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Byron, Shelley, and Keats - Kate
R - language, implied m/m slash, bad poetry
Characters: Alex Shelley, Austin Starr, mentions of Kevin Nash
Summary: Alex Shelley's having some problems getting through to his crush.
Disclaimer: We own neither the characters nor the individuals who portray them. Written soley for our own enjoyment.
Notes: I haven't been inspired to write anything in a while, so hopefully this quick little one-shot will get me back on the horse. I still want to do a serious Nash/Shelley fic someday, but for now, Alex Shelley is a thirteen-year- old girl.

Since the moment that I first met you,
I knew that this feeling was true.
I'll be yours for all time
If you say you'll be mine
And I -- what the hell, fuck it, let's screw!

"Stop laughing," Alex Shelley grumbled, snatching the notebook paper from his hysterical roommate and flopping facedown onto the bed beside him. His metallic purple boxers glinted in the dim light. "It was just a first draft."

Austin Starr grabbed one of the cheap hotel pillows to muffle the remainder of his laughter. "Sorry," he finally managed, gasping for breath. "I like it, Alex. I really do."

"Shut up," Alex mumbled, face buried in his arms. "I'm no good at poetry."

Austin swallowed the impulse to laugh again. "Listen. Poetry's all about style. And subtlety."

"This was subtle!" Alex flung the crumpled paper against a nearby wall. "The first version I wrote, I started off with the 'let's screw' line. It got less subtle after that."

"Did you think about professing your love in non-limerick form?"

Two heartbeats later, Alex half-heartedly offered, "Roses are red..."

"Championships are gold..." Austin suggested with a wicked grin.

"If you'll be my boyfriend..."

"I won't mind you're so old?"

"You're not even trying to help!" Alex yelled, flinging himself off the bed and giving an unoffending desk chair a vicious kick.

Austin fell back to laughing, but quickly composed himself as he saw the genuine pain on Alex's face. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "So poetry isn't your thing. We can come up with something else."

"Like what?"

"Like just telling him how you feel. Nash has been around a long time; I'm sure he's had much worse offers from much less attractive people."

"I tried that," Alex admitted, sinking to sit on the edge of the bed. "He told me he'd give me his letter jacket if I let him wear a promise ring. I think he thought I was joking. Or maybe he's just not interested."

"But he grabs your ass all the time."

"Yours, too."

"Yeah," Austin smirked, "but mine is particularly grabbable."

"He grabs everybody. He pinched Senshi one time. Almost lost a hand."

Austin sighed. "OK. So poetry is out, and talking is out. We all saw the leather pants fiasco --"

"That wasn't my fault! He accidentally put itching powder in my pants!" Alex's eyes widened as a thought occurred to him. "Or maybe it wasn't an accident. Maybe he *meant* to do it! Maybe he secretly hates me!"

"Or maybe he was just trying to get you out of your pants."

Alex bit his lower lip hopefully "He did stare a lot. When he was done laughing."

"He was totally ogling you."

"Yeah, he was! You know, I thought he might be...there was this one time I pretended to be all drunk and went to his room so he could, you know, take advantage of me, right? And he carried me back to my room and put me in bed, and then he wrote 'COCK' in marker on my forehead. And I thought he was just being an asshole...but maybe it was, like, a hint or something."

Austin pulled his face into the most somber expression he could manage. "Dude. He totally wants you."

"I know!" Alex exclaimed happily. "He saw I was flirting with him, so he was flirting back. We're practically dating already!"

"He probably loves you," Austin pointed out. "That's why he hasn't had the nerve to say anything yet."

Alex gasped. "You think? That makes so much sense!" He jumped back to his feet. "I have to tell him I know. Right now."

"Good luck," Austin told him solemnly, barely concealing his grin as Alex marched toward the door. As soon as the door slammed, Austin switched off the bedside lamp, sinking back into bed with a contented sigh. "Finally," he muttered to himself. A moment before he drifted off to sleep, he added. "Wonder how he's going to get upstairs in his boxers."