Mysterious Badboy x Cheezy

1 - The Meeting

Cheezy finds herself scribbling on a sheet of notebook paper, mindlessly awaiting the end of class. Though the teacher instructs at the front of the room, she rather finds herself paying more attention to the repetitious tick of the clock. It's only been about ten minutes, much to her dismay.

The teacher pauses, drawing Cheezy 's attention from the clock. The classroom door is harshly pushed open, and from behind it walks in the most captivating man she's ever seen. She stares at him with widened orbs, taking in his features one at a time. His plump body; his bony, long hands; his baggy blue sweatshirt; and most of all, his widened grin. A new student, perhaps, because she would have remembered such a charming presence otherwise.

"Ah, glad to see you here! Welcome!" the teacher grins.

"Everyone here would definitely agree," he glances back at a group of girls, winking. They giggle in response, one of them so much as fanning herself. Cheezy snorts quietly, finding them dramatic to say the least, but secretly her heart fills with deep envy.

"You're the new student I was told about. Your name is..?" she continues, shrugging off the disruptive kids.

"Sans. Sans Peter Griffin," he looks around the room, examining each student and each empty seat, and finally his eyes lock onto Cheezy . A smirk grows across his face as he saunters towards the empty seat next to hers. She knows he's coming, but acts as if she hasn't noticed anyone even sitting close by.

As the teacher resumes her lesson, Cheezy continues drawing on the notebook paper. Next to her, Sans shuffles often. First, he fishes through his backpack to find an empty notebook, then goes on a wild hunt to obtain a pencil. Unfortunately, in the end he had none of the above, and so he did the next best thing: depending on Cheezy .

He leans over towards her, allowing her to take in his scent. It's the musk of teenage boy, semi-clean clothes, too much deodorant, and strangely enough... Old books. "Hey," Cheezy can practically feel his hot breath on her ear. "Can I have a piece of paper and a pencil?"

Bashfully, Cheezy retrieves a pencil from her organized pencil pouch, then gingerly rips a paper from her notebook. He grins and accepts the two, whispering in her ear. "Thanks, kitten."

At the sound of that word dancing across his tongue, the feeling of his breath leaving stains on her skin, she knew she was down bad.