Author's Note: Hi everyone, my name is Raven, and this, is a little baby that I like to call Stuart. It's based completely off of CP Coulter's Dalton. Which I suggest you read before you read this. This story came to me one day, and at first, it was the happenings in Dalton, but told from a Stuart's POV. Now, it is much more than that. It is Derek, it is his row team, and it is his life. And I sincerely hope you endure this journey that I take with him, cuz it's going to be awesome.

And, I'd like to take the time to thank a very special person, and I'm not sure if she wants to be known, but I'll call her L, just in case. L, I don't know what I would have done without you. You helped me develop my characters, you listened when I was unsure of what to do, and how to develop this story. You took my frantic asks 'till almost 3 in the morning. I don't know about you, but to me, that kind of dedication deserves recognition. You may not say this isn't yours, but it is yours as much as it is mine, and these boys are running around in my head as much has they are taking over yours. I am so thankful I have you as my co-pilot on this crazy ride. I thank you, and my boys thank you. So much, you really don't know how much you have helped me. All I can show you is my gratitude. Mwah! ~

Disclaimer: I don't own Dalton, or CP's characters, and I do not own Glee. The only thing I own are my own characters.

Stuart

Chapter One: Warm-Ups

"…The fuck was that about – another exam? I only just finished selling my soul to the devil to study for the one we just had. I swear, if I don't get at least a ninety-seven percent on this one… " Derek Seigerson muttered threateningly as he exited his French class.

"I'm sure it won't be that bad for you." Derek looked to the side and saw his fellow crew teammate Cal Morrel, a Stuart and his substitute wingman when Julian and Logan failed to suffice. Unlike Julian and Logan, Cal was relatively good-natured and easy to talk to and right now, after that grueling test, the all-nighter Derek had pulled studying for it, and his issues with the senator's son, he was also the breath of fresh air Derek needed. He smirked up at Cal, who was a few inches taller than Derek, as they walked down to the locker room together.

"It probably wouldn't be that bad if Madame Saint-Clair didn't put nearly impossible verb conjugates on the next exam, when it's only two days away." Derek explained, putting the pen he had put behind his ear into his bag.

"I'm pretty sure my brain is still partially unharmed. I might still have some cells left up there." Cal said thoughtfully, running a hand through his light brown hair.

Derek shrugged, and grunted when he felt a light push on his back. He turned to look at where it came from, and rolled his eyes as he saw a taller boy with black hair prance his was over to a group of students at the end of the hallway. He noticed this group of boys as Windsor boarders—a group of kids Derek was obligated to dislike, due to the fact that he was a Stuart boarder.

The Stuart-Windsor rivalry dated as far back as Derek's father's time when he attended Dalton Academy—probably even more dated than that. Derek wasn't entirely sure what actually started the house war; all he knew was that the competition between the two houses was endless. He felt it was his responsibility as the captain of two sports teams to make sure his house was always recognized as having the best players on said teams. And that's how the competition purely used to be; houses fighting against other houses. But ever since Derek was a freshman, the rivalry had gotten a great deal more personal and he was taught by the upperclassmen to dislike not just Windsor house in general, but also the people in the house. And it wasn't hard to do that, not when the Windsor's were so loud and obnoxious that they reminded Derek of screaming toddlers with too much sugar.

The boy that had pushed him was Wesley Hughes, and while Derek didn't particularly mind him (he was okay as far as Windsors went), he didn't go out of his way to make nice with him, either. He watched as the oriental-skinned boy and David, a darker boy with a dancer's body, talked animatedly with the rest of the group. He scowled slightly at them as his eyes scanned the other two boys. He first caught sight of the short, compact Blaine Anderson and Derek, with good reason, couldn't help but shudder at the prospect of him.

Blaine Anderson and Logan Wright, Derek's best friend, had dated the year before. Derek had never particularly liked Blaine, but he was a Windsor, so it was mostly just the bad blood between houses that shaped his initial opinion of the hobbit." But when they started dating, he made sure to watch what he said about him around Logan. In fact, he made sure he didn't bring the subject up at all, because he knew in the end it would just wage a war with his best friend, who was so nauseatingly smitten with the Windsor boy. So he kept his distance. He stayed as far away as he could until that day. The day Logan's world literally came crashing down on him. One thing led to another—fights ensued, things were broken, and Logan was expelled, leaving Derek to pick up the pieces. He had a good reason—a very good reason now—for disliking Blaine.

This left another boy for Derek to silently judge, but when his eyes rested on the petite, fragile looking boy, his eyes softened, realizing he didn't recognize him. He cocked his head to the side and continued to watch him. He was standing with his hands on his hips, the boy's pink lips were pursed, and his dark hair was gelled back meticulously. Derek noticed that it almost resembled that of Blaine's gelled back black curls. He continued to glare at the pair, watching as Kurt lightly put his arm on Blaine's.

Yup, definitely gay.

He lost his train of thought when he was being ushered down the hallway by other students coming out of the class room, and he immediately shook his head and continued to follow Cal out down the hallway.

"So what are we doing in practice today?" Cal asked him, forcing Derek to come out of his thoughts.

"It's Friday. So we're running the course."

Cal nodded, "Alright, good. We need the run; the guys keep increasing their mile times. If we want to win the next Regatta, they have to make sure—"

"—That their mile times are consistently under their goal times," Derek finished, rolling his eyes slightly. "Yeah, I know. I just think they are being lazy asses. They can do it, they just don't want to."

Cal grinned evilly, an idea sparking in his mind, "Should we go barbarian on them?"

Derek snorted, "How? By making them run even more? Sorry, but I don't think that's a good idea with the Regatta coming up. We want them to be energized, not completely famished."

Cal considered this, looking a bit disappointed and asked, "So what are we going to do then?"

"We'll just have to tell them to get their shit together. If they don't, we'll lose. I know it's simple, but they want to win just as much as we do. Trust me—Madden did the same thing to us when we were freshman, remember?"

Cal smiled slightly at the memory of their old graduated captain. Madden Tierney was one of the best rowers Dalton Academy had ever seen, sending the team to win national titles his two years as captain. As a captain, Derek looked up to him immensely, as did Cal as co-captain. And Derek almost mirrored Madden's captaining techniques, but he didn't have the patience that Madden did—something which Derek feared would later cost him greatly. He tried though. Honest to god tried to keep his temper and keep the boys in line. But it was a thin line to walk anyway—he couldn't be too lenient and forgiving or else the boys would think he was soft. And he couldn't be too harsh and impatient, or they'd kill themselves before the Regatta even arrived.

The boys continued to discuss training tactics when they heard a voice calling them from behind,

"Derek, Cal, wait up!" The boys turned around and saw Nate Kapp—or Kappa, as he likes to be called—with his mop of blonde hair walking frantically towards then. Cal's eyes grew wide and his face broke into one of the goofiest grin Derek had ever seen as he watched his best friend become more exasperated with every step he took. Derek just took a deep breath as he waited for Kappa to reach them. Once he did, Kappa shook a 14 page term paper at them in frustration, his light brown hair shaking in tune with his body, his brown eyes filling with aggravation.

"This paper—I have been slaving over it—for weeks. And now Professor Murdoch wants to meet with me to discuss it." Kappa said breathlessly, clutching the paper so hard his knuckles were turning white.

Derek's look of amusement turned to confusion, "I thought that wasn't due for another few days?"

Kappa shook his head, "Maybe for you, but he hates my class. It's full of kids from Windsor, and you know he doesn't like them," Derek and Call nodded in agreement—Derek couldn't suppress a snicker of amusement—and Kappa continued, "—so we have the earliest deadline. All because of Windsors! Anyway, I need to go and meet with him, like, four minutes ago. So I'm going to be late for practice. Sorry, Derek," Cal winced and shrugged helplessly.

Cal nodded, but Derek was not so forgiving. He rolled his eyes at Kappa, "Make sure he doesn't take up too much of your time. We have a Regatta coming up—we all need all of the training we can get."

"Don't worry; I'll be there as soon as I can. I'll catch up with you guys!" With that, and a rather frantic wave, Kappa fled from the pair, still clutching his paper as if it would be the death of him.

Cal noticed Derek's slightly uneasy demeanor, "It's alright Seigerson, relax. He's one of our best rowers. No worries." Derek shoulders fell slowly at Cal's casual tone, as if a bit of pressure was off of him.

Being Kappa's best friend, Cal did know him best. They grew up together, and they were naturally attached at the hip. Derek regarded the two friends as the closest a pair of boys could get without wanting to throw each other's clothes off. They had an epic "bromance," as he would call it. And while Derek most of the time found it amusing, even at times endearing, he sometimes wanted to vomit at the sight of them.

Derek nodded when he noticed Cal smile at him, and they endured the last stretch of hallway that led to the locker room. As Cal opened the large door that led into the boys' locker room, the loud eruption of noise became incredibly louder and quite audible.

He took a deep breath as he knew the sound could only be coming from his teammates. As they approached the boys, he saw that they were all laughing at something Rodney Copeland, a shorter dark boy with a wide smile, was saying. Cal looked over to Derek, who loudly cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. The other boys in the locker room went silent when they turned and saw Derek standing at the door, with a look of annoyance on his face. The looked down in shame and mumbled their apologies.

Rodney however, continued to speak as if the other teammates weren't intimidated by Derek's presence, "Like I was saying, I am so ready to get it on down in Lima Heights tonight!"

Grayson, a tall boy with golden blonde hair and dark eyes, stood up from the bench he was sitting on, his large muscles becoming apparent as he draped a shirt over his head, "You're going there again? You do realize every time you go there you either get rejected or mugged—how many times do we have to go over this?"

"Also, consider the fact that you never get any from this girl when you do go there." Derek turned his head after opening his varsity locker to see Burke Watson patting Rodney sympathetically on the shoulder, his raven hair falling slightly into his hazel eyes as he did so. Derek laughed at his comment and took off his blazer and tie, watching the interaction, which was also gaining Cal's interest.

Rodney smirked at the attention and announced, "It'll all be worth it boys. I'm telling you—she's a freak. Everyone knows it; it's just a matter of time before I get some."

"And I'm telling you, it's not going to happen tonight." Grayson muttered, putting a sweatband on his forehead.

"'Wanna bet, Brody?" Rodney smacked the back of Grayson's neck and at the sound of his surname, Grayson growled. He turned around swiftly and hit Rodney on the top of his head. This in turn caused Rodney to lift his fist and aim for Grayson's abdominals, but Derek caught sight of this,

"Knock it off, dipshits!" He said threateningly, and he smiled smugly as the two boys lowered their fists at Derek's demand. Grayson patted Rodney's back apologetically and walked back to his own locker to continue changing. Rodney sat on the bench, grabbing his sneakers and socks. He smirked and turned his attention to Derek,

"If anyone is a playboy, it's this guy. So what about you, Seigerson? Are you still hooking up with that one chick?"

"Which girl are you talking about? You know Seigerson; he never sticks to just one." The other boys in the room turned to the doorway and saw Kappa, who had just walked in, smirking at Derek.

"Aren't you trying to go after that one chick— the one who is dating a Warbler from Windsor—? Hot cheerleader from St. Patrick's…?" Grayson asked.

"Hell if I know who she's dating, I don't associate myself with Windsors." Derek said, his eyes narrowing as he heard a few groans from the back of the locker room.

Turning his head, he caught sight of Andrew and Theodore, the two Hanover boarders that were on the Row and Crew team.

"What?" Derek rolled his eyes at the two and their disapproving looks. "I'm not going to apologize for disliking the Windsor's. Just because you Hanovers over there are Switzerland doesn't mean I have to watch what I say about them," Derek spat.

Theodore, the only freshman on the team, shook his head fiercely, "No, it's not that, it's just—it gets tiring."

"Well get over it. I know you're new and a freshman, but the rivalry isn't going anywhere." Derek said, slamming his locker shut, holding his sneakers in one hand and his water bottle in another. "You Hanovers have fun in your meadow of rainbows and fluffy bunnies, but don't delude yourselves. Windsors hate Stuarts, Stuarts hate Windsors. And that is never going to change."

Andrew sighed sadly and nodded forward to Theodore as he lifted his running shoes from the bench. But Jon, a tall, dark-haired boy with sharp blue eyes snapped,

"Whatever. Can we get to practice, already?"

Derek took another deep breath as he watched Jon walk briskly out of the locker room, not bothering to wait for Derek to respond.

Cal approached Derek and ordered the team to follow them out to the running course. As they walked, Cal whispered to Derek, "Sometimes, I really think Jon's Olympic training bullshit goes to his already big head."

Derek snorted in complete agreement and hummed in response. Jon Eagen, the only other Hanover, was easily one of the better acquainted rowers on the team; having been training for the Olympic Row team since before he had even started high school. Derek knew that Jon envied him and Cal for being captains. Jon had the skill, but since Olympic training had him out of school and practice for weeks at a time, Coach Sped felt it was only fair he give the position to other teammates who were more dedicated. Jon understood, but his jealousy shined through whenever either captain had to act their part—which was all of the time.

Derek looked to Cal and changed the subject, "Do you have the time sheets?"

"Oh, uh—yeah I do," Cal reached into his pocket and handed the folded over paper to Derek, who began to read it as he and his teammates approached the course. Jon was already there, stretching out his legs.

"So, are we gunna do this, chief?" He asked with a challenging eyebrow raise, pleased when it got him a glare from Derek.

Derek grinded his teeth, but took a deep breath and straightened up as the other boys formed a semi-circle around himself and Cal.

"We're running this course to beat our goal times that I have here on this sheet." Derek announced, holding up the sheet, "If you beat it, that's great, but if one person doesn't beat their time, we all have to run it again. Clear? So don't be the slacker who pisses on everybody's parade."

The boys, looking uninterested, simply nodded and walked over to the beginning of the course. Derek sighed at their reaction—Fridays always proved to be a lazy day and it was as annoying as hell—and looked to Cal, who simply grinned. No matter the attitudes of the boys, Cal always seemed to be smiling about something. His co-captain squeezed his shoulder and dragged him to the beginning of the course.

Derek looked ahead past Cal and let out a sigh of relief as he saw nothing but the branches of the leafless trees. He always enjoyed running in wooded areas—it helped him escape his own reality. The trees, to Derek, were almost like another world. They took him from his life and relaxed him. The sound of the tree leaves brushing up against each other was soothing to him, and for as long as he could remember, he made it a point to run on windy days just so he could hear the leaves move with the wind. Whenever he was having a bad day, or just needed to escape from life, he ran, because the trees never went anywhere, and their calming sounds were always at hand when he needed it.

He heard Cal blow the whistle, and Derek took off at a fast pace. He felt his feet hit the ground in rhythmic movement, eventually attaining a steady pace. He began to pump his arms back and forth so he could gain speed.

And he just ran.

And he continued to run. He ran away from everything that scared him, from every expectation he was afraid he wouldn't live up to. He ran from the thoughts of his parents, who expected him to be the best at everything he tried. Who were always telling him he could do better. Who implied nothing he did would ever be good enough. Who told him he had to do better, even when he thought he had done the best he could. He ran from his adorable little sister, who he hated more than anything to leave behind. He ran from the sight of her tears when they said good-bye before he went away to school.

He ran from the thoughts of his professors, who didn't give him the encouragement he strived for.

He ran from the friends whom he had to look after and keep in line. Who he sometimes felt he could never live up to.

He ran from the thoughts of his coach, who pushed him to be the best he could be, even when he thought—goddamnit, knew—he wasn't. He ran from his position as captain – from his teammate's jealousy, anger, respect, and kindness towards him.

If running was going to be his escape, he needed to run from everything that had ever come into his life. And that's exactly what he did.

Derek moaned as he saw smaller figures reach the end of the course. When the end of the course was becoming more apparent in view, Derek felt his reality crash into him. His thoughts began rushing to his brain at a mile a minute, catching up with him, and he couldn't eradicate them as much as he tried:

I need to make sure Logan takes his medication tonight—

Where the hell is Julian now?—

I should probably call Amanda soon. Her first day back to school must have been hard—

Professor Ayer's Stat test is tomorrow, I need to study—

He noticed the two figures as Jon and Andrew as he dashed the final stretch of the course. The two boys were looking at the timesheet and their wrist watches with grim looks on their faces.

"Seigerson didn't make his time." Derek heard Andrew say.

Fuck.

Derek slowed his pace once he crossed the finish line, and stopped a bit after Jon and Andrew. He walked over to them with his hands behind his hair, letting the oxygen flow and regulate his lungs.

"Let me see the sheet!" Derek demanded, holding his hand out to the two boys. Andrew nodded and passed the sheet to him.

"I know my last time was 6:07," Derek muttered to himself, "I know I beat that – What was my time?" He turned to Andrew, growing impatient with every second that passed.

Andrew looked down at his stop watch and sighed, "6:09."

"Damn it!" Derek threw the sheet down in frustration and stormed off a bit, walking away from the pair. He picked up his water bottle that was sitting nearby on the ground and took a swig of it, gulping half of it down his throat, half-hoping he'd drown in it. He muttered curse words under his breath as he watched the remainder of his teammates come back from their run. He sighed as he stalked over to the boys who were all slowly walking with their hands over their heads.

When he approached, the other boys formed a semi-circle around Cal. Derek stood next to him and Cal looked to the group crowded around him,

"So how'd we do boys?"

Jon scoffed, "Why don't you ask Derek?"

Derek glanced at Jon with cold eyes. Jon however stood his ground and glared back, a sneer placed on his lips. He had beaten his time by a good amount and he was definitely not shy about it. Fuck, what Derek wouldn't give to punch him in his mouth.

Cal gave a questioning look to Derek, who shamefully muttered, "I missed my time by two seconds."

The rest of the team groaned, but nonetheless, they retreated back to the beginning of the course and started stretching.

Jon looked over at them in disbelief, "Are you freakin' kidding me? We seriously have to do this again?"

Derek's eyes averted sharply to Jon, "Yes, we do." He snapped. "And you have to beat your new time this round, so you better start stretching."

"Just because you didn't make your time, doesn't mean we all have to suffer for it." Jon spat as his eyebrows narrowed. He watched as Derek stormed up to him, his face only mere inches from his, and he spoke in a deep, hushed voice,

"Those are the rules – If one man doesn't finish, then we all do it over. This is a team, Olympics. Man up."

Jon's nostrils flared, and he pushed Derek away from him. Jon rolled his eyes and stormed over to where his other teammates were watching the spectacle and stood by them.

Derek turned back to Cal, who was now closer to him than before, "I don't know if you should have done that." Cal murmured to him.

Derek only shrugged, "You're too nice, Morrell. He needs to be talked to like that. He needs to respect the rules—and us."

Cal smiled slightly and shook his head, "Always the bad cop, aren't you?"

Derek grinned, "Someone has to be."

"Seigerson!"

Derek emerged from the locker room, his dark hair still damp from the shower and his gym bag slung over his shoulder. He looked up and saw his coach, Sped, walking towards him.

Derek smiled slightly and walked over to him, noticing that Coach Sped's thick dark hair was hidden under a sailing cap. He was wearing bright boating shoes and plaid shorts, which was very different from the normal sweat suit-like attire that he wore. Derek smirked as his eyes met the pale pink polo he was sporting, and Coach Sped noticed,

"Wipe the look, Derek." He looked down at his polo and straightened it out.

"Do you see what you're wearing right now Sped? I mean, I know I can pull off the look, but you, of all people – "

"I said drop it." Derek noticed Sped's harsh look and shut up immediately. Derek wasn't normally intimidated by anyone, but Coach Sped was perhaps one of the most daunting people he had ever encountered.

Derek muttered an apology, "Sorry…so what's up?"

Sped pointed towards his office, which was down the hallway, "Come with me." He said with a hint of impatience in his voice.

Derek's stomach flipped over twice as he followed Sped down the corridor. What did I do?

Sped unlocked his office door and swung it open, allowing Derek to walk in first and sit down in the large plush chair that sat before a grand oak desk. Derek glanced around the room as Sped closed the door, his eyes catching the light of the many trophies displayed on the glass shelves on the walls. He searched for his own trophies and smiled as he saw the few that bore his name along with Cal's as MVP for the past two years. They always looked the shiniest to Derek, but hey, he was bias.

Sped sat down in front of Derek and folded his hands on the desk, giving him an intense look.

"Have you thought about scholarships, Derek?"

Derek sighed. Here we go. "No, I haven't. It's just the beginning of the season, Coach."

"Never too early, as I always say." Sped said, leaning forward.

"I guess, but, I don't think I should really be worrying about that right now with the Regatta coming up – "

" – That should give you more of a reason to worry about it. Colleges look for kids like you, Derek. Kids who are strong leaders, who don't let their personal lives get in the way of their performance on the water. They are looking for you. You need to be ready."

"Okay," He gave in and bit his lip, "So what do I have to do?"

"Make sure we win the Regatta in two weeks. As a Stroke, you have to communicate with Cal and make sure that boat is balanced, and make sure the boys get their heads out of there you-know-what's!"

Derek nodded, understanding his concern. While Derek grasped that the Dalton Academy Crew Team was one of the best in the state, he also knew that his teammates could be a bit on the undetermined side. He knew he had a talented group of boys on the team, but sometimes the team's enthusiasm matched that of an envelope stuffer. This was the Coach's way of telling him to inspire them and get them working. The problem was that Derek didn't know how. The boys were stubborn and wild and all had their own styles of learning and he was just one guy. Why wasn't Cal in here too? He was co-captain.

Derek ran a frustrated hand through his hair, but smiled to hide the tension he was sure was raging in his eyes, "I'll do my best, Sped."

Sped nodded, "You better, otherwise we'll be sure to not qualify in the next Regatta. It's all on you kid, I'm counting on you."

Derek stood up and shook the hand that Sped held out to him. "No problem sir, I can do this."

"That's what I like to hear. I'll see you tomorrow bright and early – we're going out on the water, and it's going to be cold, so dress appropriately."

Derek nodded again and left Sped's office, slamming the door shut behind him. He felt his pulse rise and his palms being to sweat as he walked down the hallway, out of the building and towards Stuart, where he was sure his night was only just starting. He had so much work to get done. And there were not enough hours in the day to do it.

"Seriously Derek, where have you been?"

And so it begins. Derek had barely walked into the house when Logan came out from behind the door. He looked extremely pissed off if his crossed arms and the fire in his eyes were any indication.

"I had practice, Logan. You should know that." Derek said breathlessly.

"I sure didn't forget," Logan sneered, "But you must have forgotten that you invited one of your pathetic excuses for a girlfriend over—because she's been sitting in the Common Room for fifteen minutes!"

Derek's eyes widened as he peered over Logan's shoulder and into the dim-lit Common Room, where he saw an absolutely gorgeous, yet livid girl sitting on the couch, her short legs crossed and her arms tight at her sides. Her long wavy brown hair was pulled into a low ponytail, and she was all dressed up—were they going on a date or something?—and she wasn't Dobry—

Crap. Spit it out, Derek. Come on, you know her name. Derek whispered to Logan, "How did she even get in? There's a rule about girls in the dorm—"

"Don't you think I know that?" Logan snarled. "I told her she had to leave, and she went ape shit on me! You'd think for such a petite girl, she'd be no problem—but boy was I wrong," He exclaimed and shook his head, "You need to get her out—"

"Okay—"

"NOW."

Derek nodded quickly and walked over to the couches, his voice becoming low and soft to ease her anger, "H—Hey babe."

The girl's head shot up and she scowled, wiping some hair out of her face "Nice of you to finally show up."

Derek put on a charming smile, "I didn't know—"

"How could you NOT know, Derek? We made these plans weeks ago! You promised me we would go out!" She exclaimed, slamming her tiny fist onto the couch.

"Listen, baby—" He grabbed her wrist lightly and squeezed it, rubbing circles with his thumb.

"DON'T call me that!" The girl snapped, ripping her wrist out of his grasp. He took a deep breath and looked down at her,

"What do you want me to do? I got out of practice late and—"

"WELL THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE CALLED!"

"Keep your voice down—"

"I WILL DO WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT!"

"You're not even supposed to be here—"

"WELL HOW ELSE WAS I SUPPOSED TO GET A HOLD OF YOU?"

"Well, calling is always a good place to start – " Derek muttered, slowly growing more and more irritated.

"What was that?" She glared, her breathing was intense and her lips were quivering.

Oh shit. "I didn't say anything – "

"Are you calling me stupid?" Her eyes grew wide at the accusation, and narrowed at Derek stumbling over his words,

"What? No! Of course not – "

She shook her head, fuming, as she screamed, "FORGET YOU, DEREK! We are done!"

With that, she fled from Derek's sight and stormed out of the door Logan was holding open for her. She huffed at him and he slammed the door shut behind her, wiping his hands off as if he had dirt on them.

He turned to Derek, who gave him an apologetic yet amused look, "Sorry, Lo."

He smirked, "Damn right," He looked at the door, feeling the ghost of the girl's anger looming in the air, "So who was that?"

Derek shrugged, "Beats me. I blanked on her name."

Logan laughed heartily, "You've got to be kidding me."

"Wish I was Logan, I wish I was." He smiled at his friend as he ran his hand through his hair.

Logan grinned at his friends' carelessness, "How many does that leave you with now, then? three, four girlfriends you're at now?"

Derek exhaled proudly, "Yep! And the number will just keep increasing, just watch."

"How you don't have any diseases is still beyond my comprehension." Logan mumbled.

"What can I say; I was blessed with good looks and luck. The fates are on my side."

Logan rolled his eyes, "Oh my god," He said in disbelief.

Derek beamed, "My God, too."

Logan laughed and Derek started to head up the stairs. He turned around as an afterthought,

"Did you take your medication?"

Logan's fading yet lingering smile turned to an immediate scowl, "No, I did not."

"Take them, Logan. You need to. You know what the doctors said—"

"I don't care what they said. Those doctors were recommended by my father. They were probably all paid to prescribe me those pills to shut me up."

"If you don't take it, you know I will force you to take it. Don't make me get the entire house involved again. You know what happened last time—"

Logan held up his hand at the memory, shuddering as he said, "Fine. I'll take them. Jesus."

Derek nodded his head and headed back up the stairs. When he reached the top and rounded the corner towards his single room, he caught sight of Rodney and Grayson hanging outside of their bedroom doors. The boys were watching him walk down to his room with visible and irritating smirks on their faces.

Derek raised his eyebrows at them quizzically, "Can I help you?"

"Mmm, we were just enjoying your little show. Losing your touch, Seigerson?" Rodney questioned suggestively, leaning against his closed door.

Derek laughed indifferently, "Says the guy who can't even get touched," He glanced over to Grayson, who was doubled over in laughter and smiled at him,

"Grayson," He nodded, "Always a pleasure." Grayson waved and continued to chortle as Rodney stood dumbfounded. He shook out his momentary stare and called back to Derek,

"Hey! At least I still have a girl!"

Derek turned around before he opened his door, smiling with sarcastic sweetness, "They don't call me, "Dalton's playboy" over at Dobry for nothing, Rod!"

Derek opened his door and slammed it shut, not bothering to care about the argument between Grayson and Rodney that was taking place out in the hall.

He settled into his desk chair and pulled his laptop and textbooks, preparing himself for a Friday night full of coursework and studying, momentarily distracting him from the million other obligations he had to fill.

Just as he was finishing up the standard deviation for his Statistics homework, he heard his phone ring. He picked it up to see a text from Logan,

It's past quiet hours. Get your Crew boys to shut up or I will. And I didn't take my meds yet. So keep that in mind when deciding if you want them to live to see tomorrow or not.

Derek grumbled and rolled his eyes. He got up from his chair and walked to his door He opened it, poking his head out of the door. He indeed heard the massive noise in the form of rap music coming from a few of his teammates' dorm rooms. He took a deep breath and called out,

"If the Crew team doesn't keep quiet, I'm ordering a double session tomorrow AND Sunday!"

When the team ignored his request, Derek took another deep breath to improve the quality of his yell, "AND I'll order weekend suspensions for everyone for the rest of the season!"

Derek smirked as the hall immediately went dead silent.

"That's what I thought!" He closed his door quietly and looked back to the massiveness of homework he still had left to do.

He heard his phone ring again and smiled when he saw the text from Logan.

Thanks. Go to sleep now.

Derek replied back quickly, I'll sleep when you take your medication.

Fuck you, Derek.

Good night, Logan.

Derek then tossed his phone deep into his pile of dirty laundry and went back to his desk, where he spent the rest of the night and some hours into the morning determined to get his work done.

"—Derek Seigerson is going to have it coming to him one of these days, man."

"Just breathe, Jon. Don't get so worked up."

"To HELL with that. What happened today was bullshit."

Jon Eagen paced around his dorm room frantically, muttering to himself as he did so. His casual dark hair was now sticking out in all different places, due to running his hands through it as an attempt to calm him down. His deep eyes were filled with fury and intensity. He looked to Andrew, whose long legs were propped up on his desk as he continued to take notes on Biology, casually glancing up now and again as Jon went off on one of his nightly rants. Being the roommate of the asshole on the Crew team sucked, especially on nights like these when all Jon could talk about was Derek. Sometimes Andrew thought he should be a Windsor for all the hate his roommate liked to spew about the Stuart.

Andrew only exhaled as he peered at Jon through his glasses, "It's the rules, Eagen."

Jon glared down at Andrew, his anger reaching great heights, "Since when have you cared about rules?" He asked darkly.

Andrew scowled, his blood boiling a bit as past memories sprung back to him at the comment. He shook his head and his expression tightened, "I just think you're overacting. We only had to run it twice anyway and it's in the playbook—you don't leave a man behind. You need to get over it."

"But the way he spoke to me! Does he know who I am—"

"I think we all do—" Andrew muttered under his breath.

"I could row laps around that jackass," Jon preached, oblivious to Andrew's remark, "He can't treat me like that in front of the team."

Andrew lifted an eyebrow and barely contained a sarcastic comment of his own. He hated it when Jon got self-righteous. Sure, the boy was probably better than all of them—he was training for the Olympics—but that didn't give him the right to any special treatment or consideration from Seigerson. "Who cares?" He finally said, "He's the captain and you're not. Don't give him a hard time just because you didn't get what you want."

Andrew winced slightly as his words hit below the belt. Jon stopped pacing the moment they were out in the air, and his body tensed, jaw firm, while his dark blue eyes glossed over with instant hatred. Everyone on Crew knew Jon had a desire to be captain—and thought he deserved it—and they were under the impression he did not take getting looked over very well. Andrew slowly lowered his legs and searched his brain for some words that would do some damage control in this situation.

He didn't have to. Jon did not respond to him, instead rushing back to his desk to pull out a piece of paper and pen where he began to scribble something down very quickly.

Andrew watched him intently, still cautious and guarded "What are you doing?"

Jon grinned wickedly, "I'm going to make sure he doesn't get Captain next year. And you're going to help me."

Andrew pushed his glasses up to the top of his nose and scoffed, "Says who?"

Jon sneered, "Says me. I know about you, Noller. I know about everything. And I'm not afraid to expose you to everyone."

Andrew grew paler with every word his roommate spoke. His light eyes expanded as he let out a hallow breath and felt Jon's vindictive stare bear into him—it was like the boy was staring into every year of his life, every moment of his past, and then dangling it all in front of him. The lump in his throat grew and tightened as Jon walked closer and hovered over him. Andrew flinched as he approached, his heart beating out of nervousness.

"Well, why do you need my help? H – how do you know it's going to work? You don't even know what you're going to do, right?" Andrew asked hopefully, as if he could somehow talk Jon out of his crazy mindset. Jon was silent.

Being his roommate, Andrew had seen the many different faces of Jon over the past few years, something no one else on Crew was privileged to see. Unlike all his teammates, Andrew had a better idea of who Jon as a person was and yeah, thought he was a pretentious gloat and resident jerk, but never thought he was cruel. But now there was something Andrew had never seen before. He had never seen Jon's passion as furious and malicious as it was at this moment. He observed uncertainly as Jon grimaced and walked away from him to the grand window that was placed in the middle of the room. He heard Jon take a deep breath and watched as his hands balled up into fists.

Andrew cringed when Jon turned around to face him, flashing Andrew a look. "Just trust me."

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Love, Raven x