Just a slight change from what I first posted, as suggested by Dazed Dreamer. Thank you everyone for the support and advice and expect chapter 2 up soon!

--

He had always imagined his first kiss.

In his mind, he had catalogued his series of firsts, at least, the ones he could remember. There was his first hair cut, when he was three, and he remember shaking in fear, terrified that the hair dresser would slip and cut off his head with her seemingly too sharp scissors. And there was his first day of kindergarten, he remembered he was up early that morning, setting out his outfit as best a five year old can (there were a few mismatches). By the time he had finished his cereal, it was five o'clock. He was ready for school a whopping three hours too early. Needless to say, Peter's mother wasnt too pleased to be woken up at what she called an "ungodly hour."

That same day was supposed to bring another first for Peter, a first friend. But that first never came. Undiscouraged, Peter told himself that the other children were shy themselves, and eventually would warm up to him eventually. All he ever received were taunts, and cruel jokes. He never understood what he had done, perhaps he had rubbed them the wrong way, maybe he wore the wrong clothes, or maybe he was just that one unlucky child that every class has. Was he the one who, as he had said was too cool to be a dork, but too dorky to be anything else? He would never know.

There was another first that was burned clearly into his head.

The first day he had come to Bullworth.

For Peter, Bullworth was more than a new school, it symbolised a fresh start. It was here that he could change his persona of social outcast, all he had to do was take that first step, because to Peter, Bullworth was brimming with new opportunities.

He picked up his room key from the Welcome Center, and gave a grateful smile to the uninterested secretary, who in return just waved him away. Behind him he heard the line give a slow and lazy shuffle. Peter hoped that his roommate had already arrived, and was already at their room. He remembered the secretary mention his name faintly although he couldn't quite remember. Was it Larry? Eh, it didn't matter, soon enough he would meet him. He could already imagine what great friends they would be. Finally, he would always have a lab partner, he would never feel left out again. If he felt down, he would have someone to talk to. Peter could feel an uncontrollable excitement rise in his chest. No matter what, he would make sure his roommate liked him. Going to Bullworth was going to be the greatest.

He finally turned onto the Boy's Dormitory. He took a deep breath and walked up the stairs to the doors and opened them.

102, he thought to himself, I'm in 102.

He looked at the numbers on the doors and noticed that they were increasing to the right. He made a sharp left turn and began searching.

Ah, there it is. Third door on the left.

Peter stood there for a while. Turning this door knob was going to change everything for him. He wasn't going to be a loner anymore. He was finally going to have friends!

He took another breath, his deepest one of the night, and turned the knob.

He looked in and saw two beds on opposite sides of the room. The room itself was slightly ratty, there was chipped paint and peeling wallpaper everywhere and the floor was looking particularly creaky. He turned his attention to the boy who was lying on the farthest bed, facing the wall.

"Hi, I'm Peter Kowalski, your new roommate."

He had said it with as much confidence as he possibly could.

He watched the boy roll over painstakingly slowly, and noticed a rather nasty, thin, fleshy scar over the boy's right eye. Peter stood uncomfortably, he was aware he was being scrutinised by the other boy. Up and down, up and down went the other boy's eyes. He opened his mouth slowly.

"Are you sure you're a boy?"

It was like a stake through the heart.

"Wh-what do you mean?!" sputtered Peter, rather indignantly, and in a high pitched voice.

"Well," the other boy drawled, "you're small, very small."

"There are a lot of small boys!"

"It's not just that though," the other boy added slowly, "when you walked in, I detected the faintest scent of strawberry. And you're wearing pink."

At this, Peter blushed. He had been in such a rush this morning; he had accidentally used his mother's shampoo.

The boy stood suddenly.

"So," he continued, "I was just doing the gentlemanly thing, and trying to point you in the right direction. Although, if you are hell bent on insisting you're a boy, I won't stop you. I'll turn when you change."

He looked down, "Although, there isn't much there."

At this, Peter's face was aflame.

"And..." he whispered in his ear, "you aren't very convincing."

Peter was sure was going to die.

"By the way, I'm Gary Smith...what did you say your name was again?"

"Peter Kowalski."

Gary's upper lip curled into a sneer.

"No, no, no." He said, shaking his head slowly, "That just won't do."

He surveyed Peter slowly.

"How about," Gary paused slightly, "Femme-boy?"

Peter's dream of a new start crashed around him.

He only hoped to get crushed in the rubble.

--

"Sorry!"

"Ow!"

"Sorry about that Petey!" Gary snickered.

He was crouched behind the beat up couch in the common room, right behind Petey, poking him and shoving him in the hopes to get a rise out of him.

"Stop Gary! I'm trying to watch this!"

Mission accomplished.

Gary straightened himself out, hearing cracks and feeling pains in his knees. Femme-boy has held out longer than he had expected. He slowly sauntered around until he was standing next to Petey.

"Ahhh, swim team!" Gary exclaimed, "intellectual stuff."

He walked until he was in front of the T.V., sure he was blocking Petey's view. He watched Femme-boy shift around until to try and see the screen.

"So tell me Petey," Gary asked, "do you like watching the girls in their swimming costumes?"

His dark eyes watched Petey intently.

"Does that fuel your filthy little fantasies?"

"G-ga-gary! Just get out of the way!"

Gary leaned in mockingly, "Oh Marion! Show me your breaststroke again!"

Petey finally gave up on trying watching the show. He was now leaned back into the couch watching Gary's antics with a look of extreme annoyance on his face.

Gary leaned in even closer, placing his hands on his knees.

"Or wait?" he sneered, "do you like the boys on the team?"

"Yeah right Gary!"

"Which is it Petey?!" he said tauntingly.

"I see you guys are getting along, as usual." Jimmy said as he walked in.

"I'm just, toughening him up." Gary said and gave Petey a hard punch on the arm.

"Ow!" Petey exclaimed; he began rubbing his arm tenderly.

"Turning him into a man, or a woman, or something ..." Gary said sarcastically.

Pete, glad for the distraction, turned his attention back to the television screen, but found he couldn't focus on watching the programme. He let out a small sigh and let his eyes wander the room as he let his consciousness slide. Before he realized it, he was day dreaming.

--

"So Gary, have you made any friends at Bullworth yet?"

Gary turned over from his position on his bed. He looked at Peter sharply.

"Listen here Femme Boy, if there is ever one thing you learn from me and this shithole these sadists like to call a school, it's this one thing. Don't trust anyone. That means no friends."

"Gary, I have already asked you to stop calling me that."

"Fine, Petey."

"And besides," said Peter softly, "if you don't make friends, what does that make us?"

"Roomates."

--

Pete logged back into reality. He was hearing snatches of the conversation going on behind him, though he wasn't actually registering what was happening. He slowly started to listen in.

"Me?" Gary asked in rhetoric, "I've got planning to do!" He smirked and walked back over to the couch, leaning over Petey once more. Jimmy simply shook his head and walk out of the common room, presumably to go and save Bucky.

Gary returned his attention to Petey. He poked him in the back.

"Poke."

"Gary, knock it off!"

"Sorry." Gary chuckled and poked Petey again.

"Boop!"

More chuckling.

"Stop!"

Gary walked around to the front of the couch and lay down, stretching his feet across Petey's lap, yawning like the Chesire Cat, and certainly looking just as crazy. Gary let his head roll to the left and slowly began to drift off. Petey looked down at Gary, and felt a warm feeling rise up in his chest, one that he tried hopelessly to push away. But then, Gary abruptly sat up, almost knocking Petey in the jaw with one of his boots.

"Yo, Femme-boy," Petey much preferred being called Peter, but would even take being called Petey over Femme Boy any day.

"Yes, Gary?" Petey answered tiredly.

"Are you gonna answer my question?"

"Which one Gary," Petey said, his eyes never leaving the screen.

Gary sat up, and crossed his legs under him, propped his head up in his hand, and he leaned in close. So close, in fact, that Petey could smell his cologne, which had a slightly dizzying effect on poor Petey.

Gary was far too close for Petey's comfort.

"The one about the girl swimmers and the boy swimmers."

"W-why?"

"I've always been curious about you, Femme Boy," Gary said, his eyes never leaving Petey's, "and you know what they say, 'curiousity killed the cat.'"

That is exactly was Gary was, a cat. He sometimes appeared soft and inviting, like he was the warmest person on earth, and other times, he would hiss at you for no reason and avoid you for days at a time. If you tried holding him during this time, he would claw you, no matter how gentle you were with him.

Gary never thought of anyone but himself, and just like a cat, he always, always, toyed with his prey before going in for the kill.

Petey felt like he was being toyed with.

"It's not like it would matter anyways, Petey, you're so feminine..." Gary said softly, as he brought his hand to Petey's face.

"So soft," he whispered, and he moved closer, Gary had moved so far that he was practically on top of Petey.

"Always smelling like strawberries..." At this point, Gary had nestled his face into the crook of Petey's neck. A blush rose into Petey's cheeks and he gave a small gasp.

Gary was an experienced hunter. He knew what queues he should back away from and which queues were a go signal.

So he pounced.

Petey's mind was racing. At high speed. If the speed his thoughts were travelling could be measured, he you have found he had already broken the sound barrier and was going much faster the speed of light.

Petey placed his hand on Gary's chest in a rather warranted attempt to push him away; however, it was at this point Gary began doing something very interesting to a spot just under his earlobe. He fisted the fabric of Gary's shirt and gave a low moan. He felt Gary smile and could almost taste his smugness.

"G-gary," Petey shuddered as he felt his lips ghost over his earlobe, "what are you doing?"

Gary pulled away and Petey had to fight the feeling of disappointment rising in his chest. He placed a hand on either side of Petey. Gary looked at him coldly.

"Go on Petey, go cry to the teachers! Tell them I was nasty to you, that I assaulted you."

Those words sounded familiar. "Quit being a jerk Gary, I was just asking a question."

"Oh you're so cutting, I'm really upset! Actually, I think I'm going to cry."

"Jesus Gary, it was just a fucking question! I never said I wanted you to stop!"

Gary crushed his lips against his.

--

His first kiss.

He had always imagined his first kiss as something gentle and romantic, but one where there was a passion evident.

And here he was lying under Gary Smith.

Somehow, this didn't seem to match his childhood dream, because, of all things, Gary Smith least epitomized romance. But Petey was too dizzy to be concerned.

Gary ran his tounge lightly over his lips causing Petey to shudder, opening his mouth. Gary tasted bittersweet, like honey and lemon, except, stronger on the lemons.

He tasted wonderful.

Gary pulled away and looked at Petey. His school vest was wrinkled and his eyes closed. Lips swollen and cheeks flushed, his eyes fluttered open. Gary watched as Petey's lips moved slightly.

"Please Gary, don't stop."

Fuck.

Gary shoved off of Petey roughly, his face aflame. He made his way swiftly to the door, but stopped abruptly.

"This doesn't leave this room."

Leaving Petey shocked, and rather bothered, and wanting a certain first back.