this is NOT the idiot you are searching for, Starring Trevor And Rafael

The growls of an empty stomach echoed throughout the halls of the school as a boy slowly made his way toward the dining hall, his dark hazel eyes focused on the path ahead of him while he avoided making eye contact with other people. He was dressed in a black graphic t-shirt with another red long sleeved plaid shirt over it, not even having bothered to button it up, a pair of jeans, and his favorite pair of chucks. His hair lay wet and spiked in almost every direction as he had come fresh from the shower after his daily morning run out in the woods and as usual, his trek out into the wild has left him hungry and running a little low on fuel. As the person bearing the literary spirit of a cartoon sabre tooth tiger, he could've easily just stayed out in the woods and hunted around for a rabbit or two to snack on but he didn't need to appear any weirder than he already did to the rest of the student body of Nemare academy. Despite the general demeanor he conducted himself in, he actually wanted people to like him and munching on the bones of something cute and fluffy didn't exactly give off the best impression. And besides, he wasn't the only shapeshifter in the school. What he thought was a normal every day deer could actually be the person who was inhabited by the character spirit of Bambi and that would just be a huge mess. So, instead he ate at the dining hall like every other kid in the school despite his inner "beast" protesting it every step of the way.

After finally entering the dining hall, he headed straight for the breakfast buffet and picked himself up a plate before he began loading it up with bacon, sausage, and pancakes, drenching everything in syrup as he went along. Once he had his breakfast ready, he then strolled casually over to an empty table where he sat down and began chowing down, not even bothering to use his fork. As he chewed slowly on a mouthful of bacon, he let his eyes wonder over the grand dining hall, taking in it's great walls and fine furnishing, wondering for the millionth time how a kid like him could ever end up eating breakfast in what looked like a dining hall out of some fancy resort where movie stars vacationed. Coming from a family of five children, the Vargas never really had that much extra money to spend. His dad was a mechanic and his mom owned a small bakery, both jobs that didn't pay very much. It also didn't help that two of his bothers were off at college by now as well and were burying themselves in debt. When times were especially bad he even had to wear hand me downs when he was a kid. Despite it being sometimes hard however, it had never seemed to bother the youngest Vargas that he wasn't as well off as most of the snobby rich kids in the school. His parents did their best in raising him and it's not like he had ever gone hungry before.

Still, he's had to pinch himself sometimes when he's at the school to make sure that he isn't dreaming, especially when he was in his dorm room which he shared with his two best friends. Even with three boys in it, the place was still a lot bigger than his old room at home back in Boston. As he swallowed before he stuffed another handful of bacon into his mouth, his eyes continued to wonder freely over the stained glass windows of the hall until his gaze fell over on a group of people that were gathering near the dining hall entrance. Curious as to what all the commotion was, he chewed his second helping of bacon more quickly before he wiped his mouth clean with the sleeve his shirt and got up to follow closely behind a pair of students who had gathered around the group as well. Standing on his tips toes, he tried his best to stare over the heads of the students had gathered to see just what everyone was staring at but found himself coming up short. When the chants of "Fight! Fight! Fight!" erupted from all around however, he started shoving other students aside and tried to squeeze his way in between people to get a better look at things. When he finally reached the front of the crowd, his foot got caught on someone else's and he fell face forward on the ground in the middle of the group. Wincing slightly as he got up, he then found himself face to face with his friend Trevor as the group of people backed up a little to include the spiky haired boy in the center of the ring as well.

Trev's day was not, on the whole, going well.

It had all started earlier this morning when, half-blinded by his own shampoo, he'd accidentally taken someone else's shirt to wipe his face off instead of his own towel. Understandably, the owner of the shirt had been angry, but thankfully Trev had managed to escape with his life, if not with his towel. This had resulted in the sophmore having to leg it back to his room without so much as a courtesy fig leaf in place. Thanks to many years of practise in sneaking around, having had to escape and hide from bullies pretty much since he was old enough to go to school, he was pretty sure he'd only been spotted by one person. Whether or not that one person was cruel enough to spread unkind rumours about seeing him in that condition had yet to be determined, but he was sure that he would know by the time supper rolled around. When gossip was released into the crowd at Nemare, it spread like bird flu. Or was it swine flu?

Anyway. Once Trev had made it back to his dorm room, he had discovered that his usual method of putting his clothes away, i.e. not doing it, meant that differentiating between the dirty and the clean clothing became quite an art. It had taken him ages to find, by means of his bloodhound-like sense of smell, a pair of wearable jeans and an equally wearable green golf shirt that had only one small tomato sauce stain on the hem of one sleeve. By the time he had gotten himself dressed (hitting his elbow on the corner of Raf's desk, might he add), he was running even later than his usual running late, which meant that he missed the breakfast safe zone. The breakfast safe zone was that period in the morning that was both late enough to suit Trev's laidback style and sense of timing but also still early enough to avoid the villains with similar attitudes to timing. Trev made a point of avoiding both the early-rising villains and the late-rising ones, but it was worse to run into a late-rising villain - they tended not to be the ones that made the elaborate schemes for world domination. They were the ones that would punch his face in as soon as look at him... and Trev liked his face where it was, thank you.

It was because of this chain of unfortunate events - it couldn't be a series of unfortunate events, because the narrator would be more easily sidetracked, and way more gloomy about everythign - that Trev found himself in the same corridor as one of his perennial bullies. He couldn't remember just at the moment who the guy's spirit was, but he could be forgiven for that, given that where he was was now in the middle of a growing crowd of students, all eagerly watching this latest bout of Trevorbashing. It was practically a recognised sport for the school's bully class, and often made for a pretty entertaining spectator sport for all the rest of the student body too. Trev was not a fan, for obvious reasons. He didn't get why his greeting people with a cheerful 'good morning, guysh' could be reason enough for them to start threatening him with (and exacting) violence. It couldn't possibly have anything to do with the fact that just about every single one of the Trevbashers had been personally annoyed and probably insulted, too, by the loudmouth sophomore. If Trev had one major flaw out of the many choices, it was never knowing when to shut up.

"Come on guysh..." Trev swallowed, looking around. Sometimes Nemare's student population was like one big crowd waiting to happen, able to form within seconds of something interesting happening. Some - okay, most - of the crowd were encouraging the bullies to 'fight! fight!', which was impairing Trev's ability to think of a way to talk himself out of this. He stumbled back as one of them shoved him, his narrow, pudgy frame no match for brute force from a genuine brute. "What are we getting worked up about here anywaysh?" he continued, sticking to the only defense mechanism he really had besides running away. "A shimple hello to my favourite Cro-Magnons?" It slipped out before his not-very-alert common sense could intervene, and all he could do was hope they didn't know what he meant. On the other hand, he was pretty sure that they could guess that it was an insult from the fact that they didn't understand it, intelligence always being the enemy of the stupid. "No, come on guysh..." The next shove pushed him over, and he skidded a little way on the polished floor, trying not to cower too obviously. This was bad. This was very bad. Time to run - or it would have been, if this damn crowd weren't in the way.

Suddenly, the crowd shifted and gave birth to the incredibly welcome form of Raf Vargas. Most of the time, he picked on Trev and teased him mercilessly, but just occasionally, Trev's efforts at maintaining a friendship of sorts with him was well rewarded - like now. When he was going to save Trev's butt. Right? Right! "Good timing, pal," Trev said quietly, getting to his feet as Raf did the same. His crooked grin found a way back onto his face, resolve bolstered by the fact that he now had some very sharp sabre fangs and claws on his side. It was a whole lot easier to be confident when one had the necessary strength and/or weaponry to back oneself up - even if they happened to be attached to another person. "What shay you give 'em a little tiger and we go grab a drink?" Yeah. It was totally going to be that simple.

Dark hazel eyes grew wide as Trevor slid toward him on the floor, thankfully stopping just a few inches away from colliding into his face. That was the last thing Raf needed, a bloody nose first thing in the morning before class had even started. Letting out a low grunt, he got to his feet at the same time his friend did before he began dusting his clothes off. Of course, it shouldn't have come as a surprise that Trevor would be the one in the middle of a fight. The blond haired waste of space was always attracting trouble to himself and unfortunately since he was also best friends and room mates with Raf that also meant indirectly attracting trouble for the tiger shifter as well. "Trevor." he started as he finished dusting off the front of his shirt. "Figures you'd be the cause of this disaster, what did you do this time? Spit in the guy's food?" he asked as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, ignoring the stares of everyone else while his own gaze glared down harshly at the smaller boy in front of him. To be fair, he knew deep down that the fights involving Trevor weren't always caused by the annoying, dim witted, clumsy buffoon. There were jerks in this school who took advantage of the good natured, easily scared fellow and used his weak stature to push him around for the hell of it. Depending on Trevor's response, Rafael might just let the blond haired boy receive the atomic wedgie he deserved or step in and actually rescue him from the brutes. His expression softened somewhat however, giving way to intrigue as he arched a dark eyebrow when the other boy grinned up at him and suggested that he should go sabre toothed on his attackers who still had both boys cornered.

"You know I can't go tiger when I want, I have to be pissed off or my life's in danger so unless you plan on taking a butter knife and stabbing me with it I suggest you come up with a different plan." he finally replied with a slow shake of his head. It was annoying really, to have a power and not even be able to use it when you needed it not that he's determined whether he needed it or not yet. Besides, he didn't exactly feel like shifting with so many people watching him. They already avoided him like plague as it is and going tiger on a bunch of defenseless idiots would just make him no better than the bullies were. Sure Raf could be an obnoxious ass hat sometimes but he didn't get any pleasure out of someone's pain and humiliation unless it was Trevor's humiliation but that was a different story. "And don't touch me! Poking and prodding me to save your own hide is just low." he added as he took a step back from the other boy, knowing Trevor knew his weakness of not liking it when people got into his personal space without his permission. If you wanted to piss Rafael off, the quickest way to do it was to poke him repeatedly or to eat all the cheeseburgers on Burger Wednesday. If he was annoyed enough, which was quite often seeing as Trevor somehow always managed to push every one of his buttons, he could shift as easily as he could slip out of his own clothes.

His lips parted to continue scolding the other boy when one of the brutes had reached out and grabbed Trevor by the back of his shirt and began dragging him backwards. "We're not done with you yet Princess." he hissed as he cut into the conversation. "Excuse me but my friend and I were having a conversation." Raf growled to the larger boy as his hand shot out to grab Trevor by the front of his shirt and yanked him back toward him in a game of tug of war, turning his glare from his friend to the bully's. "Stay out of this pretty boy, it doesn't concern you." the stranger fired back as he forcefully tugged on Trevor's shirt again, trying to break the sophomore free from the dark haired male's grasp. "That's my punching bag that you're throwing around so I believe that it does concern me you neanderthal." Raf retorted as his eyes narrowed even further, his fingers clutching tightly on to the fabric of Trevor's shirt as he gave it one final yank, freeing the blond once and for all which caused the bully to stumble forward a little in surprise at Rafael's hidden strength. Without removing his eyes from the bully, Raf began dragging Trevor around so that he was standing protectively behind the tiger shifter before he finally let go of the front of his shirt. Returning his harsh glare, the bully suddenly inched his face into Raf's, a sinister smile curling on his lips. "Alright boy, you asked for it." he stated hotly before one of his fists lashed out and smacked squarely into Rafael's jaw.

The wind seemed to be knocked out of Raf as he fell to the floor on his hands and knees, his head spinning a little as a sharp pain shot up his teeth which took on some of the impact of the punch. The sounds of "ooooh" from the crowd echoed in his ears as the sweet metallic taste of blood flooded his senses and after licking his lip to find it split, the boy let out a small animalistic growl, his eyes suddenly changing from their normal appearance to feline like slits. As the boy who struck him was about to turn and walk away with his friends laughing, Raf suddenly got off his knees and onto his feet before he tackled the boy to the floor, letting out a loud roar as his front canines grew abnormally long, resembling that of his spirit's. "I dare you to try that again." he hissed, grabbing the boy by the lapels of his leather jacket and pulling him up only to slam him into the ground again, fangs bared. The boy let out a strangled scream as he hit the floor before he stared up with wide eyes at the monster on top of him. "Alright! Alright! I'm sorry, please don't kill me." the boy begged as he struggled under Raf who continued to pin him down. "Don't apologize to me meat sack, apologize to him!" Raf roared again as he pointed a clawed finger to Trevor, his harsh tone making the boy beneath him flinch. "I-I'm sorry Langloth!" the boy stammered in fear, cowering away from the other fanged boy who continued to glare threateningly down at him.

With the bully having finally apologized to his friend, Rafael eased up on him a little, retracting his fangs though his eyes remained inhuman and set in a glare. "And I better not see you or your buddies around Trevor again, kapeesh?" he asked as he finally stood up, letting the bully crawl on his hands and knees to his friends before they all ran off and out of the dining hall. Standing as straight as possible, he then turned on the crowd, causing a few people to back up out of fear. "Shows over, go home people." he then dismissed everyone as his pupils returned to their natural round shape, his tongue flickering over the still bleeding cut on his lip as the crowd dispersed.

"Trevor. Figures you'd be the cause of this disaster, what did you do this time? Spit in the guy's food?"

Trev just about pouted at the first thing out of Raf's mouth. How was that for friendly solidarity? Come on! "Why do you alwaysh asshume it'sh my fault?" he complained, completely and conveniently ignoring the fact that 1) this was partially his fault and 2) in general, when Raf was forced to come to his aid, whatever trouble he was in was of his own making. Trev could annoy a brick wall. It was like the worst superpower in the history of the world. "Geez," he continued, moving closer to his friend (but in no way hiding behind him, of course). "Wordsh can hurt, you know." He was teasing, of course - even in a crisis situation, the sophomore's humour never seemed to fail. Especially not when he had backup.

"You know I can't go tiger when I want, I have to be pissed off or my life's in danger so unless you plan on taking a butter knife and stabbing me with it I suggest you come up with a different plan."

Of course, Raf chose to point out the logical flaws in his brilliant, if poorly thought out, plan. Sigh. If more people listened to Trev, and did as he told them to, the world would be a happier place. Well. A happier place for him anyway. It really was inconvenient that one of the few people willing and able to stand up for Trev when he got himself into situations like this wasn’t as good at playing his major trump card as he should be. Technically there was nothing wrong with Raf’s progress with his shifting, since he was still only in his second year here at Nemare – and even if there had been, the sloth incarnate was in no position to pass judgement. Trev could shift into his prehistoric sloth form if he chose, but not without everyone in the vicinity (sometimes including him) losing interest halfway through. His problem wasn’t so much knowing how to do it as knowing how to do it today, preferably before sunset. Slowness was an admirable trait in a sloth, but for a human it wasn’t really all that helpful. Anyway, at least Raf had given him an option...

"And don't touch me! Poking and prodding me to save your own hide is just low."

Trev sighed and lowered his arm, which hadn’t really gotten through the initial lifting stage of being on its way to poke Raf in the side. He hadn’t really experimented all that much on the triggers of Raf’s shifting, mainly for the simple reason that, well, sabre-tooth tigers found sloth meat delicious (or… edible) and human meat even deliciouser. Anyway, he didn’t even know if poking his friend incessantly would be enough of an annoyance for him to lose it and go tiger – and it didn’t seem that he was going to find out. Pouting, he shook his head. "It might be low, but what elshe do you shuggesht we do, geniush?" It wasn’t like they had a bunch of options here. Sure, the fit and strong Raf could take on these guys individually and hand them their sorry asses, but unlike in Hollywoodland there was little chance of them conveniently attacking one at a time. The other problem was that Trev’s version of fighting back usually either involved running or screaming like a girl. Or both. He wasn’t so much dead weight as an active liability in a situation like this.

This bantering with his friend was actually quite a nice change from his previous attempting to persuade the idiots to find some other entertainment, but it was not to last. Trev flailed his arms as one of the bullies grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled, nearly making him fall over. Before Trev could do anything (run, scream, bargain), though, Raf decided that today was not the day his roommate would get turned into someone else’s personal football. "Woah!" Trev blurted as his friend grabbed the front of his shirt, effectively setting up a tug of war. Man, Trev hated being the rope. "Hey, hey, hey, guysh, come on!" Trev pleaded as the two bigger boys snapped at each other, yanking him back and forth. Not that this made the slightest bit of difference – it was like he actually was a length of rope, for all the attention his feelings were being paid. If Trev had to be fought over, why couldn’t it be by girls?

Finally, Raf pulled him free of the bully’s grip and he staggered forward, nearly slamming straight into his protector. Luckily, Raf still had his hand on Trev’s shirt, and managed to guide the unsteady youth around behind him, where he couldn’t do any more harm. Trev gasped for air as his shirt was finally released, trying to smooth the creased fabric, giving himself a quick once-over (he could have sworn he heard the sound of tearing while he was being yanked around). His attention was distracted from himself by the sudden commencement of actual violence; his head snapped up as the bully slammed his fist into Raf’s face. Trev paled as his friend went down, looking around to see if any holes had been opened in the crowd through which he might escape (and take Raf with him, before anyone starts casting aspersions!). Yes, his first thought was, as usual, to flee. Raf had different ideas.

"I-I'm sorry Langloth!"

Trev couldn’t help a slight shudder as his roommate partially transformed, every single inherited instinct screaming at him to run and run right now. Still, credit where credit is due, he stayed where he was, unable to help a grin as Raf starting giving his antagonists some serious what-for. He even recovered enough to give the main victim of the tiger incarnate’s avenging wrath a snarkily cheerful, "I forgive you" when he apologised. Wasn’t that nice of him? Trev sympathised, though, under the momentary rubbing the guy’s nose in it. He wouldn’t have hesitated for one second to do whatever was demanded of him if it came from Raf looking as terrifying as he did right now. Thankfully, Raf’s own bullying and general mistreatment of his annoying roommate was largely executed in human form.

"Show’s over, go home people."

Strolling up to stand beside his protector, Trev grinned. "Yeah! We showed him!" Yes, he was including himself in this victory, despite the fact that hadn’t really had anything to do with the victorious part of it. He had given Raf moral support, hadn’t he? That counted for something. It counted for a whole darn lot, thank you very much. He turned his gaze from the direction in which his bullies had fled and grinned at his roommate. "You should take my advishe more often, you know that?" He carefully straightened his shirt and then slipped his hands into his pockets, looking around and then remarking casually, "Want to get that drink now?"

Dark hazel eyes scanned the room, noting how empty it seemed compared to before the fight. He and his friend weren't exactly alone as a few students had decided to stick around to finish their breakfasts while they pretended not to notice the sabre shifter was even there or averted their gaze when he caught them staring at him. Most of the other students were probably scared off by the little show he had just put on and to be honest, he couldn't really blame them. As he dusted himself off once again and adjusted his shirt by pulling on the ends of it, a slight snort escaped him as his friend continued to ramble on beside him. "We? There is no we. I did all the leg work while all you did was get me punched in the face." he retorted as he poked a finger into his friend's rib. Yes, it irked him how Trevor would always include himself in on something when he really had no part in it to begin with. Hell, if it weren't for the crowd, the sloth shifter might've ran off leaving Raf to clean up his mess. Raf didn't really hold it against the blond haired boy however, it was just in his nature to flee instead of fight just like it was in Raf's nature to look at a cow like it was an already chopped up juicy cooked steak.

"We should make it even, Trevor. Let me punch you in the face." he said suddenly as he took a step toward the smaller boy, pulling his arm back with his fist held high as if he really was about to land one smack dab into his friend's nose. When his fist lashed out at the other boy however, instead of punching him, Raf's arm simply wrapped around Trevor's neck, pulling him down into one of the many noogies Raf had dished out over the years. The noogie didn't end until Trevor mentioned getting drinks again and he snorted once again as he finally released the sloth shifter. "Yeah, no sure Trev, I'm awesome thanks for asking. It's not like I just totally took a punch for you or anything. I didn't even feel it." he started to murmur sarcastically, referring to the fact that Trevor hadn't even asked if he was okay after the whole ordeal. "This? It's not even blood. Just some leftover ketchup from my morning breakfast." he joked as he pointed to the split on his bottom lip where the bully's knuckles had had effectively landed. Of course it didn't bother him that Trevor hadn't asked if he was okay. Rafael was a very proud kind of guy and admitting that something hurt pretty much wounded his ego.

Trevor knew he was tough so it didn't really warrant any asking. Still, that didn't mean Raf couldn't crack a joke or two about it. He may have been bitter and grumpy about ninety percent of the time but it didn't mean he didn't know how to have fun. "Come on you spineless little squid." he chuckled as he pulled the blond into another choke hold, noogieing him again as he began leading the way toward his almost forgotten plate of pancakes, sausage, and bacon, dragging the other boy with him before finally letting him go once they reached the table. After pulling out his chair and sitting down again, he poured himself a glass of chocolate milk from one of the many pitchers that had been placed on the table and took a few quick gulps from it before resumed with shoveling pancakes into his mouth, chewing them slowly and thoughtfully. "So although it's not likely that those douche bags will ever bother you again I suggest you refrain from uttering a single 'hello' to them and just ignore them completely from now on." he advised his friend as he picked up a piece of bacon and bit it in half. "You were very lucky this time but I won't always be around to save your pathetic flabby ass you know."

"We? There is no we. I did all the leg work while all you did was get me punched in the face."

The sophomore flinched at the poke, having (naturally) a fairly low tolerance for pain of any kind. He'd almost expected the reaction he got, given that this was the usual way Raf's coming to his aid ended. It was a narrow line they walked, between friends and enemies; on Raf's part, between defending and bullying. In both cases Trev was the victim, but then it was hard to be sorry for him, as it was always (or almost always) a situation of his own hapless making. Taking a step back, potentially out of range of more poking, Trev shrugged his shoulders and raised a finger. "Maybe I didn't do anything per she in the fighting department, but I was... moral shupport, right?" If anyone could spin this to make it seem like Trev had done anything besides managing not to scream like a small female child, it was the sloth-incarnate himself. Or, at the very least, he'd give it his best shot.

"We should make it even, Trevor. Let me punch you in the face."

"What? No!" Trev immediately protested, lifting his hands in a lame attempt at protecting himself. He couldn't be sure whether or not his roommate was serious, after all. Stepping back again had no practical effect whatsoever: Raf just stepped forward himself, covering the distance between them again, and skillfully navigated his arms around Trev's, wrapping one around the shorter boy's neck and pulling him close. The blond knew exactly what was coming now, and he wriggled a little in ineffectual unhappiness with his lot. Okay, so, noogies were way, way better than getting punched in the face (just about everything in the world was better than violence of any kind, which included getting punched in the face) but that didn't mean he had to enjoy them. Trev was eighty-seven percent sure Raf didn't really mean any harm by it, though, so he put up with it (ungraciously) in return for the occasional saving of his ass.

"Yeah, no sure Trev, I'm awesome thanks for asking. It's not like I just totally took a punch for you or anything. I didn't even feel it. This? It's not even blood. Just some leftover ketchup from my morning breakfast."

Staggering a step or two sideways as he was finally released, his head aching and his hair even more of a bird's nest than usual, Trev still managed to roll his eyes at Raf's words. Okay, so neglecting to ask how he was wasn't exactly the pinnacle of friendship-required behaviour, but at least Trev could defend his lapse. Put simply, Raf was a tough guy. Personally, the blond sophmore didn't see the point of tough-guy-ism, unless it was being used to impress a girl. Getting sympathy from people was nice - what was the point of pretending one was invincible? That kind of attitude got people into situations like the one they had just been in; Trev's usual response, sadly inhibited this time by the rapid gathering of the chanting crowd, would have been to flee before the first punch had been thought about. "Aaawww," Trev said, patting his friend's head in the first of what would be, if this encounter was anything like most of their encounters. several thoughtless invasions of Raf's personal space. "Did poor tigey-wigey get a boo-boo?" See? No noogie goes unpunished! Almost immediately, though, Trev took a couple of preemptive steps backwards - just in case.

"Come on you spineless little squid."

When Raf yanked him into another noogie, Trev let out a yelp. "Aaagh, no!" This really wasn't going to be his day, was it? Geez. He resented the comment about being a squid, too, but he was hardly in a position to protest it. For one thing, he had to keep up with Raf as he strolled with his long legs back to his table in the dining room, all while still in the awkward position of the the noogiee. At least it was pretty late in the morning, so the dining hall was fairly empty of witnesses to this humiliating treatment. Raf's little performance only a few moments ago probably had a great deal to do with that, too. Nobody wanted to stick around when one of the big boys went mental. It was like when Beastie-boy Psycho Cyrille exploded into a seven-foot-tall shaggy-furred monster: as much as Nemare's autocrowd loved a show, they alse loved being alive to pass the story on to their friends at the end of it.

"So although it's not likely that those douche bags will ever bother you again I suggest you refrain from uttering a single 'hello' to them and just ignore them completely from now on. You were very lucky this time but I won't always be around to save your pathetic flabby ass you know."

Trev was relieved to be released, rubbing his neck with an injured expression on his face as he took the seat opposite his roommate - hopefully too far away to make a repeat performance too much of a bother. Pouring himself a cup of chocolate milk, he drank deeply as his friend spoke, rolling his eyes. Like he was enough of an idiot to go and antagonise the people who tried to kill him! Never mind that that was essentially what had set this whole incident off. Putting down his glass (revealing a chocolate-milk moustache), he made a face at his so-called friend and poked a finger in his direction. "Okay, number one, I am not flabby. Jusht becaushe I'm not obshesshive about working out like shome people I could mention doesn't mean I'm fat." He held up two fingers as he continued, indicating the number at the appropriate moment. "And number two, I don't need you to look after me. What are you, my mother? I can take care of myshelf, moshtly." Clearly even Trev couldn't let a boldfaced lie like that pass without even a smidgen of qualification. There was hope yet.

A dark eyebrow arched when Trevor had confessed to being there for him with moral support while the sabre shifter was trying to save both their asses. Really? He was gonna try going down that route? "Moral support my ass, I didn't hear any encouragement when I got knocked flat on the floor." he retorted. His eyes narrowed and a grimace twisted his handsome face the moment Trevor's hand started to pat him on the head. As stated many times before, Rafael absolutely hated when people invaded his personal bubble without his permission and Trevor has always been a great offender of that rule, patting him on the head like some kind of a house cat old ladies would keep for pets. He was for one thing, nobody's pet and he was always absolutely appalled to be treated like one. The least Trevor could've done was leave him his dignity but that pretty much went out the window when the sloth shifter started up with the baby talk again. It sounded even worse with the lisp. The moment Trevor's hand made contact with Raf's still wet spiky black hair, the tiger shifter let out a low growl as his eyes followed the movements of the sloth shifter's hand in what seemed like one of those slow-mo moments in a movie.

The hand was as quickly removed as it had been placed on his head before he had enough time to swat at it with his own hands. For a sloth, Trevor was learning pretty quick to back the hell up if he didn't want another head splitting noogie from Raf. Raf was still faster than Trevor was however and ignored the blond's protests in a second noogie as he lead the way back to his table. As he finished chewing up the bacon he had bit off, Raf wiped his hands clean on a napkin before he ran them through his hair, effectively making the ends of it stick straight up after they had been flattened by Trevor's patting of his head, rolling his dark hazel eyes when his friend tried to defend himself against the sabre shifter's insults of being a little on the pudgier side. In all fairness, Trevor indeed wasn't fat. Not by normal standards anyway. The boy was slender and narrow from his head down but his stomach was a bit squishy making his body look like a bottle of sorts. Narrow at the top but rounded at the bottom. Raf had thought of sending the blond to lab to be analyzed many times as that just wasn't normal but their other room mate would always talk him out of it. Beside it wasn't exactly "humane."

"Just because I run every morning to keep my literary spirit from eating you in your sleep doesn't mean I'm obsessed with exercise. It wouldn't kill ya either to come with me every once in a while you know." he retorted with a slight glare as he continued to cut his pancakes which were probably cold by now though he couldn't be bothered to warm them up again. "I mean if you get any flabbier Morgan just might bake you into a pie after all." he pointed out as a matter of factly, referring to a senior girl who seemed to have it especially out for the two of them before he reached across from him over the table and gently poked Trevor's said flab gently with his fork. "Even though I already warned her that a Trevor Pot Pie would just give her really bad gas." he then added with a low chuckle as he settled back down on his seat. At Trevor's number two, Raf had to muster up all his will power not to laugh at the line of bullshit the spewed from Trevor's mouth while the sabre shifter poured himself another glass of milk mainly because if he laughed too hard he might spill the contents of the pitcher in his hand all over himself. He opted to simply smirk, flashing his unusually long canines. "Yeah. Clearly you had the situation handled." he murmured sarcastically as he flashed his friend an all knowing look. "The day you can take care of yourself Trevor is the day I win the lottery and become a gazillionaire."

"Moral support my ass, I didn't hear any encouragement when I got knocked flat on the floor."

The sloth-incarnate sighed, as though he had been deeply wronged. "It washn't loud moral shupport, obvioushly. But I was here, washn't I?" To be frank, this was about the best that Raf could expect. It wasn't like Trev was equipped to be much help in a fight of any kind other than verbal - and it wasn't like a snappy comeback would have helped Raf in any way. In fact, it probably would have only made the situation worse. So, in the end, Trev had been helping by keeping his trap shut - for once in his life. Someone should be giving him a medal, never mind a noogie - although presumably the ceremony would be ended by a fly-past performed by the pigs that had grown wings that morning. Mind you, since this whole situation had been caused by his failure to keep his mouth closed, this heroic feat of epic brilliance was probably cancelled out enough not to count. Damn.

"Just because I run every morning to keep my literary spirit from eating you in your sleep doesn't mean I'm obsessed with exercise. It wouldn't kill ya either to come with me every once in a while you know. I mean if you get any flabbier Morgan just might bake you into a pie after all."

"It might," Trev pointed out, his tone as reasonable as he could make it. "We don't know anything for shure, do we? I might be allergic to morning air, and then you'd have to give me the kishsh of life of shomething." He paused momentarily to make a disgusted face. Getting the kiss of life from Raf - or any other dude for that matter - was not high on his to-do list, thank you very much. It was just a couple of places down from getting the kiss of life from a girl (which was very far down the list itself, being that requiring the kiss of life from anyone meant that his life had to be in peril). His pause allowed Raf to continue, and Trev rolled his eyes at the mention of the senior girl. Naturally, what with her being the school bully and Trev being the school's bullybait, their paths had crossed more than once before, and always unpleasantly for the sophomore. Still, he had a reputation to protect - in his own mind - and therefore didn't even give a theatrical shudder at her name. Instead, he took another sip of his incredibly manly chocolate milk.

"Even though I already warned her that a Trevor Pot Pie would just give her really bad gas."

As he drank, his attention was distracted from Raf long enough for him to lean across the table, fork extended. When the tines of said fork poked into his stomach, Trev yelped and swatted at his hand, nearly spilling his milk. Putting the cup down, he glared across the table at his friend, an expression let down somewhat by the chocolate milk mustache he was still wearing. It was probably thanks to this (well, in some small part, anyway) that Raf continued with his Morgan-related line of conversation. Trev stuck his tongue out at him, a mature response to a mature comment. "Thank you for putting that idea in her head. I'll know who to blame when she and her cronies start chasing me with a casserole dish."

"Yeah. Clearly you had the situation handled. The day you can take care of yourself Trevor is the day I win the lottery and become a gazillionaire."

His lower lip jutted out a little as Raf (accurately) derided any chance that Trev had any idea what he was doing at any given time. Was it really necessary for his friends to mock him almost as much as his more eloquent enemies did? (More eloquent than "Me Tarzan, you Jane" and "Hulk angry... Hulk kill!", by the way.) "Then you better start buying tickets, my bucktoothed compadre," Trev told him, his cocky nature bouncing back almost immediately. He lifted a hand a pointed at Raf as he spoke, for emphasis rather than because he needed to make it clear just who he could possibly be referring to. "'cause one of these days you're going to be out of a job."