#wikiyourproblemsaway

"... Someone's in a better mood."

//NO IT’S FINE I JUST WANTED TO MAKE SURE YOU KNEW. AND UHM I THINK I OWE YOU ON THE HS!AU BUT I CAN’T FIND THE POST.

Pssst

We must continue all the HS!AU threads, and Wiki!mun you and I need to have Face fix Wiki now, m'kay

Beeeep! Beeeep! Beeeeep! Beeeeeeeep!

The sound of a generic alarm system rang throughout the room. A hand flew out from under the lump of pillows and blankets on the bed, slamming down on the nightstand again and again, trying and failing to hit the off button three times before it finally managed. The shrill noise ceased immediately.

Brandon Finnigan groaned, lying still in bed for a moment before rolling over and sitting up. He stretched his arms over his head, popping his shoulders and back. Letting out a sleepy sigh, he pushed off the bed, padding his way to the bathroom. The blinking green light of the alarm read 3:00 am.

After brushing his teeth, washing his face, and relieving his bladder, Brandon padded back into his room, slightly more awake. He trudged over to his dresser, rummaging around for his sweat pants and his hoody, pulling those out and stripping. It was methodical work, getting himself dressed for his morning run, and then it was just a matter of grabbing his iPod and his shoes before he was out and about, his feet pounding against the pavement as he started his routine 12 mile run.

Two hours later, Facebook let himself back into his house, dripping in sweat and panting only a bit. He’d gotten out of shape over the summer.  

He peeled off his shoes at the door and left them outside to air out, dropping his iPod onto the kitchen table as he made his way back upstairs to his room. He padded to the bathroom, peeling off his soaked clothes and hopped on in, standing under the steaming water and sighing. Best way to relax after a run. He stood under the mist for awhile, languidly taking his shower, before he hopped out, wrapping a towel around his waist and walking back to his room. He rifled around his dresser, pulling out a deep blue form-fitting shirt and some black flare jeans. Dressing, he looked at the clock. He had time. He grabbed all his summer homework, packing them away, along with his laptop and his cell phone. Slinging the backpack over his shoulder, he grabbed his iPod downstairs and put on his other pair of sneakers, nice and crisp white. Grabbing an apple, he headed down to the garage and dropped his stuff in his car, his baby. He cooed at his ’81 Stingray Corvette, because it was his fucking baby damn it. He’d taken this thing apart and put it back together. She was his. He started the engine up, the car coming to live with a roar, dulling to a gentle but powerful purr. Yes, this was his baby.

He backed out of the garage, clicking the door shut behind him, and turned, starting the twenty minute drive to school. Yeah, he lived further from school than everyone else, but he had to for work.

Sometimes it was hard managing his own company.

Brandon arrived at school around 6:30 as he had every day since he’d started school. He wasn’t going to be changing that on the first day of his junior year. Hopping out of his car, he gave it a gentle pat before heading off to school, heading for the campus room to get some food and coffee, then headed on to the common room so he could get some work done and maybe check the company stocks before first period.

Senior year. The final year of high school. The year when they could finally be top dogs. The year of power.

Beeeep! Beeeep! Beeeeep! Beeeeeeeep!

... What is this noise? Theodore Yannotti rolled over in his bed, staring at the black alarm clock currently filling his room with sound with incomprehension. 6:30 blared in blinding red numbers. Ted hadn't woken up before 10 in months.

When it finally clicked what was going on, he sat up and stretched in contentment, looking around his (somewhat messy) room. When it finally clicked that he was running late, he jumped out of bed, got tangled in his sheets, pried himself out of them, tripped over his PS3, and finally managed to stumble into his bathroom somewhat worse for wear. At least he'd managed to snag some black skinny jeans and a white, red and gray checkered shirt.

Ted's shower was quick, only ten minutes, and his clothes thrown on thereafter. He went the usual morning routine, grabbed his back and tumbled out of his room, down the stairs. A glance at the clock revealed it's was 6:45 and he had roughly twenty five minutes to run to school before the doors closed.

He was going to kill Greg for not waking him up.

And Theodore was nearly out the door when he realized his hair was unquiffed; his wavy brown locks falling into his face and occasionally obscuring his vision.

... This would not do.

--

Sure, he'd risked being late, but that was better than turning up at Silicon Valley Academy (on the first day of the new semester, no less) looking like he'd just had sex and rolled out of bed (not like Ted hadn't done that before, but still).

Besides, he'd made it to school on time, and with an hour and a half to spare. (What cruel soul made it so that they had to get to school way before classes even started?)

So he grabbed a sausage and cheese bagel from the campus room (coughfancylunchroomcough) and headed to the common room on the first floor of the school.

I demand Wiki for the night

I want to use him as a teddy bear