Dolls - drabble for early September 2008
Title: Dolls
Universe: DC standard
Genre: Humor? Fight?
Rating: General Audiences
Characters/Pairings: Tim Drake (before “A Lonely Place of Dying”)
Word Count: 499
Warnings: ’80s slang and technology
Summary: At Somerset School for Boys, the totally awesome thing about getting Tim Drake as a new roommate is all those wonderful toys.
Dolls
We knew Drake was going to be a totally rad sixth-form roommate when he opened his boxes. On top was a camera case.
“Awesome!” Frobisher said. “Can I touch it? Can I look through it?”
“Sure.” Drake shrugged. “My mom gave it to me. I’m still learning how it works.”
“I’ll show you if I can borrow it sometimes.” Frobisher twiddled the dials. “And I can teach you how to develop photos. I’m head of the Camera Club. We need more guys. What’s bogus about Somerset School is everyone’s into team sports, nothing interesting...”
I’d heard that speech so many times since Frobisher and I became roommates. I was more interested in Drake’s PC, so I helped him unpack the cords and accessories. He even had a modem-9600 baud. “Bitchin’!”
“As you can tell,” Frobisher said, “Pratt’s in the Computer Club. Which should get mega-respect, since that’s where the money is, but-Uh-oh.”
I looked up to see what was heinous enough to make Frobisher stop talking. Drake had put two plastic dolls on the shelf over his desk: one black, one all different colors. “Batman and Robin” dolls, made for little kids and Gotham tourists.
“You shouldn’t let anyone else see those,” said Frobisher. “Sixth-formers here don’t play with dolls.”
“I don’t play with them. I just...like them,” said Drake. “And they’re not dolls. They’re-”
“I’m saying this for your own good, Drake. If some guys find out-”
“New kid!” bellowed a voice from the hall. Without even thinking, Frobisher and I stepped back from Drake’s desk.
Reardon swaggered in, Burton right behind him. In public schools, wastoids get to repeat a grade. At Somerset, they get to be on the wrestling team.
“Third nerd’s got his own computer,” Reardon told Burton.
Burton smirked. “And he’s got dolls!”
“What did I tell you?” muttered Frobisher.
“Shut up, Froufrou,” said Reardon.
“They’re not dolls,” said Drake. “They’re-”
Reardon grabbed the colored one. “This one’s got no pants. You like undressing dolls, perv?”
“That’s his uniform,” said Drake. “Put him down, please.”
“Bite me.” Reardon held the Robin doll over his head. And of course he was, like, twice our height. As Drake reached up, Burton snatched the Batman doll. Reardon snickered. “Toss it here.”
Burton threw. Drake jumped onto his bed and bounced toward the ceiling. In midair he grabbed the Batman, and then landed beside Reardon.
“Smooth move, Flashdance. But I still got your-uggh!”
Drake had given him a karate chop in the neck. He bent back Reardon’s wrist and twisted his Robin away. Then he stepped back, teeth clenched. “Get out of our room.”
Reardon slouched toward the door. Burton followed. Before Reardon disappeared, he said, “I’m watching you, Drake.” It would have been scarier if he hadn’t been croaking.
It took five seconds for Frobisher to start talking: “That was so excellent! You’ve got to start a Karate Club, Drake! No one’ll ride you about those dolls now-”
“They’re not dolls,” said Drake. “They’re action figures.”
Universe: DC standard
Genre: Humor? Fight?
Rating: General Audiences
Characters/Pairings: Tim Drake (before “A Lonely Place of Dying”)
Word Count: 499
Warnings: ’80s slang and technology
Summary: At Somerset School for Boys, the totally awesome thing about getting Tim Drake as a new roommate is all those wonderful toys.
Dolls
We knew Drake was going to be a totally rad sixth-form roommate when he opened his boxes. On top was a camera case.
“Awesome!” Frobisher said. “Can I touch it? Can I look through it?”
“Sure.” Drake shrugged. “My mom gave it to me. I’m still learning how it works.”
“I’ll show you if I can borrow it sometimes.” Frobisher twiddled the dials. “And I can teach you how to develop photos. I’m head of the Camera Club. We need more guys. What’s bogus about Somerset School is everyone’s into team sports, nothing interesting...”
I’d heard that speech so many times since Frobisher and I became roommates. I was more interested in Drake’s PC, so I helped him unpack the cords and accessories. He even had a modem-9600 baud. “Bitchin’!”
“As you can tell,” Frobisher said, “Pratt’s in the Computer Club. Which should get mega-respect, since that’s where the money is, but-Uh-oh.”
I looked up to see what was heinous enough to make Frobisher stop talking. Drake had put two plastic dolls on the shelf over his desk: one black, one all different colors. “Batman and Robin” dolls, made for little kids and Gotham tourists.
“You shouldn’t let anyone else see those,” said Frobisher. “Sixth-formers here don’t play with dolls.”
“I don’t play with them. I just...like them,” said Drake. “And they’re not dolls. They’re-”
“I’m saying this for your own good, Drake. If some guys find out-”
“New kid!” bellowed a voice from the hall. Without even thinking, Frobisher and I stepped back from Drake’s desk.
Reardon swaggered in, Burton right behind him. In public schools, wastoids get to repeat a grade. At Somerset, they get to be on the wrestling team.
“Third nerd’s got his own computer,” Reardon told Burton.
Burton smirked. “And he’s got dolls!”
“What did I tell you?” muttered Frobisher.
“Shut up, Froufrou,” said Reardon.
“They’re not dolls,” said Drake. “They’re-”
Reardon grabbed the colored one. “This one’s got no pants. You like undressing dolls, perv?”
“That’s his uniform,” said Drake. “Put him down, please.”
“Bite me.” Reardon held the Robin doll over his head. And of course he was, like, twice our height. As Drake reached up, Burton snatched the Batman doll. Reardon snickered. “Toss it here.”
Burton threw. Drake jumped onto his bed and bounced toward the ceiling. In midair he grabbed the Batman, and then landed beside Reardon.
“Smooth move, Flashdance. But I still got your-uggh!”
Drake had given him a karate chop in the neck. He bent back Reardon’s wrist and twisted his Robin away. Then he stepped back, teeth clenched. “Get out of our room.”
Reardon slouched toward the door. Burton followed. Before Reardon disappeared, he said, “I’m watching you, Drake.” It would have been scarier if he hadn’t been croaking.
It took five seconds for Frobisher to start talking: “That was so excellent! You’ve got to start a Karate Club, Drake! No one’ll ride you about those dolls now-”
“They’re not dolls,” said Drake. “They’re action figures.”