fandomhigh | How to Keep Your Neck in Modeling: A Mercenary's Guide to Fashion - Fifth Period

There were shoes at the front of the class. Many, many shoes.

And a teacher that was too gleeful for his own good over this part of the class. Sometimes it might be good that he wasn't allowed to do the really cruel thing to mess with his students. Other times it just produced days like these.

He was about five minutes from cackling.

"Morning kids. Today we're learning about a very important part of fashion." A beat. "And mostly serving to entertain me with the fun that comes from it."

He waved at the shoes, smiling so very nicely at everyone. "High heels are a must when walking in a runway show. And yes, I know it's mostly for the ladies, but... you never know what kinda wacky hijinks might involve wearing shoes like these. Or, at least, in case any of you are secretly cross-dressers and this is just your dream come true--" He coughed something that sounded an awful lot like 'Hannibal King'. "--But don't you kids worry your pretty little heads. I wouldn't just throw these at you without a demonstration!"

He grinned at his audience and held up a pair of heels. "Oh, Jr? Would you be so nice as to come on up and demonstrate for the kiddies?"

Hannibal wasn't a junior (and thank god, any attachment to his father like that would just be stupid) so he really didn't think he was being called.

Or maybe he was ignoring the possibility it was him.

So, he didn't move.

Deadpool's grin just grew wider. "Come on, Hannibal. Now is time for the dancing."

Yeah, no.

"This isn't dancing class," he said, finally looking up. "I'm not dancing."

"When was this me giving you options?" Deadpool asked slowly. "Now, come on up and demonstrate the shoes for the kiddies."

A beat.

"Or we can be in detention for the remainder of the summer. I wonder if they'll let me run it the whole time too..."

"Isn't there an amendment somewhere that says I don't have to bow to the will of insane teachers who wear pajamas and think it makes them some sort of crusading avenger?" Hannibal asked, gripping his desk just in case.

"Give me twenty bucks and I will." Hey, might as well try.

"I'm not an Avenger. I mean, sure, they have about a million kooky teams these days. And die like lemming. And keep popping back up from the dead. Those crazy folk." He shook his head.

"Nevermind that, walkies," Deadpool said, jiggling the shoes again. "And I left my wallet in my other pajamas."

"What if I decide to take the detention?" Hannibal asked. Not that he wanted to. Saturdays stuck in school sucked.

"Then I find something more embarrassing for next week," Deadpool replied in a sing-song.

"What if I skip?" he retorted.

"Have you met Reno? Red hair, kinda scrappy. Oo! Or lil' Jeff. He's... well you'd know who he was if you met him, trust me. How 'boutcha ask them what happens when students get all proactive around me."

"We'll end up wearing matching pajama sets?" Hannibal tried, looking at the shoes and wondering if he could make like he was going to before bolting from the room.

Probably not, but it would be cute to see him try.

Deadpool just jiggled the shoes again

"I want an IOU for the money," Hannibal decided, "or I'm not leaving this desk until it's cried from my cold dead but still pretty hands."

"Fine, fine. I owe you one favour that does not involve avoiding the humiliation of high heels."

"Fine." He stood up. "Are they even my size?"

"...maybe. I assumed you were the same as me," Deadpool informed him cheerfully.

"That's kind of creepy in all kinds of ways," Hannibal said, making his way to the front of the room. "Stop thinking about me when we're not in class and gimme the stupid shoes."

"You haunt my dreams," Deadpool told him flatly, handing over the shoes.

With a snarl and vowing not to blush, Hannibal toed off his own shoes and put the stupid shoes on.

And did not look up. "There, done. Happy?"

Hands clasped to his chest, Deadpool sighed happily. "Ecstatic!"

"Wonderful," Hannibal said dryly. "Am I done? Can I go sit down now that I've made your day?"

"Only if you wear them on your way back."

"I hate you," Hannibal said, reaching up to swipe his shoes before, gingerly, walking back to his desk in those stupid shoes. He felt like he was going to break an ankle or fall over onto someone's desk.

Deadpool waved him on. "Love you too, Jr. Now, that is what fashion is, kiddies. Pain and humiliation for the goal of entertaining others."

Hannibal dropped down into his desk and, when he thought Deadpool wasn't looking, added a one finger salute.

Just for funsies.

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"That's what Mercutio would have said, though he'd have left out the Japanese bits," he told her cheerfully. "What is bakkari?" He rolled his pants legs to the knees and yanked on the golden boots. "Now if I could only stand up..."

"I was accusing you of kidding me," she said gaily, holding out her hands. "Well, Mercutio would be right, as usual. I wouldn't dare dispute his taste in mini skirts."

"Here, hold on to me for balance, I'll help pull you up."

Edited 2008-07-15 01:16 (UTC)

"He did have excellent judgment in all sartorial matters," Romeo said solemnly, wobbling onto his feet.

He took an experimental clompy step, then another, windmilling his arms slightly for balance and quickly realizing he hadn't outgrown his clumsiness as much as he had hoped.

Yurika giggled and quickly backed up, holding out her hands again in case he needed to grab them. "Careful! If you break your neck now, I can't get you into that skirt later!"

Romeo took another step, gaining some confidence. "You'd have to get me the rest of the way out of my pants first," he said.

Because that was clearly such a challenge.

Yurika just looked at him and smirked. "Not that hard, aijin," she said, leering at him slightly. "However, I don't want to get detention so early in the semester."

He bit his lip and grinned at her. "Then we should just have to wait until after class."

"Naaaaughty!" she giggled, glancing around to make sure no one was staring. "So, what are you up to the rest of the day?"

"Private modeling practice?" Romeo guessed, almost under his breath. "I am certain you could provide all kinds of hands-on training, had we the time."

It took a lot of will power for Yurika not to laugh loudly and call attention to them.

"Private practice, hrm?" she asked lightly, stepping closer to place a light hand on his arm for 'balance'. "I'm sure I could find some way to accommodate your need for hands-on instruction."

"Later." She smiled at him sweetly, then went back to look for other tacky shoes she could bully him in to. "Now, you need to work on your walking skills."

How to Keep Your Neck in Modeling: A Mercenary's Guide to Fashion - Fifth Period - 07/14

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