Sanders Sides One-shots

Shoot (OTP - Analogical) [2/3]

Ship: Analogical

TW: Swearing, a bit of blood & violence, and implied unhealthy coping methods (nothing too bad, you'll see)

OH BTW, DID I MENTION THAT THIS IS TECHNICALLY A SLOW BURN FIC?

I forgot, didn't I? Lol

Anyways. This chapter should be slightly longer than usual cause it needs to progress the plot.

This chapter will be featuring brief mentions of two very special guests as well, so have fun spotting them (not that it'll be hard)

Note is at the bottom!

"Lolo, did you actually?!"

Grunting in annoyance, he turned to glare at Patton. "I am right here, the excessive volume is unnecessary. And yes."

A low, impressed whistle escaped the cardigan-clad teen. "I can't believe you flirted with the Virgil Sanders."

"I wouldn't classify it as flirting," Logan shifted in his seat, "and it was worth it to wipe that stupid cocky grin off his face."

"Yes, yes, no one can resist the charms of Logan Holmes, not even bad boy Virg."

He scoffed, opening his mouth to retort when the bell (quite rudely) interrupted him. "Great. I've got advanced math."

"Hm?" Patton quirked a curious eyebrow. "I thought you liked math?"

"I do, but there's a student transferring up from one of the regular classes, and since I've been named the unofficial class captain, I will unfortunately be responsible for dealing with them. Which means socialising. Disgusting."

Patton giggled behind his hand, waving as he ran off to his own class. "Good luck!"

~~~~~~~~~~

'Oh, for fucks sake,' he growled under his breath as a certain asshole walked through the door after being giving the cue.

He watched unamused as Virgil's eyes scanned boredly over the class, as if he didn't want to be standing there, making noncommittal noises here and there as the teacher began rattling off about the rules of the classroom.

When Virgil's eyes landed on him, he watched as they comically widened, and he suppressed a smirk at the way his jaw dropped.

"--and... Mr Sanders, why are you ogling my top student?" The teacher snapped their fingers in front of the frozen teen, their commanding air replaced with teasing mirth. The class erupted into stifled laughter as they watched the typically cool Virgil flush red.

"C'mon, Joan. He's not ogling, he's simply spacing out and wondering how the absolute fuck he's going to keep up in this class if he doesn't start actually listening." Logan joked.

Most people thought that the advanced class had a strict teacher, but nope. Joan, or Mx. Picani formally, was one of the most relaxed, casual teachers in the school.

"Ah, yes, that makes more sense!" Joan turned back to a stupefied Virgil. "Welcome to Advanced Math, where no one gives a fuck but does at the same time. The only free seat is..."

Logan glanced at the empty seat next to him. Fuck.

"...next to Logan."

"Um. Who?"

"The one you were ogling earlier. Take a seat, we'll get started."

Well. There goes the mysterious identity thing. He'd be sure to get Joan back somehow. Maybe lock them in a storage cupboard with a certain bright-haired teacher.