#implied bonvid

[forestwater87]

(whispers seductively) Talk to me about a high school Gwenvid AU

OH BOY OH BOY OH BOY

So I was initially saving this to talk all about how in high school David was the sunny B-student who founded Nature Club and was friends almost exclusively with girls because guys treated him kinda badly, and how Gwen was the high-schooler-pretending-she-likes-coffee straight-A-but-not-valedictorian student who was in virtually all the clubs – especially yearbook, definitely yearbook – but didn’t really have any friends, and how maybe they met because they were the only ones willing to do some shit task for the school (her because it’d look good on her applications, him out of an overwhelming desire to help out) and are forced to hang out and grow closer and fall in love and all that doofy stuff.

And I do still love all of that.

But.

BUT.

Then my discord starting talking about a version of teenage David (heavily based on this picture) where he went through a punk phase, and … my fingers slipped, guys.

(Parts of this were heavily influenced by chats with @ciphernetics​. And I think calling Cute Waitress Clementine was originally the invention of @mysterysmiley​, but I’m not entirely positive? I just know I didn’t come up with it and I’m happy to credit whoever did. Oh, and this characterization of Jasper is, of course, largely the creation of the marvelous @hopefullypessimistic84​)

Hufflepunk

Being unconditionally polite, kind, and compassionate in a society that values and finds “deeper meaning” in aloofness and cynicism is subversive and thus punk

“Christ.” Gwen checks her watch and stands up on the balls of her feet, rolling her neck to loosen the tension in her shoulders. She’s positive Fred had told her the Crafts Club meets at 4:30 … has she gotten the location wrong?

Five minutes, she tells herself, glancing around the empty classroom as though people will spontaneously burst up from the tiled floor. She still has to get a couple pictures of lacrosse practice before the high school talent show begins — she wishes she hadn’t volunteered to cover the event, but she owes the head of the school newspaper a favor — and somewhere in there she’s supposed to fit five pages of extra-credit math homework!

She doesn’t have time to hang around.

Worst-case scenario, we just pretend there isn’t a Crafts Club. Not like anyone’s going to complain. Nobody she knows is in it, and Gwen knows almost everyone (not well, but she doesn’t have time to know people well. “Getting to know people” isn’t something she’s ever been very good at, anyway).

She’s just about to leave the stifling-silent classroom when the door flies open, smacking into the wall and bouncing off of it with a noise that makes her flinch. She sees boots, heavy and industrial and grass-stained, then immediately ducks her head and pretends to be deeply engrossed in her phone. Like someone who has a personal life or something.

“Y’know, one’a these days you’re gonna give someone a concussion doing that.”

“Oh, don’t be silly! No one stands that close to a door that swings in!” The second voice is light, laughing — vaguely familiar in a way she can’t place.

“It’s your funeral, string bean. But don’t expect Bonquisha to bail you out if you tick off someone bigger than you.”

There’s a snort, loud and (she suspects) intentionally disgusting. “So, everyone.”

“I don’t think that’s — um.” The footsteps stop suddenly, as do the voices. “Are we in the right room?”

Figuring she can’t pretend to text any longer, Gwen glances up with an expression she hopes reads “polite disinterest” and fears comes off more like “suffering from minor digestive discomfort.” She holds up the camera looped around her neck, wishing — not for the first time — that they were just allowed to use their phones instead of the crappy Kodaks provided by the school. “Uh, hi. I’m —”

RAPRAPRAP.

They all glance over at the window, one of the students, a boy with a red hoodie that hides most of his face, rushing over to open it and let a brightly-colored teenager vault inside.

“— from the … yearbook committee.” She’s more than a little thrown off by the commotion, but tries to pull herself together. “We’re going around —”

“The classrooms have doors, genius,” the guy in the hoodie says, slamming the window shut. “New thing they’re trying out these days.”

“Where’s the fun in that? The flair?”

“— taking photos of all the clubs —”

“You and your goddamn flair, Jesus.”

“— for the, you know … yearbook.” She keeps her attention focused on the only one who’s addressed her so far, the one she recognizes now from one of her science classes. Something with a D … “You guys are the Crafts Club?”

(She tries to keep the disbelief out of her voice.)

(She’s pretty sure she fails.)

“Well …” D-something glances at his friends — the hoodie boy, with green-rimmed eyes and artful stubble that must’ve taken weeks; the one with flair, who is dressed in and pierced with and dyed so many colors he’s almost hard to look at; and the only girl, someone she remembers being slightly terrified of in gym a few years ago because she throws like she’s trying to set the air on fire — and turns back to her with a shrug and a bashful grin, as if he knows how ridiculous they look together. “Yeah! That’s us.”

Sure.

Why the hell not?

“You’re Gwen, right? Gwen Santos?” He watches with patient interest as she nods, then steps forward, extending a hand (shaking up the sleeve of his jacket, which hangs from his skinny frame). “We’re in Chemistry together, but you probably don’t remember me! She usually sits in the front,” he adds to the others, like that explains everything. “I’m David.”

David, right.

David with the short red mohawk and the little rings marching up the shell of his ear and the spiked leather jackets and the tight black jeans and the giant, grass-stained, door-kicking-in boots that must weigh half as much as he does. David with the insightful questions and the eager-to-help attitude and the tendency to make things explode and no one can tell if it’s an accident or not. David, who was forced to sit in the front for three days for fiddling with the lab equipment before the teacher got tired of his ceaseless humming and banished him to the back of the room again.

Gwen takes his hand, feeling a little like she’s dreaming. There’s a greyscale rose on his hand, beautiful and intricate. “Is this real?” she asks, twisting his hand to watch the thorny stem snake around his wrist.

David tugs his hand away with an embarrassed chuckle. “No, I can’t afford that,” he says, glancing over his shoulder and jerking his chin toward the kid with the neon clothes. “Jasper’s a great artist, though!”

Jasper tilts his head at them, blue-tipped blond waves falling over his eyes, and gives her a lopsided grin. “All you need is a long study hall and a lot of boredom,” he says with a shrug. “And you can’t mind getting absolutely fucked up on Sharpie fumes.”

The girl — Bonquisha, that’s right — sets her backpack down and flicks one of Jasper’s shoes (the pink one. The other is a completely different style, Converse instead of a black knee-high heeled boot (how does he walk?) with bright orange laces). “Like anyone thinks you mind that, Ghost.”

“Ghost?” Gwen knows she really should just shut up and take the pictures, because even if her schedule wasn’t beyond full there’s no way she’s hanging out voluntarily with these guys and risk coming home reeking of smoke, but … she’s curious.

Fuck it, isn’t that a good enough reason?

“Because I’m a ninja,” he intones, leaning forward eagerly. “So sneaky I can —” he snaps, then wiggles his fingers, “— vanish into thin air.”

She frowns. “So … why don’t they call you Ninja?”

Jasper pauses, looking thoughtful, but the one in the hoodie jumps in before he can answer: “Because he’s a clumsy idiot who should’ve died, like, twenty times before we started high school. We think he has to already be dead to —”

“To pull off those sick stunts?” Jasper says this with a bright, cheesy grin; instead of finishing his sentence, the other kid drops his head in one hand and sighs deeply. “Come on, Kev; you don’t like my sweet, radical Parkour moves?”

“I don’t like you.”

“Come on, guys, be nice,” David pleads, shoving his hands in his back pockets and rocking onto his heels. “We have company.”

We have company — like they’re a family and she’s some sort of special guest. Gwen bites her lip to keep from smiling and fiddles with her lens cap.

“So I guess there’s no field trip today, huh?” Bonquisha says, glancing over at Gwen before giving David a meaningful look.

“Oh, I don’t know about that! We’ll just have to see. It’s fine, though,” he adds with a hasty look at Gwen, like he’s nervous he hurt her feelings, “we have tons of stuff we can work on here!” He fumbles in his bag, then looks up questioningly. “So should we pose, or are you just …”

She nods, snapping back to herself. “Uh … nah, just do your thing and I’ll take a couple photos. Then I’ll leave you guys alone.” As they all pull out varying-sized knitting needles and colorful yarn, she takes a couple steps back, trying to figure out where the cheap fluorescent lighting is best. “Where’s your faculty advisor?” she asks.

Kevin and Jasper both groan and roll their eyes, but David glows, straightening up. “Oh, Mr. Campbell! He’s … busy, lately, and hasn’t had a ton of time to stop by for our meetings.”

“Which is why we picked him,” Kevin mutters under his breath, ignoring the reproving frown David shoots his way.

“But he’s very supportive of our crafts, and I make sure to email him pictures of our projects!”

Mr. Campbell was technically the superintendent of the school, but he was usually off doing … who knew? Superintendent stuff, probably. Gwen is faintly impressed that they managed to nail the support of someone so important; it’s probably why they can get away with meeting after the school closes, without supervision, to … knit.

Apparently.

“What’re you doing?” she asks, half to make conversation and half out of genuine curiosity. She circles to take a few more pictures, lingering in a spot where David’s earrings flash bright under the ceiling lights and Bonquisha’s hair — the side that isn’t shaved, that is, and falls in long dark dreads interwoven with red sparkling tinsel — catches the setting sun.

The club members are each so captivating, it’s hard to remember she’s actually supposed to be photographing what they’re doing.

David holds his up for her to see: a complex tangle of braided pink, blue, and purple yarn. “We’re making beards! Well — most of us are.”

“Fuck you, I wanna make Cthulhu,” Jasper muttered, twining yellow thread around his crochet hook. Other tentacles in pastel colors fall in a general beard shape, spread across his lap.

None of the beards are actually beard-colored; she thinks of questioning it, but decides not to. After all, it’s not like any of them have natural-colored hair anyway. “What for?”

“Just for fun!” David chirps quickly.

“No reason,” Jasper adds at the same time.

“Fake IDs,” Kevin says, talking over the others.

They’re all quiet for a moment. “So … like a costume?” Gwen finally asks.

“Yes! Halloween!” “For Comic-Con.” “To buy booze.”

Bonquisha rolls her eyes and keeps knitting. “They’re decorations.”

Gwen falls silent, watching them work. The colors — remind her of something, she doesn’t know what. David’s epic beard that reminds her of Lord of the Rings; Jasper’s in pale shades of yellow, pink, and blue; Kevin’s looks like every color of the rainbow, and Bonquisha’s alternates between light blue, pink, and white.

Four beards … “Oh my god, are you’re gonna put these on those new statues?” Sleepy Peak, in a rousing act of patriotism, had installed four giant gold-looking statues in front of the Town Hall that represented the founding fathers of the town. In a completely-unrelated act of equal patriotism, the city also recently voted not to pass a bill prohibiting employer discrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity. “They’re gonna get taken down.”

David’s blushing pinker than the yarn twined around his fingers, but he gives her a cheeky smile. “Not before people take pictures.”

“It’s more about the statement,” Jasper says, reaching for the pink ball of yarn. “Davey’s all about making statements.”

“Your statements are gonna get moldy.”

Kevin grins up at Gwen. “I thought we should just drive Bon’s truck into the ugly fucking things, but they voted me down.”

“Not me,” Jasper says, raising one hand without looking up. “I was all for it.”

Bonquisha glares at them both. “I’m not paying for that shit!”

“Your car’s practically a monster truck, it’d be fine!”

David watches his friends argue with a small, slightly tired smile, then turns back to Gwen. She takes a seat at the desk next to him and asks, “So, why don’t you? Do more … destructive shit, I mean. Something that’ll last longer than a couple days.”

“Oh god,” Jasper moans dramatically, abandoning his conversation with Bon and Kevin. “I know you’re new, but one rule? Please, please don’t get him started. Ever. On anything.”

“Hey, it’s an excellent question!” David protests, and if he was standing she has the distinct impression his hands would be on his hips. “Most people don’t understand the difference between anarchy and —”

He’s drowned out by a chorus of groans and gives up, shaking his head and returning to his knitting.

“It’s about inspiring thought, not fear,” he murmurs. “Mindless violence doesn’t do anyone any good.” She has the impression he wants to say more and is deliberately holding his tongue.

“No kidding?” Sometime, she thinks, she’d like to hear more about his philosophy. It’s interesting.

“So we’re all finished over here,” Kevin says loudly, jolting David and Gwen from their conversation. “If you guys are finally done flirting, can we go on a field trip?”

Flushing, he ties off the end of his beard and shoves it and his knitting supplies back into his bag. “You’re so immature,” he hisses, which makes the others snicker. 

(Gwen bites back her own laughter; for a kid in chains and spikes, David’s … kind of a grandma.)

“What’s the field trip?” she asks, and then immediately wishes she could kick herself, because that sounds like she’s inviting herself along, which of course she doesn’t want to do — she’s already late to photograph the lacrosse team and there’s no way she can miss the talent show tonight, not to mention that she really doesn’t need to get in trouble and these guys have trouble written all over them (a gentle, kind of ill-thought-out sort of trouble, but trouble nonetheless) — and of course they wouldn’t want her along — she’s awkward and unlikable and she makes people feel uncomfortable, she knows that, with her weird questions and her infrequent eye contact and her inability to know whether she’s talking too much or too little but it’s never the right amount or about the right things so how could she just force herself into their —

“First we gotta water our graffiti, then we’ll hit the bleachers.” When she just stares at him in baffled silence, Kevin rolls his eyes and gestures for her to follow them. “Come on, but put the camera away. This won’t look good in the yearbook.”

She pauses — was she really being invited along? Did she even want to be? — and Bonquisha wraps an arm around her shoulders. “Do you ever smile, Gwen? Or is this whole gloomy-girl thing part of your look?”

She isn’t sure if she should be insulted, but there’s a kind a snarky amiability these people all share that’s … much more comfortable than any type of friendship she’s tried to fit herself into before. “I don’t … really have a look,” she admits, letting herself be pulled down the hallway toward the school’s back doors.

Bon hums thoughtfully. “No kidding. Eh, whatever,” she squeezes Gwen’s shoulders, “neither does Kevin, and we still let him hang around.”

“I have a great look!”

“‘Hey kids, wanna buy some shit?’ isn’t a look, Kev.”

“It’s better than yours, Jasp!”

For the first time since she met the Crafts Club — for the first time in far longer, if she’s being honest — Gwen allows herself to laugh.

It feels pretty good.

“So every few days we just —” David spritzes wall with his water bottle, beaming, “— and sometimes on weekends I come by to paint over the design!”

Gwen eyes the wall skeptically; so far there’s no sign of the moss they assure her has been painted onto the school’s sullen red brick in the words “campe diem” (which she doesn’t think is real Latin). “And it’s actually gonna work?”

“Oh, sure,” Jasper says, nodding sagely. “One-hundred-percent success rate, just like all DIY projects from the internet.”

“Dave has a green thumb,” Bonquisha assures her. “I think he’ll make it work.”

Jasper leans into David, bumping shoulders and waggling his eyebrows. “Got more than a green thumb, if ya know what I’m saying.” 

There’s a moment of confused silence. “So … like, an STD?” Kevin finally says. “Or like, he was bitten by a radioactive broccoli on the dick and —”

“Okay!” David snaps pointedly, not-very-gently shoving Kevin’s backpack. “Let’s go to the bleachers right now!”

“What happens at the bleachers?” Gwen asks, feeling very innocent and very stupid with every question.

David’s expression switches from exasperated to sunny in a second. “Oh, right! Well, we can’t decorate the statues until later tonight. And Kevin has … another job. So we’re killing some time.”

“Yeah, speaking of,” Kevin interrupts, turning to Gwen, “got any cash on you? Because this shit ain’t cheap.”

David rolls his eyes. “Nice tact.”

“Hey, you guys n’ gals don’t love me for my tact.”

“I’ll cover her, don’t worry about it.” He grins at her. “And Jasper’s the DD tonight —”

“And just fucking thrilled about it.”

“— so you don’t have to worry about anyone driving while impaired!”

Gwen’s heard stories about the idiots who get stoned under the bleachers. She just never thought she’d be quite so tempted to be one of those idiots. “I …” she begins, sighing. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but I promised I’d —”

David jumps in, waving his hands almost frantically. “No, of course not! Don’t worry — of course you don’t want — that’s not like the only thing we do, so if you wanted … another time, maybe … or you and I and Jasper could maybe go for a walk or —”

“No, seriously, I have to …” She trails off, spotting a familiar pink ponytail in the throng of students lazily milling around the track. “Hold on.” Sprinting up to Clementine, Gwen grabs her shoulder a little rougher than intended. (Why was she so damn bad at this?) “Hey, you going to the talent show tonight?”

Clementine beams. “Sure am! You’ll be there, right?”

“Actually …” Gwen bites her lip and takes a deep breath. “Any chance I could get you to take some pictures for the newspaper? Just like, two or three, please, something came up.” She holds up the camera and tries to smile as winningly as possible.

She tilts her head to the side, pretty green eyes narrowing doubtfully. “I’m not sure, darlin. You know I’d love to help, but I’m no photographer.”

“You kinda owe me, Clem.” Gwen hates pulling these strings, but basically everyone in every school club owes her something for something; she’s the unofficial go-to girl when anyone needs a quick replacement. (It’s not like she’s ever busy — most of the time.) “Besides, it’ll be like a fun thing for you and Fred to do, right?”

Clementine sighs, her expression softening. “Sure, Gwennie.” (Gwen tries not to flinch at the nickname.) “Y’all have a good time with whatever you’re doing, ya hear?” She can tell from Clementine’s tone of voice that she thinks Gwen’s blowing this off for a date.

And … she’s kinda surprised she doesn’t mind her thinking that. “I’ll do my best,” she says, tugging the camera from around her neck and handing it over. “Oh, and can you take some pictures of lacrosse practice while you’re at it okay thanks!”

She takes off before Clementine can answer, eyes scanning the schoolyard for her flock of showy birds.

Okay, not hers. She doesn’t have any claim to them.

But she wonders if, maybe, they’ll eventually want to make a claim to her.

“So,” Jasper says conversationally, in the tone that David knows means trouble, “didn’t occur to you that maybe one of the most notoriously straightlaced kids in the school might not be super into our devious ganja lifestyle, huh?”

“She said she’ll be back,” David mutters; she hadn’t exactly said that, but what else would “hold on” mean? What were they holding on for, anyway?

They’re quiet for a moment, letting Bon and Kevin wander over to another group of people. David thinks for a second that Jasper might for once let something go.

“You’ve been in love with her for months and you seriously never thought she doesn’t smoke? Not even once?”

“Shhhh!” He shoves Jasper’s shoulder, looking around to make sure no one heard. “Stop it!”

Jasper snickers, shaking his head. “She sits in the front of the classroom, Davey.”

Like David doesn’t know that. Like he hasn’t spent the entire school year carefully memorizing the back of her head, and wondering what kind of thoughts lived inside it. “She laughed,” he says miserably, drawing in on himself. “She asked questions.”

His expression softens, and he shifts a little closer. “I know. And I bet she’ll be back in a couple minutes.” Keeping his eyes turned toward Bonquisha and Kevin, Jasper lets his fingers brush the backs of David’s lightly, almost catching his hand but not quite.

David tries not to blush and feels his face heat up anyway. “There are people here,” he whines, hating fact that he’s whining. “We’ll …” get in trouble sounds ridiculous, but it’s the first thing that pops into his head.

Not that Sleepy Peak is all that bad for his friends, not really. They’ve just — had some issues, before. Issues that required him to be a lot less pacifist than he liked. And it scared him, and it still scares him a little. Not that he can’t take care of himself, they all can, but it’s still … unpleasant.

Jasper gives him a small, bitter smile. “Plus we wouldn’t want the pretty new girl to think we’re a couple fags, huh?”

“Come on, Jasp, it’s not like that.”

(It’s … a little like that. He hates himself for it, but there’s a tiny bit of him that’s worried Gwen might get … the wrong idea, is all. And Jasper’s dirty jokes and little touches and gentle knowing looks are all very suggestive of a wrong idea.)

“If it helps, you’ve got a really shitty poker face, so unless she’s totally oblivious she’s gonna figure out you’re crazy about her anyway.” He gives David a sly grin and lets their hands brush again. “And she saw you holding a giant Viking beard bi flag, so the secret might already be kinda out.”

David shoots him a look that’s supposed to be a lot sterner than it is, but he can’t keep his lips from wanting to twitch upwards. That’s just what happens when he looks at Jasper. “That doesn’t mean anything! Bon made a trans beard, so you can’t assume —”

Jasper interrupts him with a laugh, shaking his head. “Still, if she’s gonna be hanging around, she’s going to learn all your secrets,” he teases, wiggling his fingers ominously. “Like the fact that you’re a filthy criminal who vandalizes public property while high on the devil’s lettuce!”

“She already knows that, Jasp.”

“Oh. Right.” They stand quietly for a few minutes, watching the various sports practices wrap up and the players meander back toward the school. “It worked out all right, Davey. With Bon, I mean. It can work again.”

He shakes his head. He can’t do that again. Yeah, it worked out in the end and the three of them escaped the breakup with their friendship intact, but … “I need someone who likes you, too.”

“And who says she won’t? I’m charming and lovable and have an amazing fashion sense.” When David rolls his eyes — something he can only do without guilt at Jasper — he chuckles and bumps their shoulders together. “Hey, I bagged you.”

“Yeah. You did.” He glances up and sees Gwen hurrying back in their direction; on a sudden, foolish impulse he reaches over and links his fingers through Jasper’s, shifting closer so it’s not immediately visible to anyone people-watching.

He glances down, eyebrows raising. “You sure? You don’t have to.”

“I’m sure.”

He drops his voice as she gets closer, speaking quickly. “If you chicken out, I’ll just mercilessly hit on her.”

David isn’t sure if that’s reassurance, a threat, or just an attempt to make him smile. 

Whatever it is, it works.

“Sorry about that,” she says, brushing away a strand of hair that escaped her ponytail. She smiles at them both, a little shy but genuine and achingly beautiful. “I’m all yours now, though.”

Jasper realizes quickly that David isn’t really capable of words at the moment and flashes her his sunniest grin. “Don’t sign up for anything you can’t handle,” he jokes, reaching out with his free hand and taking hers. (David suppresses a gasp with effort; it never fails to shock him how brave his boyfriend is, how confident that whatever he does will work out somehow, for no other reason than that he wants it to.)

Gwen looks surprised for a second, and when she sees them holding hands it turns slightly to confusion. But then her eyes meet David’s and he can almost see the moment she decides to just roll with it. “Hey, I’m pretty brave,” she shoots back, turning her attention back to Jasper. “You might not know this, but I’m apparently going to break the law today.”

He mock-gasps. “I’m not sure we can keep you around! You’ll tarnish our innocence.”

David falls back, letting his hand slip through Jasper’s until only their fingertips are touching. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be part of the conversation, but there’s something nice about standing here in the honeyed yellow sunset, letting their voices wash around him like the breeze. Cozy, somehow.

“Hey!” Bonquisha calls, snagging Kevin by the hood and dragging him toward them. “You guys bringing Gloomy along, or what?”

The three of them share a look, and Gwen’s lips twist into a smirk. “That’s an unfortunate nickname.”

“String Bean and Ghost would argue there are worse ones,” Jasper replies dryly, and she lets out a surprised laugh, covering her mouth and blushing. “Oh, she’s adorable,” he says in a very loud stage whisper, leaning in toward David. “Can we keep her?”

“Stop!” she says, tugging her hand from his. She’s — she’s giggling, when before in class he’s hardly even seen her smile, and she hasn’t even started smoking yet, David’s pretty sure this is just the effect Jasper has on people but seeing it firsthand makes him think he might faint.

Can we keep her?

David tightens his hand around Jasper’s and shifts in a little closer — and trusts that he knows the answer is a resounding Yes.