging up."
"piper-"
the line goes dead and leo is just about ready to fume himself into actually exploding, alone and cold and gay on the bleachers.
–
leo expects jason to leave him alone, as promised.
jason does not leave him alone, also as promised.
three weeks and three games (all of which leo attends, oddly enough) later, and leo is finally starting to figure out their routine.
“curls!”
“i’m serious, grace.”
“okay, fine. leo. are-”
“yes, i know you have a game, yes, i’m going, yes, you’re buying me pizza, no, piper can’t make it.”
jason stops right in front of leo, looking mildly hurt. “damn, okay.”
okay, so maybe he’s memorized their ‘little routine’.
leo turns back to his locker to stuff more books into his bag, and definitely not to hide his face. “anything else, princess?”
he feels jason stiffen a bit next to him, then watches him make eye contact with leo’s right temple. “ha, yeah, kind of.”
and silence.
“well? i have class, grace.”
“right, sorry. i was. right. i was wondering if you wanted to get hot chocolate after tonight’s game? it’s.. it’s like, cold out now, right? and, well, hot chocolate is.. is hot and i really just-”
“jesus fucking christ grace, just get down on one knee already.”
leo chokes on his drink at piper’s appearance, glaring at her with watering eyes. she seems to see this is an invitation to unceremoniously beat the shit out of his back, inefficiently helping him regain his breath. “what?”
for some reason, he wants to strangle her. “what’d you mean what? you almost killed me, and jason’s literally dying.”
which is true, as he’s achieved a shade of red that is most likely very unhealthy. “‘m not,” he mumbles, the roots of his hair quickly reaching pink.
“you. you literally are, do you want water? holy shit. i’ll go get hot chocolate with you, just don’t fucking die, grace.”
by the time jason’s come back from the near-dead, piper is gone and both boys are late to class.
–
“HE DID WHAT”
“it’s just hot chocolate paige. have a fucking snickers or something.”
“leo. oh, leo.”
“aww, paige look, our little art nerd is growing up!”
“fuck both of you.”
–
the coffee shop was closed. jason, observant creature that he is, pointed this out when he saw the large neon “CLOSED” sign on the shop’s window. leo had already figured as much, seeing as there’d been absolutely no one in line to get coffee or hot cocoa, which was weird in the middle of november.
they’re walking now, to god knows where.
“so.. what do we do now?”
jason thinks for a moment, looking for a satisfactory dust bunny in his brain to settle on. “i mean, my dad has a truck-”
dust bunny. “of course your dad has a truck. of course he has a fucking truck.”
“you can drive it, if you want? there’s a park near here that i like. we could just hang out.”
leo’s entire face brightens a worrying amount and he grins. “oh my god i love your dad and i am so gonna crash into a trash can or some random kid, let’s do it.”
–
the walk to jason’s house is awkward, to say the least. it’s silent, except for the occasional crunching of leaves whenever they round a corner. jason looks constipated, and leo’s afraid he’s not much better off. he wants to hold jason’s hand, see what it’s like, but they might end up at a port-a-potty and that’s not very date-like. or maybe it’s not a date, and leo’s overthinking it.
one thing he does not overthink is driving daddy grace’s truck. he unfortunately does not crash into any trash cans. or any pedestrians, much to jason’s relief. he does, however, chip the edge of a “totally ancient” stone wall, and then proceeds to put a band-aid over the truck’s left headlight because “i stuck my finger back onto my hand with a band-aid once when i was five, and look how i turned out.” (which worries jason more, and for good reason.)
“you’re… actually a disaster.”
leo grins proudly, hands on his hips. “disastrous-est bitch around. i’m terrible company, dunno what was going on in your brain when you asked me out.”
jason tugs him along by his elbow, trying to maneuver him around dead bushes and branches that are only a threat to someone like leo. “yeah, me neither. um, we can just walk up here and there’s a little patch there, between the trees? yeah, it’s pretty nice and-”
“holy shit.”
jason trips at leo’s abrupt stop, glaring at him from his newfound place on the ground. “ what ?”
“oh my god, jason grace, you sneaky hoe.”
said ‘sneaky hoe’ isn’t making eye contact with leo, further proving his theory.
“you knew the coffee shop was closed.”
–
leo can’t even find it in himself to be upset. sure, he’d gotten his hopes up for hot chocolate only to have them violently and cruelly torn down, which is a shitty thing to do to a guy, but he at least he gets to have a back-of-the-truck date with jason. which, a week ago, wouldn’t have mattered, but he likes curly hair and people named jason. sue him.
“we can go tomorrow, right?”
“what, for hot chocolate?”
jason smiles. “yeah. i mean, since i ‘violently and cruelly’ tore down your ‘high hopes’.”
“you suck, i feel like you being able to read minds is kind of important and you definitely shoulda told me,” he huffs.
jason looks constipated again, but in a good way. “you think out loud, apparently. and anyway, if i could read minds, i don’t think i’d want to read yours.”
leo gasps indignantly. “i’ll have you know my thoughts are priceless and-”
“ way overdramatic, maybe? i didn’t violently tear down shit, sweetheart.”
“oh my god shut up .”
“make me.”
their faces are very close together leo wants to jump out of the truck and scream. “you didn’t.”
oh god, he’s so gay.
jason shrugs, grinning. “sorry?”
without thinking, he taps his lips and says, “no, apologize right.”
jason leans in, and it's the best apology leo's ever felt.
–
the slush is seeping through jason’s jacket, and leo feels kind of bad but then he remembers it’s technically his jacket now. he lets his head fall onto jason’s arm and sighs.
“so.. are we..”
“dating?”
“mhm.”
leo is quiet for a minute. “i don't know.”
“oh.”
“okay.”
“...okay.”
the silence seeps into leo’s pores until he can’t handle it anymore and he finally blurts out, “i mean we don’t have to be all soft and shit now we should still harass each other like-”
jason’s whole body relaxes and he sighs in relief, letting his chin fall onto leo’s head. “oh thank god because i was losing my shit trying to figure out how to do this.”
leo snorts and bonks their foreheads together. “oh, you win, by the way.”
jason looks down at him and smiles. “yeah? and that means…”
“means i’m going to the rest of your games, bitchboy.”
–
jason’s driving him home when he remembers.
“jace?”
“mmh?”
“i’m not uptight.”
jason nearly crashes into the nearest telephone pole.