“Holy shit, I got beaten to class. What’s happening Red?”

Simon glanced up as Kat grinned at Damian. Damian smiled back, and Simon found himself bristling at the sensual look, but forced the reaction down. Damian could flirt with anyone he wanted; it wasn’t any of his business.

"So seriously Red, why here so early?"

Simon watched covertly, using his book as cover. He didn't need to worry though; Damian had an answer ready.

"I need to catch up."

"You've been out for awhile. What happened?"

Damian shrugged. "I was suspended."

Kat snickered. "Oh yeah, I heard about that. You ad Bob, huh? Where is the asshole, anyways? I usually see him before school."

Damian shrugged. "Dunno."

Simon suppressed a smile. So he was back to short, terse answers. Simon supposed it was just as well- it kept lies from getting too complicated.

The warning bell rang and the rest of Simon's students trailed in. Most smiled at Damian and asked him where he'd been and why. Much to Simon's surprise, they seemed genuinely curious. Most didn’t even flirt, although one or two did make a few comments, or touched Damian for a little too long. Simon tried to ignore them, suppressing the surge of emotion. He wrote it off as anger and protectiveness. Damian didn't need more guys flirting with him- he needed friends.

Simon stood, forcing all feelings down. He had a class to teach.

--

Simon glanced up from his work at the soft tapping on his door. It was Damian. He quickly sat up and waved the boy in. “What’s up?” he asked curiously. It was just before eighth period.

“Mr. Heath let me out early. He said I should use the time to catch up in my other classes.”

Simon shook his head with a sigh. “That man always did have a sixth sense for these sort of things. Get all your stuff, we can go to the clinic now.”

Damian shrugged as Simon snapped his folder shut and began gathering papers into a shoulder bag. “I already have all my stuff. Only my math teacher gave me book work to catch up on.

Simon grinned. “Oh good.” He stood and eyed Damian’s rather stuffed backup. “Exactly how much homework did your teacher’s give you?”

Damian shrugged. “A lot, but none of it will take that long.”

Simon nodded. “I’ll help you out tonight.” He led the way out to his car and waved Damian in. The trip to the clinic was quick- Simon was glad because he was waiting in the car.

Damian came out with a sheet of paper and a box. He looked amused. “I got everything Jake told me to. This is a recommendation for group counseling.”

Simon raised an eyebrow. “And the condoms?”

“I asked for them.”

Simon sighed. “You realize that as long as you’re staying with me you aren’t going to be needing those much, right? I’m going to drive you home everyday.”

Damian pouted at him, sticking out his full lower lip. “I’m not allowed to have friends over?”

“Not that kind.”

Damian snickered and slumped back. “Whatever you say, Mr. Taylor.”

“Simon,” Simon heard himself say. He flushed. “I mean,” he said gruffly, “if you’re going to live with me-”

Damian cut him off. “Simon,” he said, drawing the syllables out. “I like it.”

Simon grinned. “What, no American Idol references?”

Damian sniffed. “No,” he replied distastefully. “I don’t watch much TV.”
“Oh good, I can’t stand it.”

Damian tilted his head. “What do you do with all your free time then? You don’t do art as far as I’ve seen and you don’t fuck around…”

“Read,” Simon said dryly. “Read, write, and grade an infinite amount of papers. And now, it seems, help you with your homework.”

Damian sighed. “I don’t really need help. I’ve been managing.”

“Everyone could benefit from some help. Everyone.”

“Okay.”

Simon glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as he started up the car. He was looking away. Simon sighed. Damian had folded too fast. He did need the help. “Do you get carsick?”

“Nope. Are you gonna tell me to do my homework now?”

“You can start it.”

Damian groaned. “Slave driver,” he accused.

“That would make you the slave right?”

There was a moment of charged silence before Simon flushed and Damian started snickering. “Are you sure you’re not interested in some form of repayment? Because some of the stuff you say…”

“Damian,” he said, emphasizing the name and taking perverse pleasure in how the redhead jumped, “I am twice your age. You are a child.”

“Am not,” Damian snapped back. “In medieval times I would be married off by now and impregnating some poor girl for the umpteenth time.”

Simon snorted. “This is not the dark ages. And men married later generally.”

“Well, fine,” was the petulant reply. “A few years ago I was getting fucked by guys twice your age.”

There was a long moment of silence, interrupted only by the wail of passing police sirens. “That wasn’t necessary,” Simon said at long last.

Damian flushed and sank down. “I know,” he said softly. “Sorry.”

Simon shook his head. “If you want to talk to me, it’s fine. Just don’t use your past to try and shock me.”

“I wasn’t trying to shock you.”

Simon gave him a long look. “Or seduce me, or disgust me.”

Damian sighed. “Okay,” he said softly.

Damian was silent for the ride back and for the rest of the night. When they were going over Damian’s homework, Simon was shocked by exactly how little he knew. He tried, there was no doubt about that, but he just didn’t get the information. While going over his math- Damian was in Algebra I B- Simon could feel himself getting frustrated. When Damian fudged a simple step during a problem, Simon broke. “It’s forty-three,” he growled.

The pencil in Damian’s hand broke. He flung the pieces at Simon. “I’m sorry,” he snapped back. “I’m stupid! I don’t get this shit!”

Simon glared. “How the hell not?! It’s elementary! I learned it in Kindergarten!”

“Well, I’m fucking sorry I didn’t! I never learned this shit! I was too busy getting beaten to a pulp and fucked by middle aged men!”

Simon shut up as Damian glowered at him. “Shit,” he mumbled. “I get it. Your dad was an asshole. Sorry I snapped.”

Damian just kept glaring. “Fine, can you just leave me alone? I suck at this and need time,” he snapped.

Simon sighed and retook his chair. “Did you ever learn basic math in school?”

Damian shrugged, anger draining. “No,” he muttered sullenly. “I mean my class did at one point but I was worrying about other things.”

“How did you get away with it later?” Simon asked, exasperated.

Damian sighed and yanked a hand through his hair. “I didn’t. I just wasn’t in school.”

Simon looked at him. “I know you ran away but how much school did you miss?”

Damian sighed and looked down. “Three years. Sixth, seventh, and eighth grade. I ran away when I was twelve, but I had already been pulled back twice. I really am stupid.”

Simon shook his head. “No, you just missed a lot.”

“I’m an idiot.”

Simon hesitated a moment, but decided to tell the truth. “Maybe not the brightest bulb in the box but you’re not stupid. And you do try, which counts more than natural smarts.”

“All my talent went elsewhere, I guess,” Damian said wryly.

Simon nodded. “Yeah, you’re a fantastic artist. I can draw a mean stick figure, but that‘s about it.”

Damian actually laughed, although the sound had a bitter, broken quality to it. “I was talking about something else, but thanks.”

Confused, Simon turned back to the math problems and something he actually understood.