Sympathy From The Devil

                By: Tinque Abelle

                Author's Notes: In case you are stupid and did not read the summary, this is a Pepito/Squee story. I love this pairing and find it the only plausible one in all of JtHM slashdom and yet, it is so rare. Bah. I mean, read the Squee! Comics. Am I the only one who sees the connection? Oh well. Just keep an open mind and leave a review is you can. Both comments and criticism will be welcomed. Flames are not. I tried my best to keep them in character and yet, participants in a slash fic, sooo … yeah.  It's hard. Be as gentle as you can.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Almighty Thinnest, Jhonen Vasquez. Worshiiip! I did not write this to make money. Frown.

Chapter One

Squee trembled lightly, walking down the crowded hallway. All of the surrounding students stared at him, whispering to each other and letting out little gasps. Dropping his view down onto his feet, Squee sadly sighed, knowing very well why he was attracting all of this attention. Today was his very first day of high school and already it was turning out horrible; he had promised himself to have a positive outlook today but he could not help but feel as if this schoolyear was going to rot, just like last year. And the year before that. And the year before that.

                "He's been in a mental institution for how long?!"

Squee winced as this whisper caught his ear. Suddenly, he was haunted by awful memories of his experiences back at the Defective Head Meat Institute. Shuddering, he quickened his pace, eventually colliding with another person. "Squeee!" he squeaked, "Sorry about tha -- Pepito?"

The opposite boy turned around. He was dressed in black attire,  except for his grayish-lavender striped sleeves, and sported a messy back mohawk. His eyes flung open in surprise, which frightened Squee, as one of them was red and and other was purple. "Squee! Hi!" he greeted in an odd, upbeat voice much unlike the tone he typically used.

Squee squeaked again as he felt Pepito's arms clamping around him in an embrace and quickly glanced around nervously at their audience. "Erm … Pepito …"

"You're in my homeroom this year!" He grabbed Squee's hand, walking down the hallway and pushing away students unfortunate enough to be standing in their way with an unnatural strength that caused them to cause dents in the lockers they crashed into.

Still being dragged by Pepito down the hallway, he wondered how he even made it to high school. Pepito was always missing school for the past three years of Junior High, supposedly helping his father ( Who happens to be the Devil, by the way. ) with his … work. It was questionable why none of the other students did not suspect him as the child of Satan -- two impish horns were protruding from his forehead, after all! Plus, he also spoke constantly about the  imminent demise of the world and placed mysterious curses on the people who annoyed him. Despite all of this, Squee felt relieved that he had run into him. Pepito was the only one in school who had ever seemed to care about him.

"Here we are …" Releasing Squee from him grip, Pepito stared triumphantly at the open door before him. On a plaque beside the doorway, it read, "Mr. Slant; World History." He merely scoffed. "World History. All we need to know is that the present that we are so familiar with is just a product of various events conducted by morons of the past who have so willingly paved a path for humanity's impending destruction. MORONS! What does war solve? Why is the crumbling welfare of third world countries neglected? Why do tyrants run the world? Why are people so blind as not to see their downfalls?! Why must they repeat their horrible, chaotic mistakes over and over again?!" He paused. "'Course … it does keep hell running so I shouldn't complain so much." He grinned and looked to Squee, who wore a face of horror. "Shall we?"

Before they could enter their homeroom, a large guy passed by and chortled with utmost obnoxiousness. "Are you guys fags or something? Heh, heh …"

Squee bit his lip with his eyes widened in astonish, then looked over at Pepito. Instead of melting the guy's skin off of his bones, Pepito just ignored him, but not without strain. His abnormal red and purple eyes quivered with anger and yet he stood perfectly still. As soon as the guy disappeared down where down the hall, he growled with frustration and punched the wall angrily. "Pepito?" Squee stared at him, a little frightened. " Erm … you okay?"

"Stupid mortals! No offense, Squee. Aargh! I could've sent him flaming down the hall but … but … AARGH! Fuck!"

                Confused, the quiet boy just blinked. "Why didn't you--"

                "My father told me not to attract too much attention to myself from now on." He let out an exasperated sigh. "This is going to be hard."

                "But … when have you ever followed rules?"

                "Well, my father will ground me and take away my new X-Box for a while, you see …"

                "Oh." Squee wished he had a game console. His parents seldom bought him anything. Why, his room was still filled with the same items he had when he was a child! The red shirt he was wearing clutched tightly onto his body, as it was rather old.

                "You think you can come over after school or something? You could see my new X-Box."

                "Erm …"

                "Oh, come now. It will be fun." He grinned mischievously.

                "Well, okay …" Squee slowly and smiled uneasily as he caught a disturbing glint in his eyes.

                During lunch, Squee was settled in the far corner of the cafeteria, completely transfixed upon his notebook, scribbling on the paper feverishly. The petty chattering was deafening but it did not seem to bother him too much. His food remained untouched, but it was probably better this way, as the food consisted of mainly grease and other questionable substances.

                Disgusted at the large crowd occupying the cafeteria, Pepito wandered around, searching for Squee with a tray of his lunch in his hands. His mohawk and ghastly appearance was a magnet to unwanted attention; he had the overwhelming desire to disintegrate them but refrained and cursed viciously under his breath instead. Finally, he spotted Squee and a smile rolled out onto his face. "Hello, Squee," he said, sitting down beside him. However, the dark-haired boy paid him no need, continuing to write maniacally. It was amazing to see that his hand was still attached to his wrist. "Squee?" Still no answer. "SQUEE!" He poked his shoulder and brought out a loud squeak from the boy, which turned everyone's head towards their direction for a moment.

                "Pepito, I'm writing!"

                "Aww, don't want to see your ol' friend? I am hurt." He mockingly frowned, looming over his shoulder.

                "I've been in every class you've been in so far! How'd we get the same classes anyway …?"

                He smirked. "I may have played some part in that … what are you writing?"

                Squee just looked at him in silence for a moment and then continued writing, with an expression that clearly pronounced his disappointment over Pepito's presence. Sure, he was a friend but he hated it when he was interrupted while in the process of writing. "A story," he eventually answered with a tone of timidity and irritation.

                "Oooh, about what?"

                "Stuffs."

                "Ah, stuffs." An awkward pause. "What the fuck is this?" He poked his lunch with a fork and shuddered as a small insect scurried off of his plate.

                "I guess it's supposed to be food," Squee answered, still writing.

                "Squee, why don't you like me?"

                He winced at the sudden change of topic. "What? No, I like you, I guess -- I'm just busy right now. I just came with a story idea and I want to get it written down on paper."

                "I didn't know you wrote."

                For some reason, Squee felt a tingling sensation, the kind you feel when you find an adorable little puppy in a pet store. Seeing Pepito acting like this was definitely something new; the gleam in his strange eyes was captivating. "Well, you haven't been to school too much for the past three years. I write all of the time. "

                "Oh." He averted his gaze.

                The tingling sensation returned. After another long, awkward pause, Squee said, "I kinda missed you …"

                Pepito quickly turned to him. "What? Me?"

                "Yeah. You were hardly around during Junior High."

                "Yeah, I had to work. Father's preparing me for the day of the second damnation and all. It is going to be fun. Just you wait." He smiled at his terrified expression. "How was Junior High? No one picked on you … did they?"

                "Erm … yeah, I guess … yeah …" He looked down, embarrassed.

                He flinched, suddenly feeling a slight tinge of guilt over the fact he was not there to ward off the morons who dared to pick on him. "Sorry, Squee."

                Was the spawn of Satan apologizing to him? Throughout the entire time in which he had known him, he had always been a little afraid of him … and now, he was being shown with sympathy. Sympathy from the devil.  "W-what?" he asked, wanting to confirm what he heard.

                "I said I'm sorry. I have always wanted to stick up for ya, but I guess I've just been too busy."

                "Stick up for me?"

                "Yeah. If you haven't noticed, you attract a lot of jerks. So … sorry. Yeah …" He scratched his head.

                Squee lowered his pencil and smiled.

                Squee nearly fainted from gym. He had not been prepared for the strenuous exercises he was forced to do, especially since it was his first day of school. In the locker room, he shook uncontrollably as he slipped into his regular clothes and breathed in and out frantically. Somehow, Pepito had managed to be his gym class as well and what struck him as more suspicious was that his locker was located right beside his. Unlike Squee, though, he seemed perfectly sedate,  although he was forced to participate in the same obstacles that Squee had to endure. 'Course, his divine powers probably helped him a little bit …

Many other boys were getting dressed up as well, panting heavily but not as loudly as Squee was. "Squee? You okay?" Pepito stared at him, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm … FINE," he squeaked, throwing his gym outfit into the locker and closing it.

"Faggot butt!" yelled a bystander. " He can't even run five miles without nearly passing out! What a wiiimp, being all human and stuff! LOOKIT! He's skinny! THIS OFFENDS MEEE! He's a faggot! Are you a faggot?" He looked at Squee and laughed noisily.

Pepito glared at the impudent mortal. "Fool! You can't have him. He's mine." He wrapped his arms around Squee and stuck his tongue out.

"AAAAH! FAGGOTS!"

"I would not do that if I were you," hissed Pepito as the fool was about to grab both of their necks and crush them into their lockers. He glared at him and all of the other boys who were now  witnesses of this scene.  They slowly moved back at the sight of his freakish eyes, now glowing with a demonic luminescence.

The bell signaled the end of gym and everyone scrambled out of the lockeroom, leaving Squee and Pepito behind.

"Well, that didn't take much." Pepito smiled triumphantly and placed his fists upon his hips.

Squee was stricken with alarm, his mouth gaping wide and his eyes practically bulging out of his sockets. "Pepito! Why'd … WHY'D YOU DO THAT?!"

He looked offended. "Do what?! It's true, isn't it?"

"NO!"

"We're friends, right?" Pepito slide his face up to Squee's, their lips barely touching.

"Y-yeah, but you said it like we were--"

"C'mon, Squee, let's go. We don't want to be late for our next class." Pepito walked off towards the exit, grinning his mischievous grin again.

Squee flinched. This was bound to spread like the plague … eep. Plagues are scary ...