Title: Flauting It - posted October 8, 2005
Author: Lacey McBain
Series:  Beginnings (Shadows and Stone)
Rating: PG.  Pre-Slash.  Bruce, Lex.
Summary:  Bruce tries out for school band.  And his instrument is ... ?
Timeframe:  The boys are about 14 in this.  This is NOT a sexual story, but there's the occasional sexually-confused-teenager thought along slashy lines.
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, but if I did they'd make beautiful music together.  I take full responsibilities for the bad puns.
***

Beginnings:  Flauting It

“What’s that?” Lex asked from his bed as he noticed the small black case Bruce was carrying into their dorm room.  He set it carefully down on the desk.

“Nothing.”

Lex narrowed his eyes.  Nothing was ever nothing with Bruce.  “It’s not going to explode, is it?”

“I haven’t connected the wires yet,” Bruce said with absolute calm, but when he looked up he was grinning.  Lex threw a pillow at him.  Bastard.  Freaky bastard who could all too easily have incendiary devices lying about.  Although, they hadn’t needed any to blow up the chem. lab last month.  That had been pure science at work.  God, it had been beautiful.  Lex laughed to himself until he realized he was the object of Bruce’s questioning glance.  The raised eyebrow said it all.

“What?  I’m not allowed to laugh?”

“People who stare off into space and laugh without apparent reason often get locked up in institutions.”

“I’m in one.  It’s called Excelsior Prep, remember?”  He rolled onto his knees and peered towards the black case Bruce was just starting to open.  From the angle he was at, he couldn’t see the contents.  “So, what’s in the box?”

“You’ll see in a minute.”  Bruce turned so that his large frame was blocking Lex’s view.  All Lex could see was the occasional flash of silver, the twisting motion of Bruce’s hands.  His curiosity was piqued, and Bruce knew it.

“Come on, Bruce.  What’ve you got?”  Another flash of silver.  “Gun?  Knife?” Lex asked with some hesitation.

Bruce stopped what he was doing and glared over his shoulder.  Lex swallowed, and shook his head.  “Sorry.  I—I know better.”

“Yes, you do.”  He went back to assembling whatever was in the case.

“Just tell me already.”  Lex bounced on the bed, trying to get a better look.  “You know I hate waiting.”

“I know.”  Bruce’s voice was smug.  “The female mayfly, Dolania americana, typically has a lifespan of five minutes in which it must locate a mate, reproduce and lay its eggs before death.”

“Huh?”

“That insect has a longer attention span than you do.”

This time, Lex threw a book.  A heavy one.  Bruce caught it one-handed without even looking up, laying it on the desktop.  Lex stuck his tongue out, rolled his eyes, and made rude gestures with his hands.  None of it made Bruce increase the speed of his methodical work.  Sometimes Lex hated his roommate.

“God, Bruce, enough already.”  Lex flopped onto his back in resignation.  “You wouldn’t even tell me what you had to do after class, and now this?  Come on!  Just stop torturing me and tell me!”

Bruce shook his head and turned around with a smirk, hiding something behind his back.  Lex raised himself onto his elbows and waited.  Now they were getting somewhere.

“I had an appointment.  In the music room.”

“The music room?”  Lex didn’t follow.

“I tried out for band,” Bruce explained almost shyly.  He brought the item he’d been holding behind his back around to the front.  Lex leapt off the bed and stared, speechless. 

“Lex?  What do you think?”

Lex blinked as if it might make the vision change.  Nope. Still the same.  Still Bruce—tall, broad and brooding Bruce holding a flute cupped delicately in his hand.

“That’s a flute.”

“Yeah.”  Bruce beamed.

“You’re repairing it for someone?”

“No.”

“You beat up a nerdy short kid with glasses and took it from him?”

“No, Lex.  What’s the matter with you?  It’s mine.  Well, on loan for the year, anyway.  Maybe I’ll get my own later.”  Bruce seemed unable to stop grinning.  It was a most unnatural state, and it was freaking Lex out.  “I’m going to be the principal flautist for the wind orchestra this year.  Mr. Able said I had natural talent.”

Lex shook his head, convinced he’d been launched into some sort of nightmare.  Bruce.  With a flute.  It didn’t fit with his vision of the universe at all, and he wondered somehow if he’d been too close to those chemicals in the lab this morning.  Come to think of it, his head did feel a bit funny.

“Lex?”  There was a hand on his forehead.  “Lex, just sit down.  You look … pale.”

“I’m always pale,” Lex muttered, but sat back down on his bed.

“More pale than usual.”  Bruce’s tone was edged with concern.  “Were you sniffing the chemicals in the lab again?”

“No!” Lex said, outraged.  “Well, a little, but only to check if the mixture was ready.  I swear.”

Bruce removed his hand from Lex’s head and handed him the flute.  “I’m going to get you a cold cloth.  Stay put.”

Lex stared at the silver instrument in his hands.  It was surprisingly heavy.  He could see his face reflected back at him, stretched into distortion by the rounded edge of the flute.  He jumped when Bruce slapped a cold wet washcloth across his forehead.

“Jeez, what’d you do?  Wait till icicles were coming out of the tap?”

“Should I get Toby?” Bruce sounded genuinely worried and his mouth had slipped into its usual straight line.  Lex felt kind of sad about that.  Bruce smiled more with Lex than anyone else, but it still didn’t seem like a lot.

“No.  We agreed.  There’s no blood or broken bones, so just leave the witch doctor out of it.”

“Yeah, and it’s me he doesn’t like.  Go figure.”

“Toby likes you fine.”  Lex pulled the cloth away from his forehead and wiped his face with it.  “He just likes me more.”

“Can I have my flute back?” Bruce said, gesturing towards the instrument Lex still had gripped firmly in one hand.  Lex shook his head as if the words Bruce had said didn’t make any sense.

“I don’t think you and the flute are a good match.”

“Mr. Able said—”

“Mr. Able flunked out of Juilliard and got his music education degree where trained chimpanzees regularly substituted for conductors.”

“You’ve been listening to your father again,” Bruce said, and Lex glared at him angrily. 

Bruce grabbed the flute back and cradled it protectively, as if Lex was capable of hurting it.  Well, the thought had crossed his mind, but since it likely required a blow torch, that particular plan would have to wait until later.  Lex took in the sight of his too-handsome-for-his-own-good roommate with the shiny, way-too-phallic-for-Lex’s-good flute in his hands, and had a moment of insight.  There was a pretty damn good chance Bruce was gay.  Well, maybe this flute thing wasn’t so bad after all.

“Come on, Lex.  Admit it.  You’re mad because I did something without you.”

“I play an instrument!  I could be in the stupid band if I wanted,” Lex said, even though he had absolutely no interest in joining what amounted to a social club for nerds.  Except Bruce was going to he hanging out with them now, and maybe he’d meet people he liked more than Lex.  It was a disconcerting thought.

“Instrument?  What do you play?  And don’t say piano because that doesn’t count.  Everybody plays piano.”

Lex huffed and swallowed the word piano.  “I play the drums.”

Bruce laughed.  “Pounding on your desk with pencils is not the same as playing the drums, you moron.”

“I’ve had lessons!”

Bruce continued to look skeptical.

“I have.”  Lex didn’t add that the private tutor had said he had no discernible sense of rhythm and probably would be better off trying something different.  He’d only been eight at the time.  His parents had been pleased when he’d changed his mind about drum lessons, and they’d let him start fencing, which was much better anyway.  Still, he’d always really wanted to play the drums.

“Lex.”

“Why do you want to be in the band anyway?  We’ve got enough stuff going on with fencing and archery and homework.  I suppose you’ll be at rehearsals every night.”  Lex wasn’t sure how the conversation had come to this, but it always seemed to be this way with Bruce.  They’d start out arguing about one thing and end up arguing about something else entirely.  It didn’t make any sense, but he’d kind of gotten used to it.

“You think you’re not going to see me?” Bruce asked.  “We’re in every class together, we eat together, and we share a room.  How much more do you want?”

All the time.  Forever.  Lex laid the damp cloth over his eyes and didn’t answer.  He didn’t honestly know what those thoughts meant.  Maybe they would go away eventually.  Friendships didn’t last.  His father had told him that.  Lex felt the bed dip with Bruce’s weight.

“Lex, don’t be a jerk about this.  I—I just wanted to try something different.  I thought you’d be happy.”

Lex pulled the cloth away from his eyes and sighed.  He glanced at Bruce and nodded.  He did want Bruce to be happy.  He really did.  But he also wanted him to be his best friend forever and there were other feelings stirring that said maybe Lex wanted even more than that, but he didn’t know exactly what.  Well, he did, but this was Bruce and everything was different with Bruce.  He could be patient for Bruce.  If he had to.

“Flute, huh?”

Bruce grinned.  “You know what they say about flautists?”

“That they’re easy targets?”

Bruce punched him on the arm.  “No.  ‘If you’ve got it, flaut it’.”

Lex stared.  “That’s—that’s—did you just make a pun?  A really, really bad grammatically-challenged pun?  There’s a difference between flaunt and flout, you know, although most people—”

“Shut up,” Bruce said, laughing.  “And since you’re taking the flute news so well, I brought you something else.”  He handed Lex a small iron rod about eight inches long.

“Ah, the Tiny Iron Stick of Doom.  I will cherish it always.”

“You’re such a dork.  It’s a triangle beater.”

“I will use it to fend off any attacking triangles.  Your concern for my safety continues to humble me.”

Bruce took the rod away from him, shaking his head.  “Well, if you don’t want to try out for the percussion section, I guess that’s up to you …”

“What?”  Bruce had Lex’s full attention now.

“You heard me.  Mr. Able needs another percussionist.  And he’s willing to give you some lessons, although I did tell him you seemed to have a natural affinity for pounding on stuff and making noise.”

“I never told you I wanted to play—”

“Yeah, you did.”  Bruce smiled at him.  “You tell me all the time.  Incessant, annoying tapping.  Ergo a secret repressed desire to pound on stretched calf-skin with wooden sticks.”  Bruce tried to look grim, but it didn’t work.  Lex wanted to hug him.  So he did.

“Ah, Lex?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re crushing my flute.”

“Oh, and I thought you were just happy to see me.”

Bruce pulled away sharply, red in the face, but one look at Lex and he burst into laughter.  “Bastard,” he said affectionately.

“Flautist,” Lex returned, shaking his head.  He threw the washcloth through the open bathroom door, hoping it hit the hamper.  Well, he’d get it later.

“I have a confession to make,” Bruce said, starting to dismantle the flute and settle it into the velvet-lined case.

“Yeah?  What?”

A tap at the door interrupted the conversation, and a short blond boy stuck his head in when Lex answered.

“Bruce?  Are you done with my flute?”

“Here, Arnold.  Thanks.”

Bruce closed the case and handed it to the boy.  Lex looked from one to the other, realization setting in.  He was going to kill Bruce.

“See you at rehearsal, Bruce.”  With a toothy grin, the boy left, swinging his flute case beside him.

Lex shut the door and turned on his roommate.  “Flute?”

“Well, I did try out for band, actually,” Bruce stammered.  “But Mr. Able assigned me to play the bassoon.”

“The bassoon?”  Well, at least it was more fitting with Bruce’s personality and size, and it was still adequately phallic. Lex grinned.  He held up the triangle beater he was still holding.  “Want to go beat some triangles before dinner?”

“Sure,” Bruce said and followed Lex out the door.  Neither of them knew where they were going, but it didn’t really matter.


THE END

NOTE:  Information on the mayfly can be found at:  http://ufbir.ifas.ufl.edu/chap37.htm

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