Twats Will Be Twats

TWATS WILL BE TWATS

a/n: This is my entry for @northbynorth's Saving Elliot one shot competition! If there are any grammatical errors it is because this is totally uneditted (I decided to procrastinate on writing this to the last minute--bad habit of mine).

Also, if there are any details that are wrong in this one shot it is because I'm a forgetful idiot so please also ignore that. Enjoy :-)

Christopher Finley, O’Connor decided, was a complete and utter twat. A stupid one, at that.

“No, Jamie mate, we can’t go.” It wasn’t that O’Connor had a grudge against Jamie—what was he talking about, of course he did. If Finley was a complete and utter twat that Jamie was something else on a whole new level.

Jamie raised an eyebrow at the brooding O’Connor. “You mean you have to go. I’m pretty sure when Elliot asked you to help her with finding a good present for Elliot”—O’Connor was confused by this point; calling them Jensen and Fintry seemed so much more ideal—“not Finley.”

If looks could kill, Jamie would probably be dead six feet under the ground.

Finley, unaware of the grave mistake he was about to make, shrugged and moved over to Jamie’s side, ready to follow him out the school doors.

“C’mon, if we get to the ice cream parlour now there won’t be a line,” Finley said, oblivious (O'Connor wasn't sure if he was really as innocent as he looked).

“Bu-but—I’m absolutely horrible at choosing presents! You’d be much better than me at this,” O’Connor implored, trying to keep the desperate tone out of his voice.

Jamie just shook his head and continued to drag Finley out of the school, dodging the sea of students. O’Connor felt like punching something, although why he had this sudden need for violence he could not explain (and it was definitely nothing to do with Finley, no).

A couple of hours later, still in his angry-but-not-because-of-Finley state, O’Connor dumped all his problems on Elliot, looking for an outlet for his frustration.

“It’s completely normal for your cousin to make friends,” Elliot stated, not helping at all. “And what if those friends were one of your own? You don’t have a problem with me being friends with Finley; I don’t see why you have a problem with Callahan being friends with Finley.”

“I—I—just no. You wouldn’t understand, Elliot,” O’Connor grumbled out, trying his best not to punch something (again). Perhaps it was just the A-levels stressing him out (or perhaps it was this weird I-want-to-regurgitate-last-night’s-dinner feeling whenever he saw Finley and Jamie together. In fact the words “Finley and Jamie” should never be uttered again, in that order. Ever).

“Hmm”—Elliot frowned, at what O’Connor wasn’t so sure (but Elliot was sure she was frowning at O’Connor’s idiocy)—“I think I know more than you give me credit for.”

O’Connor narrowed his eyes and gestured for her to go on. Elliot, a particular shoe store (he thought they were shopping for Fintry?) catching her attention, proceeded to use a vice grip on his arm and drag him the whole ten feet there.

“Perhaps,” she said, once they were in the store and she was molesting half the shoes on the counters, “it’s not about Finley’s friendship at all. Perhaps”—she paused and leaned closer to him for dramatic effect—“it’s the friendship between you and him that’s troubling you.”

If O’Connor didn’t already know he was in denial of this stupid little voice (a voice that went tits, girls, vajayjay once and had now become Finley, tits, Finley) existing in his head, then he would have most certainly whacked Elliot over her head with the pair of converses she was holding.