fic: You Can't Do That At Lunch! [Blake's 7]
Written for: mistraltoes
Fandom: Blake's 7
Cliche: Highschool AU
Length: er... 1,000?
Disclaimer: So not mine. Really.
Notes: ...I have no clue. Really. This is heavily influenced by Monty Python playing in the background.
You Can't Do That At Lunch! (aka Blake's more thanSeven)
by ALC Punk!
"Blake! Look out, you great oaf!"
Laughing, Roger Blake pulled himself upright, narrowly missing knocking into Kevin Avon's stack of books. "Sorry, Av, didn't see you there." Across the table from Blake were two boys, one shortish with blond hair, the other with darker hair and a sallow complexion, and sour look.
"Right." The teen rolled his eyes and shoved his glasses up his nose. "Just like you didn't see the test tube this morning in lab."
"I told you, Avon, you've got to have faith in me."
"No one has faith in you, Blake." This statement was accompanied by a blonde girl, the cigarette dangling from her hand narrowly missing Blake's glass of water as she sat next to him. "Thought you'd remember that." Jenna Stannis was contemptuous of all teenaged boys, her friends notwithstanding.
"Jenna, I'm wounded!" He clapped a hand over his heart and mock-fell off the bench.
She rolled her eyes and took a drag on her cigarette.
"Blake, you're being an ass again." A brunette girl announced as she stopped behind him and smacked his head lightly.
With a groan, Vila Restal tossed down his pen, "Oh, come on, Cally, give it a rest why don't you."
"Vila, just because you're not offended by--"
"Oh, we're not going off into feminist theory again, are we?" Jenna tapped the ash off her cigarette, "'cause I've quite gone off it."
Cally rolled her eyes and slammed her notebook down on the table. "You always have a problem with me, don't you?"
"Girls! Girls, stop fighting. There's enough of me to go around you know," Vila interrupted with a charming grin.
Both of them rolled their eyes.
"Of course there's enough of you, Vila," Dayna Mellenby quipped as she dropped next to Jenna and stole her cigarette. "You keep eating the food they serve here."
"What else do you expect me to eat? Bird food?"
"Children, children," Blake called, banging his fork on the table. "If you're going to bicker wait until later."
"Thinks he's the leader again, does he?" Two more members of the group claimed the last spots, Susan Lin sitting neatly across from Owen Gan. She tossed her head, her blonde ponytail bouncing.
"You have to admit, he usually has good ideas," pointed out Gan before he bit into his hamburger.
"Oh, look, all the freaks are gathered together in one place to make it easier for us to identify them." Cooed the newest girl at the school at them. She was rich, talented, and could get away with anything, to their annoyance. Within a week of joining their school, she'd won over the class presidency, AND the heart of half the boys on campus. Her rather stark white outfit would have looked silly on anyone else, on her it just looked daring.
"Since you're here, Serena, you're included," said Cally with a sneer.
"Cally, Cally, Cally. When will you learn not to talk with your mouth open?" The other girl mocked.
Rolling her eyes, Jenna stubbed out her retrieved cigarette. "Serena, sweetie, your stupidity is showing."
Owen sighed, "Can't we all just get along?"
"Never!" Blake slammed a fist onto the table. "You know what they did to me, Gan. It must be avenged!"
Avon threw a french fry at their de facto leader. "Put a sock in the proselytizing, Blake."
"Learn a new word did you, Avon?" Serena smirked, "It's kind of sexy."
"Madame President." The head of the hockey team slung an arm around her shoulder and smirked at the table. "Are these rabble bothering you?"
"No, Travis," Serena replied sweetly, "They're just all washed-up."
"Bugger off," Cally suggested, almost as sweetly. She threw a balled-up napkin at the prom queen.
"Oh, are you still upset about not being a cheerleader, Cally?"
"It's your fault," the other girl snapped, "Of course. You convinced them I just wasn't pretty enough. When I'm prettier than all of you put together!"
"Oh! Bravo!" Blake led a round of clapping. The others joined in half-heartedly, though Avon just jotted in his notebook.
Serena waited until they'd subsided, then smiled and said, "Don't worry, Cally, you weren't passed over for cheerleader because you're ugly. It was just because you suck and have no school spirit."
"I'm sure."
"Ladies." Vila stood, smiling back and forth between the two of them. "It seems to me--"
"Oh, shut up, Vila, really." snapped Cally.
Blake waved a hand, the french fry he was holding splattering ketchup. "I've got a better idea, let's impeach the class president."
"Oh, you bastard!" Avon grabbed his notebook, leaned across the table, and smacked Blake with it. "You've ruined my notes!"
"Children, the lot of you." With a mocking wave, Serena sashayed off, Travis in tow.
"I hate her. I really hate her," announced Dayna.
"So say we all," muttered Susan.
"Guys!" A breathless boy bounded up to the table. "You'll never guess!"
Blake sighed with resignation, and asked: "Guess what, Tarrant?"
Grinning, his curls bouncing, the boy clapped, "I'm going to pilot the space shuttle!"
"You are?" Avon glared, "But the shuttle is mine!"
"I'm the one who named it," pointed out Jenna, pulling another cigarette from her pack. "I thought that meant I got to pilot?"
"Professor Xen thinks we should share it," David Tarrant replied. He was skinnier than the other boys, but just as energetic (if not more so).
She lit her fag, and sighed. "Fine."
Avon threw his ketchup-soaked napkin at Blake and slammed his notebook closed. "I have things to do that don't involve the rest of you."
"Ooooh," Cally mocked. "Want to feel special today, do we?"
"We could all go together," suggested Blake brightly. "Plan the resistance, make sure prom is sorted out properly."
"I'm not going down with this ship," muttered Jenna, standing and grabbing her bag. "I've got chemistry."
Dayna stood, too. "And I'm off to calculus. C'mon, Vila."
The others made their excuses, leaving Blake alone at the table. He sighed exaggeratedly and thumped a fist onto the formica-covered press board. "Some day, my time will come."
"It will, lad?"
Blake smiled at the older man who'd appeared at the end of the table, "Yes, Professor Rack, it will."
Oliver Rack chuckled, "C'mon, lad. Time for history."
With a sigh, Blake gathered his things and followed. He knew he was doomed to a long class, listening to the professor rattle on about facts and figures until you were bored out of your skull. It was a class no one ever dared ask a question in, for fear of getting more than they bargained for.
But, still, Blake wouldn't trade it for the world. Or even freedom-fighting in the dark of space.
-f-
Fandom: Blake's 7
Cliche: Highschool AU
Length: er... 1,000?
Disclaimer: So not mine. Really.
Notes: ...I have no clue. Really. This is heavily influenced by Monty Python playing in the background.
You Can't Do That At Lunch! (aka Blake's more thanSeven)
by ALC Punk!
"Blake! Look out, you great oaf!"
Laughing, Roger Blake pulled himself upright, narrowly missing knocking into Kevin Avon's stack of books. "Sorry, Av, didn't see you there." Across the table from Blake were two boys, one shortish with blond hair, the other with darker hair and a sallow complexion, and sour look.
"Right." The teen rolled his eyes and shoved his glasses up his nose. "Just like you didn't see the test tube this morning in lab."
"I told you, Avon, you've got to have faith in me."
"No one has faith in you, Blake." This statement was accompanied by a blonde girl, the cigarette dangling from her hand narrowly missing Blake's glass of water as she sat next to him. "Thought you'd remember that." Jenna Stannis was contemptuous of all teenaged boys, her friends notwithstanding.
"Jenna, I'm wounded!" He clapped a hand over his heart and mock-fell off the bench.
She rolled her eyes and took a drag on her cigarette.
"Blake, you're being an ass again." A brunette girl announced as she stopped behind him and smacked his head lightly.
With a groan, Vila Restal tossed down his pen, "Oh, come on, Cally, give it a rest why don't you."
"Vila, just because you're not offended by--"
"Oh, we're not going off into feminist theory again, are we?" Jenna tapped the ash off her cigarette, "'cause I've quite gone off it."
Cally rolled her eyes and slammed her notebook down on the table. "You always have a problem with me, don't you?"
"Girls! Girls, stop fighting. There's enough of me to go around you know," Vila interrupted with a charming grin.
Both of them rolled their eyes.
"Of course there's enough of you, Vila," Dayna Mellenby quipped as she dropped next to Jenna and stole her cigarette. "You keep eating the food they serve here."
"What else do you expect me to eat? Bird food?"
"Children, children," Blake called, banging his fork on the table. "If you're going to bicker wait until later."
"Thinks he's the leader again, does he?" Two more members of the group claimed the last spots, Susan Lin sitting neatly across from Owen Gan. She tossed her head, her blonde ponytail bouncing.
"You have to admit, he usually has good ideas," pointed out Gan before he bit into his hamburger.
"Oh, look, all the freaks are gathered together in one place to make it easier for us to identify them." Cooed the newest girl at the school at them. She was rich, talented, and could get away with anything, to their annoyance. Within a week of joining their school, she'd won over the class presidency, AND the heart of half the boys on campus. Her rather stark white outfit would have looked silly on anyone else, on her it just looked daring.
"Since you're here, Serena, you're included," said Cally with a sneer.
"Cally, Cally, Cally. When will you learn not to talk with your mouth open?" The other girl mocked.
Rolling her eyes, Jenna stubbed out her retrieved cigarette. "Serena, sweetie, your stupidity is showing."
Owen sighed, "Can't we all just get along?"
"Never!" Blake slammed a fist onto the table. "You know what they did to me, Gan. It must be avenged!"
Avon threw a french fry at their de facto leader. "Put a sock in the proselytizing, Blake."
"Learn a new word did you, Avon?" Serena smirked, "It's kind of sexy."
"Madame President." The head of the hockey team slung an arm around her shoulder and smirked at the table. "Are these rabble bothering you?"
"No, Travis," Serena replied sweetly, "They're just all washed-up."
"Bugger off," Cally suggested, almost as sweetly. She threw a balled-up napkin at the prom queen.
"Oh, are you still upset about not being a cheerleader, Cally?"
"It's your fault," the other girl snapped, "Of course. You convinced them I just wasn't pretty enough. When I'm prettier than all of you put together!"
"Oh! Bravo!" Blake led a round of clapping. The others joined in half-heartedly, though Avon just jotted in his notebook.
Serena waited until they'd subsided, then smiled and said, "Don't worry, Cally, you weren't passed over for cheerleader because you're ugly. It was just because you suck and have no school spirit."
"I'm sure."
"Ladies." Vila stood, smiling back and forth between the two of them. "It seems to me--"
"Oh, shut up, Vila, really." snapped Cally.
Blake waved a hand, the french fry he was holding splattering ketchup. "I've got a better idea, let's impeach the class president."
"Oh, you bastard!" Avon grabbed his notebook, leaned across the table, and smacked Blake with it. "You've ruined my notes!"
"Children, the lot of you." With a mocking wave, Serena sashayed off, Travis in tow.
"I hate her. I really hate her," announced Dayna.
"So say we all," muttered Susan.
"Guys!" A breathless boy bounded up to the table. "You'll never guess!"
Blake sighed with resignation, and asked: "Guess what, Tarrant?"
Grinning, his curls bouncing, the boy clapped, "I'm going to pilot the space shuttle!"
"You are?" Avon glared, "But the shuttle is mine!"
"I'm the one who named it," pointed out Jenna, pulling another cigarette from her pack. "I thought that meant I got to pilot?"
"Professor Xen thinks we should share it," David Tarrant replied. He was skinnier than the other boys, but just as energetic (if not more so).
She lit her fag, and sighed. "Fine."
Avon threw his ketchup-soaked napkin at Blake and slammed his notebook closed. "I have things to do that don't involve the rest of you."
"Ooooh," Cally mocked. "Want to feel special today, do we?"
"We could all go together," suggested Blake brightly. "Plan the resistance, make sure prom is sorted out properly."
"I'm not going down with this ship," muttered Jenna, standing and grabbing her bag. "I've got chemistry."
Dayna stood, too. "And I'm off to calculus. C'mon, Vila."
The others made their excuses, leaving Blake alone at the table. He sighed exaggeratedly and thumped a fist onto the formica-covered press board. "Some day, my time will come."
"It will, lad?"
Blake smiled at the older man who'd appeared at the end of the table, "Yes, Professor Rack, it will."
Oliver Rack chuckled, "C'mon, lad. Time for history."
With a sigh, Blake gathered his things and followed. He knew he was doomed to a long class, listening to the professor rattle on about facts and figures until you were bored out of your skull. It was a class no one ever dared ask a question in, for fear of getting more than they bargained for.
But, still, Blake wouldn't trade it for the world. Or even freedom-fighting in the dark of space.
-f-