Part One

Scott pulled out his slide and uncapped his slide grease. He squirted a small amount on the slide and hastily rubbed it in. A movement from the side caught his attention. He glanced over to see Isaac, a clarinet player, sitting down a few chairs away from him. Scott smiled when Isaac glanced up then went back to greasing his slides. His third valve slide had been sticking all during practice and it was a pain to get out.

He was just finishing up with the last slide when another movement caught his eye. He looked up from his trumpet in time to get a face full of sweaty towel.

"Gross!" he bit out, throwing the towel down to familiar laughter. "Stiles!" he growled.

"Oh, come on, just a little manly body sweat!" Stiles teased.

Scott gave his long-time friend a half-hearted glare. He glanced behind Stiles and noticed Isaac was still there. The other boy gave him a small smile when Scott caught him watching their interaction. Scott smiled back as Isaac popped his reed into his mouth.

Scott had to admit, he would have pegged Stiles for a woodwind, constantly sucking on a reed would have been perfect for his friend's oral fixation, but then again, maybe percussion was a better place for the ultra hyper, ADHD kid.

He watched Isaac move the reed from one side of his mouth to the other, the slightest flash of pink tongue helped move it along. He felt the familiar, uncomfortable stirring that always came when he watched the taller boy get ready for practice.

"Hey! Earth to Scott!" Stiles interrupted. Scott tore his eyes away from Isaac's mouth and glanced back over to his friend.

"Sorry, what?" he asked.

"So, truth time, dude. How often do you use that shit for lube?" Stiles teased, bringing up an old joke as he pointed at the slide grease and valve oil. He opened his mouth to give the normal response when a loud clatter stopped him mid breath. He looked back at Isaac and found the taller boy blushing, clarinet case on the floor. He had a tube of cork grease out and half way to the instrument on his lap.

"Good thing your clarinet wasn't in the case," Scott offered, hoping to change the subject.

"Uh, yeah," Isaac answered around the reed still in his mouth, bending down and picking up spare reeds, a mouthpiece and what looked like a broken ligature. "Huh. Guess I should clean this thing out more often," he muttered.

"Dude! Come on, hurry up! Call of Duty, my house. My dad's out all night!" Stiles nudged him, pulling his attention away from Isaac once again.

"Okay, okay. Let me just put my trumpet up and we can go. Guess we'll see you tomorrow?" he asked, turning back to Isaac. The taller boy just nodded. Scott knew that the squad leader for the clarinets liked to have the practice field last, always running their practice into the dark, but tomorrow would be a full-band day, so he'd see the other boy then.

"Yeah. Have fun playing video games," Isaac offered with a small smile before picking up his now completely put together clarinet and walking out the band room door.

"That kid is weird," Stiles spoke up, watching Isaac disappear outside.

"That, coming from you?" Scott teased.

"Har har. Seriously, move it! Pizza… Playstation… " Stiles wheedled.

"I'm surprised you didn't throw Porn in there," Scott teased.

"Hey, the night's still young. Let's go!" Stiles jumped up and grabbed his drum sticks and jogged out of the band room. Scott rolled his eyes and put his trumpet carefully in its case, ready to go for practice in the morning then carried it into the instrument room and slid it into his cubby.

A/N: I was in marching band for a total of 12 years between Jr. High, Sr. High and college. I played trumpet and french horn but my best friends played clarinet. Terms and such are used based on what things were called and how we did stuff, so there is room for differences. There is more to come, I have tons of plans/ideas for this… I couldn't help it…it calls to me…