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Vying For Your Affection	By : Zarafla_Kirtan-Pherrin Category: +1 through F > An Extremely Goofy Movie Views: 1687 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to An Extremely Goofy Movie or Rock&Rule, nor do I profit from this. Enjoy! If you don't like it, sod off! :D

Chapter List
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Vying For Your Affection-
Paired Couple: Bradley UppercrustXMax GoofXOmar Le Mat/SLASH!/Lemon
A/N: All characters within belong to their rightful owners. Sorry for the long awaited update. My computer was going through some major repairs. Enjoy!
Max made it back to his dorm that morning, feeling drained and ready to crawl under the covers. Although he had slept a little bit at the Gamma House, Bradley had woken him up and sent him on his way when the world took a faint, light blue glow of early morning mist in November. Looking around, Max saw the half-buried digital clock read 5:12 AM under a pair of black boxers on his nightstand. He grunted, not liking that he would have to be ready to go to his other classes in about two hours.
Rubbing the heel of his palms into his eyes, he sat down on the edge of the bottom bunk bed (the top was Bobby's) and lazily kicked off his sneakers as he listened to the contented snores of his room mates, envying that they would have a healthy ten hours of sleep to work off of compared to his meager four. Without stripping off his pants, shirt, and jacket, he curled up into bed, too tired to care.
It felt as if five minutes had passed by when the alarm clock blared the song “Stand Out”, by Powerline, into Max's ears. Someone-he believed it to be Bobby-clicked the snooze button on the clock and rolled back over to sleep. Across the room, he heard PJ sit up in his bed and yawn.
“C'mon, Max. It's time to get up.” PJ said aloud, shaking his friend awake. “You too, Bobby.” He said to the sleeping form on the top bunk.
“What time is it?” Queried the irritated Sophomore with the orange mohawk. “It can't be a quarter past six, at least.”
“It's almost seven-twenty, dude.” Max answered, barely mumbling the words past the pillow that he crushed underneath his head and partly against his face.

“Well, damn it then!”
“Wake up, Max. We have to get ready.”
“I'll be up in a minute, Peej.” Max snuggled into his worn bed, making no effort to do as he said he would. The heavy blanket was torn off, decreasing the temperature only slightly.
“Jeez, dude, is it that cold? Why are you sleeping with your jacket on?” Bobby demanded.
“Well... it is cold.”
“It's about seventy degrees in here, man.”
Max sat up, yawning. “I went for a walk last night. What's it to you?”
“Last night? When?”
“About midnight. Maybe a little earlier.”
“Couldn't sleep?” PJ asked.
“...Yea.”
“That's not like you, bro.” Bobby said with slight concern as he slipped on a white t-shirt. “You usually are the first or second one to pass out. I'm the one usually staying up for an hour later, playing video games or something, before I turn in.”
“I dunno. I just felt like getting fresh air.” Max shrugged, kicking off his dirty jeans and throwing on a new pair.
Bobby and PJ exchanged looks. Although they wouldn't admit to it, they knew that it had to have been for more than fresh air. The two had discussed about it for four days now. Every night, either one or the other would wake up momentarily to go to the bathroom or get a drink of water, only to discover that Max was missing from his bed.
Something was up with their best friend and it worried them that he wouldn't mention what was really going on.
~/~/~/~/~/
He sat in the back row of the classroom, leaning back casually, as he idly spun his pencil between his fingers. Several girls passing his desk batted their eyes and said hello to him this very dreary Tuesday afternoon. It looked like it was going to rain later in the day...
He ran a hand through his meticulously kept brunette locks, but stopped his hand midway through the strands when he spotted Maximilian Goof among the thinning crowd that made its way into the classroom. He gave a small smirk to the unknowing Sophomore, his eyes glittering with a mirth that no one would notice. To anyone else, his smile resembled a sneer. Of course, his slightly good mood was altered when Tank took a seat next to him, accidentally nudging into him and knocking a book onto the floor.
“Sorry, Bradley.” He mumbled meekly, getting back up from his seat to retrieve the book.
A sigh of impatience. “It's quite alright, Tank.”
As the big Senior straightened up, the heavy book in one hand, he looked over at the door down below. “Hey, Bradley! Take a look at the fresh meat that joined our class!”
Bradley looked down from his seat, spying a guy in a black wifebeater, beat up jeans, second-hand tennis shoes, and long, shaggy red hair walking into class. An acoustic was strapped to his back.
As soon as everyone took a seat, the fifty-two year old Professor at the front of the room cleared his throat and said, “Good afternoon, students! Now, before we can begin the lecture, I'd like to introduce a new member of our campus. His name is Omar Le Mat. He's from Quebec, Canada, and had recently attended Rockland University just before he transferred here yesterday. Please do make him feel welcome.” He directed the red head to a seat three rows ahead of Bradley...
...and two seats away from Max.
The pencil broke in his hand.
~/~/~/~/~/~/
Max lifted an eyebrow in curiosity, but didn't make a comment to PJ, who sat next to him on his right, nor to Bobby, who sat behind him.
Omar had propped his feet up on the empty chair in the row in front, taking out a notebook and pen from a book bag that had been strapped across his back. The acoustic sat on the floor in front of him, sitting up against the back of the theater-like seat.
“Now, as we were talking about last class, T.S. Eliot's The Waste Land depicts...”
Max pulled out his notebook and began taking notes, yawning widely. Suddenly, a shiver crawled up his spine and he quickly looked over at the new student. He could have sworn that this Omar had just looked at him. Sighing, he shook his head and continued to doodle on the paper, like he had been for the past two minutes when he lost interest in Mr. Burkley's lecture almost immediately.
Just because this guy pushed him in the stairwell yesterday, it wasn't any reason to hold a stupid grudge.
“...'these ascended in fattening the prolonged candle-flames, flung their smoke into the laquearia, stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling.' Can anyone tell me why, in this verse, Eliot mentions perfume, and what their imagery has in context with this passage? Mr. Goof?”
“Huh?” He looked up, eyes slightly drooping and unfocused.
“Could you tell us about what the perfume means in this passage?”
“Well, uh...” He racked his brains as several pairs of eyes pointed him out. “I think that it means... that... uh... this Eliot dude needs a shower?”
Several chuckles burst around the class after an embarrassing few moments of silence.
“Mr. Goof,” Burkley sighed, a frown creasing his overly large mouth. “While you may be abysmal in grasping the finer points of literature and their underlying connotations, I'd appreciate it if you'd at least paid attention.” He turned and spotted another student. “Mr. Jameswith, if you would please tell us what the perfume stands for?”
While the student, whose voice rose from the very highest tier of the seats, answered the question and Burkley continued on with the lesson, a deep rumble of muffled laughter came from Max's left.
“Something funny?” Max ground out.
“Actually, yes.” Omar said, a smile failing to fade from his lips. “I just can't believe someone like you could get into this class. Where do you put all your brain power? Surely there's not enough for you to keep steady on your own two feet?”
The black dog flushed with anger. PJ kept a steady hand on his shoulder in warning, also glowering at the red-head.
“You wanna say that again, Omar? Besides, what kind of name is that anyway? Your parents not love you enough?” Bobby hissed at him over his friends' shoulders.
Omar laughed again, eyeing all three of them. “Wow! Petty insults, now, is it? Please, don't go through any trouble trying to come up with something more clever to throw at me; I know you won't be able to without going through the dictionary--although, your ability to go through one at all would surprise me!” He turned back to his notes.
Max made to stand up from his seat, but both his friends kept him from doing so. “Oh yea? Well I'd say that your 'creativity' in making song covers shows an obvious lack in taste, as well as skill. I'm shocked that anybody lets you carry an acoustic at all without blowing their brains out first just to avoid hearing it!”
The insufferable Canadian turned in his seat, eyes wide in mock surprise as his face settled in a mildly amused expression. “Oh. So there is wit in there after all!” his green eyes glittered with mirth. “That's a pleasant surprise! And here I was, thinking that my words were wasted on going over your heads!”
As Max glared wickedly at Omar, the red-head thought he saw a flash of red cross those dark eyes. He blinked, his smile now wiped in sudden confusion.
Hmmm... Well isn't this interesting...
--None of your goddamn business!
Tsk. Max, Max, Max... My dear Maximilian. When are you going to learn that your business is my business, too?
“Ahem.” Came a dry cough in front of them. Mr. Burkley stood there, arms crossed, as he peered at the four of them through his half-moon glasses. “If you're all finished with this metaphorical pissing contest, perhaps we could get back to The Waste Land?”
Forty-five minutes later, PJ, Bobby and Max left the classroom, ready to make their way to Calculus.
“Can you believe the nerve of that guy? Who does he think he is, thinking he can laugh at us?!” PJ said on an outburst.
Just then, Bradley and Tank shoved the three friends aside as they came out of the classroom. “Don't bother moving, Mr. Pete. You're doing a good job putting yourself to use as a doorstop.” Bradley sneered at PJ, momentarily giving Max a glance before leaving, Tank laughing in his friend's wake.
The three of them turned and continued down the hallway, simmering with annoyance.
“Well now I don't know who to hate more, that stuck up pigeon, Bradley, or Omar.”
“I hate them both.” Bobby replied.
Max shook his head, taking control over his emotions, but said nothing.
~/~/~/~/~/~/
A/N: So then! Seems that Omar has a bit of wit backing up that bad-boy musician look of his! What did you think of this scene? :D It seems that something inside Max is intrigued by this newcomer... What will happen next? That's for me to know, and for you to find out! R&R as always!
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Vying For Your Affection