#maffhew what have you done here

[ratatatastic]

thats uh... thats a way to... put that sasha...

[ddproductionsw77]

The Electronic Configuration of Hate and Love (Pt. 2)

Fandom: Girl Meets World

Pairing(s): Riarkle, hints at side Lucaya and flirts with Zaya for fun.

Prompt from riarklespirfire: Part 2 of the Electronic Configuration of Hate and Love, a Riarkle enemies-to-friends-to-lovers AU

Author’s Note: I decided to keep on this one because I just loved it so much!!!! So, this is the official announcement that The Electronic Configuration of Hate and Love will be a book instead of a one or two shot as originally planned. I actually already have the plot laid out and everything so…

Find it on FF.net or at Ao3 as well!

Riley Matthews was not his friend.

She really wasn’t.

Because Farkle Minkus could never be friends with someone like her.

She was just so fucking entitled, with her decent looks, social easy, and (admittedly) impressive intelligence, not to mention that having her father as one of their teachers did her attitude no favors either.

And that waltz she always seemed to have? The inherent skip in her step? It made his skin crawl.

Or rather, it usually did…

She was also astoundingly naive and so damn idealistic. No one had disillusioned her yet, explained to her that people actually weren’t always born good and sometimes bad shit just happens to people who don’t deserve it. Speaking to her was like talking to a child and Farkle didn’t have the patience for it. 

Growing up in his household, patience was definitely not a virtue.

Yet, he supposed that she wasn’t exactly his enemy anymore.

Something had changed in the last few weeks and even in his infinite stubbornness, Farkle had to admit that he might not exactly hate Riley Matthews anymore. No, he didn’t really mind her most of the time nowadays… Possibly even liked her a little bit here and there.

So, Riley Matthews was not his friend. But she wasn’t his enemy, either. She was something else. Something on the tip of Farkle’s tongue that he couldn’t quite recall but also wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to dwell on long enough to come up with it.

Not that it was a big deal or anything.

Because it wasn’t.

It was Riley fucking Matthews and Farkle could never be friends with someone like her.

That was what was running through Farkle Minkus’ mind, at least, as his gaze followed the subject in question as she crossed the cafeteria with Maya Hart by her side.

“Pretty girl, huh?” Lucas spoke up, elbowing him in the ribs as he also watched the girls take their seats.

Farkle dropped his eyes to the apple in his hand. No way in hell was he going to eat it; it was practically mush, but he didn’t like his best friend’s gloating tone.

He rolled his eyes, “Is that all you see when you look at a girl? How pretty she is?”

Zay, sitting across from the duo, had turned incredibly conspicuously in his chair to see what the fuss was. “Uh, if I’m looking at Maya Hart? Yeah, man.” He took a bite of his own mushy apple, “She’s hot.”

“What else am I exactly supposed to look at? I don’t really know Maya.” Lucas countered, gearing up for a good, old fashion, Minkus-Friar debate.

“First of all, Maya Hart? Wasn’t looking at her.” Farkle shook his head and leaned back in his seat.

“And next, you don’t need to know someone personally to learn about them. Scientists observe.” He repeated, Lucas and Zay echoing along to the last sentence in annoyance from the number of times they’d heard it before.

Farkle pressed on, regardless. “They watch patterns, monitor behaviors, track consistencies. You see a hot blonde but I see someone who never leaves the side of her closest companion, who probably has a harder home life because she always takes extra at lunch, and who fails almost every written test but can answer most questions in a classroom discussion.”

“So basically, she’s loyal, little cynical, and averagely smart.” Sitting up with an eyebrow quirked in triumph, Farkle drummed his apple on the tabletop, “Lastly, and again, Maya Hart?”

“You know what?” Lucas challenged, trying to sound annoyed but the effect was lost to the amusement clear in his expression. “Fuck you, Farkle. Fuck you on two counts because seriously, how do you do that? And also because Maya Hart is hot, even you can’t deny that.”

Farkle chuckled, leaning over the table a bit with a casual shrug, “She’s okay.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Zay threw a hand up, “If you weren’t staring at Maya Hart than who-“

Again the boy spun in his chair and Farkle inwardly groaned, slouching back into his seat. He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to ignore the way the tips of his ears were warming. Why would he be blushing? He had nothing to be embarrassed by.

Zay whirled back round, mouth agape and uneaten apple in plain sight. Charming. Really. 

“Wiley Maffhews?!” He exclaimed through the food.

Lucas cocked his head to the side, taking in the girl beside the ‘blonde beauty’, before turning to a glaring Farkle. “But you hate her?”

“Yeah, every time you see her, you start muttering about pie?” Zay suppled after swallowing.

“Pi.” Farkle corrected, instinctually, before hardening his gaze and giving both his friends scathing looks. “And I’m perfectly aware of how I feel about Riley Matthews, thanks.” He sighed, “She’s my chemistry partner, that’s all. And she may be getting to me… But just a bit!”

“Damn, you must really hate her. Usually you don’t admit when things bug you.” Lucas lightly punched Farkle’s shoulder, glancing between his friend and the brunette giggling across the cafeteria.

Zay nodded, “Yeah, you’re just an asshole about it.”

“Why am I friends with you guys, again?” The genius asked, eyeing both boys.

“See?” Zay gestured to Farkle’s whole being, “Like that!”

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“Matthews.”

“Minkus!”

Okay, did she really have to sound so excited to see him? It’s still just fucking chemistry. Farkle wondered even as something warm blossomed in his chest.

It has been a bad idea to talk to Riley about his parents, he had concluded the day after he’d done so. It was like she thought they had some connection now or something. He’d just been trying to prevent her from meddling in his life, not make her think they were somehow closer than before.

Because they weren’t.

“Guess what?” Riley asked, turning on her stool to face him.

Oh, and they were doing that thing now? Well okay…

“What?” Farkle answered to placate her, keeping his head down and flipping needlessly through his notebook.

Whatever hints he was trying to drop, honestly he wasn’t even sure, Riley definitely did not pick up on them. Her grin only seemed to widen, if possible, as she reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder.

Her grip was tight with enthusiasm and odd but not entirely unwelcome. Pin pricks seemed to rise up on his skin through the sleeve of his t-shirt under the pressure. His gaze came up to rest on her perfectly manicured fingertips, eyebrows drawn in confusion as she rambled on.

“Last night I got an email from Columbia confirming my enrollment! I am officially going to be a student at Columbia University in the fall!” She practically squealed at the end, those manicure nails digging into his arm.

Farkle rolled his eyes, biting back the smile trying to fight its way on to his face, “That’s generally what confirming an enrollment means, Matthews.”

“I know that, silly! I’m just so excited!” Riley snatched her hand back to clap and bounce in her seat. Without permission, a light chuckle slipped past Farkle’s lips as he watched her, practically feeling the excitement radiating from her.

God, she’s adorable.

Wait, what? No! No, she was not. Absolutely not!

Dropping his smile, Farkle turned back to glare at his own wiry handwriting sprawled across the pages of his notebook. As if those were the thoughts that offended him and not the ones still locked in his brain.

“I’m just shocked you managed at Ivy League, Matthews. I always pegged you for a community college or maybe NYU.” He grumbled.

Riley stopped bouncing, hands still raised mid-clap. Her grin, always so infectious and genuine, slipped away to be replaced by a much less contagious but equally genuine look of hurt. 

Slowly, she folded her hands in her lap and turned back to the front of the class right as Mr. Hudson came cruising into the room.

Farkle finally started to relax with her big, brown eyes off him when he heard her hiss, “You are such an asshole.”

“So I’ve been told.” He countered, remaining expressionless.

The reply easily rolled off his tongue, but the guilt continued to roll around in his gut long after chemistry. The hurt on Riley’s face didn’t settle on his shoulder quite the way it normally did. There wasn’t any satisfaction in raining on her parade anymore…

Maybe she really was getting to him.

Farkle thumbed through his copy of The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks as the subway soared through the underground. Music played in the background of his mind from the earbuds he’d popped in after leaving Abigail Adams. Unfortunately, he couldn’t seem to focus on the lyrics anymore than he could the words on the pages.

His eyes burned from tiredness but he’d already found that no amount of blinking would do him any good. This was a weariness deep within his bones. An exhaustion that took time to cultivate, layering and layering until it fit like a second skin.

Calling it quits, he hastily dog-eared the page he’d been on, earning a glare from the bookish girl a few seats down, and shoved the novel back into his bag.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he laid his head back against the cool glass of the window. Light flickered sporadically throughout the cart as the train barreled through the tunnel and Farkle fought to keep his eyes open and his mind awake. Falling asleep on the subway was a basic no-no to any New Yorker, but he was just so tired.

The cell phone in his pocket felt heavier than usual, it’s weight on his leg like a brick. The text he’d gotten as he boarded the subway had equal weight on his mind.

From Stuart Minkus: Your mother will be here when you get home. We’re having a family dinner. Play nice.

Play nice? What the hell did that even mean? 

Farkle wondered and drummed his thumb against his thigh. It wasn’t like he was ever not nice to his mother. He wasn’t even disrespectful, in his own opinion, that just wasn’t how she saw things.

Since the day he’d been born, Farkle had been Stuart Minkus’ son.

Not just biologically, because obviously, but in identity. Sure, his name was ridiculous but he wore it proudly because he shared it with his father, the man who’d built an empire.

His father was someone important who did important things. It was one of the first facts that Farkle knew with complete certainty, even when he was just a toddler teetering around the top floors of Minkus International. 

Sure, his father was almost always absence in his life but that came with being so important. Stuart had things to do, people to see.

Still, Farkle had spent most nights of his childhood staying up until dawn just to say a quick hello. Just to get a glance of what it was that his father gave everything to.

There was a need to please ingrained deep in his system, to earn his father’s approval.

That was not the case with Jennifer and it never had been.

Farkle had a running theory that his mother viewed him as a black hole. Before he was even eight, Farkle had learned that Everything, Farkle! You just ruin everything! and he’d learn it from his mother.

Apparently, she’d been a country club, homecoming queen with a trust fund and bright future all before she’d gotten knocked up on the second date — not that his parents would ever admit that but he could do the basic math of their September wedding and his April arrival.

He’d put the rest of the story together on his own over the years.

Barely ten minutes after the pregnancy test turned positive mom had been disowned by her family and frantically tacking ‘Minkus’ onto her last name with a precious, little parasite multiplying its cells in her uterus… Or at least that’s how she’d put it to one of her housewife friends one afternoon when she’d been drinking wine from a box and forgotten Farkle was coming home early from school to see the ophthalmologist.

Basically, Jennifer Bassett had been a massive star and the birth of her son marked the end of her life cycle. He was the black hole formed from her collapse. His existence had taken not only her life from her, but her potential, her opportunities, the very light in her soul. He’d absorbed them and destroyed them just like a black hole.

Farkle figured that was why the woman seemed to avoid him like the plague and treated him with nothing but resentment when she was around. Maybe she loved him, maybe she didn’t, these days Farkle couldn’t bring himself to care either way.

Love had never been something he’d craved anyway.

It was an illogical fallacy, after all. An unproven hypothesis for those too desperately lonely to be left to their own devices when facing the bleakness of life head on.

Fuck, he was so tired he was getting poetic. Never a good sign.

And he’d closed the door on his mommy and daddy issues long ago, so why was he dwelling on them again now all of the sudden? On the subway, of all places?

Probably because Riley fucking Matthews had come along and knocked on that damn door.

Farkle sat up straight and ran a hand down his face.

Whatever. It didn’t matter, he was going to have to face dinner with his parents either way. Awkward, suffocating, it was like playing a role he knew his mother and father preferred. It was easier having a successful, bright son after all than living in the gravitational pull of a black hole.

It was even worse than Farkle had thought it would be. And that was saying something.

The teenager threw himself down into his bed, groaning as he slowly relaxed. His whole body had been tense for the last hour and a half and even the relief ached. He reached up, tugging at his hair and thinking back over the events of the so-called ‘family dinner’.

It hadn’t been a family dinner, first of all.

Farkle had been bombarded by his father from the moment he’d stepped out of their private elevator and apparently Marty and Helen Coleman were having dinner with them. He’d barely suppressed an eye roll at the news because the Coleman’s were even more insufferable than Riley Matthews on a good day.

They were old Princeton friends of his father’s and Marty was on the board of admissions still. Farkle had been pulled aside by his father the first day he met Marty and told that 'they could use the leg up’ to get him accepted.

It had stung that his father didn’t think he could get into Princeton on merit and capability alone, that he thought Farkle needed connections and favors. But Farkle always did as his father told him. Even if it meant playing nice with a corporate asshole like Marty Coleman and his stuck-up wife.

As they sat to talk about Farkle’s 'promising future’, the boy took note that his mother was nowhere in sight. A part of him sighed in relief while a smaller piece twitched in annoyance. Wasn’t the point of the dinner that, for once, both she and Stuart were home?

Luckily however, Jennifer Bassett Minkus appeared just in time for the merlot. A small detail which didn’t really surprise her husband or son and went unnoticed by their guests. She easily fell into her well-rehearsed role of loving wife and doting mother, holding Stuart’s hand and even reaching over once to ruffle Farkle’s hair.

“Our baby boy sure is exceptional.” She grinned with teeth as white as her lies.

Farkle bit his cheek and faked a smile to the table top, playing with his hands. The tremble from his irritation was barely noticeable, he noted with sarcastic pride.

Helen laughed, one of those big ones that just came off as practiced. “Well, with such great influences, how could he not be?”

Ah, irony.

Farkle and irony were old buddies.

“So, Farkle, you still set on Princeton next fall?” Marty questioned, pushing the broccoli around his plate. Had Farkle tried to have pulled that, he’d have been snapped at to stop playing with his food… or, if his father had noticed, made to name all of the nutrients in each piece.

The teenager nodded, “Of course, sir. Princeton is the dream.”

“Just like his old man,” Stuart said, clapping his son on the back. “Farkle was officially named valedictorian about a week ago and his test scores are impeccable. Kid’s gonna give me a run for my money one of these days.”

And yet he could still 'use the leg up’… Sure.

Anyway, the dinner ended up feeling more like a job interview.

What were his goals?

His strengths? Weaknesses?

Where did he see himself in ten years?

His parents and the Coleman’s did realize he’d only been 18 for two weeks, right? Sure, in fucking middle school he’d thought he’d rule the world but things changed. He had realized quickly how easily someone could topple you from your high horse, how exhausting it was to be on point every second of every day, to never let it all in…

Really, all the dinner had done was remind Farkle Minkus of both just how uncertain his future really was and yet how little choice he had in it.

Farkle shot into an upright position on the edge of his mattress, bouncing one leg and drumming his cell phone against the thigh of the other. Suddenly, he felt incredibly restless and wired. Running a hand down his face, he thought about maybe texting Zay or calling Lucas, maybe even video chatting Smackle.

The problem was that he didn’t really want to do any of those things.

His legs twitched more sporadically and it felt like his skin was crawling.

What he wanted was to move.

Jumping up, he grabbed the jacket from the back of his desk chair and practically flew across the room to his door. Slipping down the hall to the private elevator, Farkle glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the muffled yelling from his parents.

Maybe he should tell him he was leaving; it was what most responsible teenagers did, right?

Without pausing in his stride, Farkle stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the ground floor, not even seeing his mother or father before the doors slide closed.

He pulled at his hair as he moved through the lobby and waved to the doorman in passing before stepped out into the chilly night air of New York. A perk of being further north in the spring, Farkle thought.

He veered to the left, not really having any idea where he wanted to go or really caring as long as it was no longer the top floor of Minkus International.

When had his own home become so suffocating?

His ceiling was a planetarium and his bedroom alone was the size of some small apartments, he had more space than he knew what to do with. 

So, why did it feel like the residence was slowly running out of oxygen, filling more and more with carbon monoxide with each passing? The ratio was all off and it made his head feel dizzy even as it pounded.

Farkle didn’t know how long he was walking before he came to stand before Topanga’s, hands stuffed into his pockets. Somehow, in all of New York, he ended up at the cafe her family owned.

Standing at the railing, he could see the glowing ‘OPEN’ sign and, just behind it, Riley Matthews sitting at the corner booth and tucking cutlery into paper napkins.

She looked…nice and happy, Farkle guessed.

She was smiling warmly and nodding, glancing to the side now and then to say something to her mother behind the counter, that curly brown hair cascading over her shoulder each time. Her younger brother was on one of the cozy chairs, occasionally tossing an opinion over his shoulder to the women. They would both just roll their eyes, Riley’s chocolate ones always looking more amused than annoyed. And even Mr. Matthews was there, sitting across from his daughter and grading papers.

They looked like whatever it was his family always tried to look like.

Clenching the railing until it hurt a little, Farkle felt something cold and bitter in his chest.

Riley just had to have everything, didn’t she? The personality, the looks, the loving family, and the perfect grades. How exactly was he supposed to not hate her?

As he watched, Riley’s eyes flickered over her father’s shoulder and to the window, to him.

Her smile remained, only her eyebrows creasing together. They watched each other for a long moment and Farkle felt something completely different flicker to life in his chest. Something like fire, catching in his lungs and tightening his muscles until they too burned.

Riley’s gaze shifted back down and she slid from the booth, causing Farkle’s stomach to drop.

He was suddenly extremely aware that he’d just been standing there and watching her like a fucking stalker, and only after being a total dick to her just earlier that day. So, now he was going to have to face the music of that snappy voice and ‘resting bitch face’ as Zay deemed it.

Riley stopped to say something to her father, resting a hand on his shoulder, before bouncing over to the door. She grabbed a jacket and pulled it on as she pushed her away outside, stopping to stand a few feet from the door as it slowly shut behind her. She looked up at him, still on the stairs and still painfully gripping the railing.

“You look at little like your detoxing.” Riley said after a long moment of silence.

Farkle cocked his head to the side, “I might be feeling a little on edge.”

Her eyebrows drew closer together and she took another step forward, looking down at her boots, “Is everything okay, Farkle?”

Why did she have to do that? Ask like that? Like she cared? Why, why, why on Earth would she care? She didn’t even want to breathe the same air as him a few weeks ago! He hated her, but so what, because she hated him, too, right?

So, why?

It was infuriating to him that there was no equation or textbook that he could turn to for the answers on Riley Matthews. With little to now options left, he just narrowed his eyes at her and shrugged, collapsing down to sit on the cement steps.

Riley bit the inside of her cheek and paused a second before moving to stand before him at the bottom of the stairs. Her hands were folded in front of her, those ever-smiling rosebud lips downcast to form a steady frown. Her eyes scanned over at him from up close and she shifted on her feet.

“Is…” She seemed to hesitate before powering on, “Is it your parents?”

Farkle’s hung head shot up, hand in his hair, looking bewildered. Maybe he didn’t give Riley Matthews enough credit because apparently she was much more preceptive than he’d ever thought.

It was all the answer Riley needed.

With a nod, she came to stand less than a foot from him, raising her eyebrows expectantly and nudging his knee with her hand, “Well, move over!”

Since he hated her, he probably should have just told her to fuck off but Farkle found himself sliding to make room for the girl instead. She positioned herself directly next to him on the step, their shoulders brushing from the narrowness of the railings.

Clapping her hands together, Riley turned her head to him and gave him a look, “Are we really going to do this who uncomfortable silence thing again? Just talk, Minkus! I’m only trying to help!”

“Yeah, but, why?” He asked before he could stop himself. He had to know, as a scientist he could only seek answers to life’s mysteries.

“What do you mean ‘why’?” She asked, resting her elbows on her knees and leaning forward.

“Well, Matthews, I thought I was ‘such an asshole’.”

The corners of Riley’s mouth flickered and she bit her lip, shaking her head, “And you are. But luckily for you, I am not.”

Farkle’s finally let his eyes roamed over her as she examined her hands closely.

Her every edge looked so soft, like a glow encased her and made it impossible for him to sharpen his focus when viewing her so directly. Like the sun… or maybe a quasar, what the scientific community agreed was the brightest point of light in the known universe.

“No, you’re not.” The second he said it, he wanted to club himself over the head.

Riley froze at his words.

What the utter fuck is wrong with you, Minkus?

He silently prayed to the god he didn’t believe in that she would just let it slip, let it go. He should have known better, though, because Riley Matthews didn’t let things go. She poked and prodded, meddled and schemed.

Slowly, she turned her head to him and leaned in closer, something Farkle would have thought impossible a moment before with how tightly they were already packed. But suddenly he couldn’t think at all because, goddamn, the girl was practically just inches from him and staring right into his soul, as if she truly believed he had one.

“Have you ever read Robert Frost?” Riley asked in a hushed tone, her open gaze flickering over his face before settling on his electric eyes. “Fire and Ice?”

Numbly, he shook his head, recalling somewhere in the back of his mind the cool, icy hatred he’d been encased in at seeing Riley with her perfect life and family and how quickly he’d thawed just under weight of her warm scrutiny.

She licked her lips and Farkle couldn’t help but just glance, just flicker, down to her mouth.

For some reason, the sight made it hard to swallow as he forced himself back to her eyes.

“Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire,” She paused and maybe he was crazy but he thought she might have glanced down at his own lips before continuing, “I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice,”

Riley then wrenched her gaze from him, looking out at the little patio in front of Topanga’s while still whispering, only quicker, and playing with her hands, “I think I know enough of hate to say that for destruction ice is also great and would suffice.”

Smiling a little, she stood and turned to face him. Her arms crossed over her chest, one hand moving up to tuck her hair behind her ear as she watched her shuffling feet, “Maybe that’ll help you understand why, Farkle.”

And then Riley turned and slipped back inside of Topanga’s without another word to him.

Farkle followed her movements, watching as she seemed to melt right back into her family with ease and feeling even more restless and wired than he had when he’d set out.

Okay, wow! Like, soooo much sexual tension and I, like, wasn’t even planning on that! Like, holy shit! Fire and Ice is my favorite Robert Frost and I thought it was very appropriate for this pair… In this story, I’ve kind of established science as Farkle’s things, but english and literature is definitely Riley’s. I always head-canon Riley as a writer, to be honest, because of the Girl Meets 1961 and Rosie McGee being one.

[ratatatastic]

do you write fic on ao3?

unfortunately for everyone involved i do!

[ratatatastic]

lmaoooo maffhew wanting the knot immediately and having to wait for sasha to catch up with that is so deeply funny like. this omega is not subtle and you’re not a stupid alpha babe! can only imagine what benny has to say to maffhew about it once he catches on and stops banging his head against a wall

idiots to lovers is always great but especially when its two people who would be hitched with 10 kids by now if they stopped being dumb for a single second like its that easy and yet...

to me they very much fall around the same time (infatuation at first scent if you will) just that sasha takes some time to get there not because he's dumb (okay he's a little dumb) but in the sense that its like "this person is very interested in me, i can see and recognise that but theres so much cognitive dissonance in my brain right now between knowing that intrinsically and finding that hard to believe so i unintentionally play dumb because obviously i'm reading too much into things it cant be me they're interested in haha that'd crazy but they're being awfully touchy and flirty with me wow"

but also it takes two to tango and we have to acknowledge that and this is when i would love to bring up the ways in which this man decides is the best way to go about that because he is a catholic school girlie... there's so much hilarity to be had here especially because his flirting is very uh how you say... a little ass backwards if you will especially considering dynamics

"I make it a point to keep the door closed when we're alone in a room together! That's basically a clear invitation that I'm down to fuck!!! Im basically asking to be ragdolled on his knot!!!"

and Benny just pinches the bridge of his nose like "I don't know how to explain to you in a way you'll understand that not everyone went to Catholic school."

But saying that Sasha does side-eye the door knob heavily when Maffhew goes over to close it the first time and he starts sweating like he just got dragged into a game of 7 Minutes in Heaven he did not sign up for and he's 13 again and oh god he got paired with a really cute girl, and he hasn't even had his first real kiss yet and-

And then absolutely nothing happens because Maffhew is just waiting with a polite expectant smile (because his work here is done, he did the heavy lifting know it's Sasha's turn) and this is when Sasha's dynamic classes training kicks in and he basically scolds himself for even assuming in the first place because this is clearly a show of trust (correct) not an invitation for extra circular activities (incorrect buzzer noise) and it basically becomes "This Omega really trusts me, I'm honoured especially as Pack Leader that I'm able to be so accepted into such a private space with the inherent knowledge that I will not encroach their boundaries whatsoever because consent is verbal, this is not in any way an invitation to take advantage of them this is deep platonic trust I will guard with my life :]"

and if you listen closely you can hear the lovely sounds of Maffhew bashing his head into a wall about how much of a gentleman Sasha is but also COME ONNNNNN... you know... once Maffhew realises what's happening which (looks at my watch) is not due for another few months really

Battle of wills: unstoppable force (maffhews catholic school understanding of dynamic interactions) vs immovable object (overseas alpha cotillion classes)

And if you think it's an Oh! An overseas dynamic thing! It's not. The Euros are watching the horrible car crash in front of them and doing absolutely nothing about it because it's none of their business, but they will stare at it... maybe judge it a bit but definitely are observing from the tall grass.

and I'm also not saying that luosty lundy forsy and bobby have a current running bet of how long it'll take for maffhew to break sasha in but i'm also not not saying that... luosty goaded lundy in the midst of a gossip session ("It has to be 3 months, right?) forsy happened to be around so lundy turned to him for advice ("7 months.") and maybeeee bobby overheard from all the way over from his stall and puts in his two cents for what it's worth ("6. Captain nice but not that nice. Very impatient." "So 3!" "No. Impatience makes him double the time, and wait longer. 6 months.") (lundy finally settles on a good 5 months because he's indecisive)

And Sasha does eventually pick up everything maffhew is throwing down... eventually... and when he does it becomes more so I want to court this omega the way they deserve I will take this slow and romance them sweetly :) *smash cut to maffhew caterwauling like a cat in heat*

but also once again its not like maffhew is helping sasha in any way this is idiot4idiot and benny would like to enjoy the car crash with the euros but unfortunately that's his soulmate, thats his bestie, his littermate from birth who has been weaned on the same teat as they climbed over each other to get to it, the first girl you kissed in your childhood bedroom because somehow you started play fighting on the bed because she was like i could totally pin you down easy and then she does and you always noticed how beautiful she was but shes even more gorgeous when she's pinning your wrists to your hannnah montana duvet you promised yourself youd changed out before she came over but you forget and well she teased you about it and you cant help but giggle about how perfect this all is and it seems that the natural conclusion to this is to taste the strawberry lipgloss of her lips because whats a kiss between besties huh its tacky and sticky and it tastes like summer and just other apt metaphors to put here about the inherent -isms of their relationship that i nearly cant put to words properly other than girls having fun (they are fucking)

and well anyways benny is watching and he has a lot of things to say about how its been proceeding so far

"You should really use your words."

"I am!"

"Right because smelling like a fucking perfume shop in the middle of October is using your words."

"This usually works with most Alphas okay!"

"Sasha isn't most Alphas."

"Tell me about it." Matthew grouses before he peeks over to Sam, looking up from beneath his eyelashes—the exact way he knows both endears him to Sam but also absolutely miffs him all the same, "Worked on you, didn't it?"

"Oh, is that what we're doing right now? We're calling getting a lapful of a preening O in preheat in the middle of a roadie a normal way to go about these things."

"It worked didn't it?" Matthew reiterates.

"It would work better if you use—"

"Okay! Alright!! I get it!!!" He does not.

like benny here is unfortunately an active listening participant in the going ons of the fuckery if not because hes involved by proxy because of maffhew because who else will hold his hair back as he calls him a dumb bitch you know