PG-15
Some people get drunk, some people fail to have sex, and Shell wears clean clothes. Crazy, crazy shit. Basically what happened when Jamal made Shell take Rex out to see some nightlife. Everyone's in this one! Candy has a regrettably brief appearance that I will have to make up for soon. I love that girl so much.
Oh, and about 80% of this as written for my own sick, fangirlish amusement. You will see what I mean.
Rex was, in general, a well-tempered, fairly imperturbable person. Level-headed to a fault, ze did not often get upset.
Tonight was different. “You want me to go clubbing?” ze gaped at Jamal. “Me?”
“It isn’t clubbing, nobody says that these days. You’re just going out to have fun. A night on the town. It’ll be good for you,” Jamal said firmly. “Shell will keep you out of trouble.”
“Who’ll keep him out of trouble?”
“I’m sure that someone will turn up,” Jamal said, smiling in a way that would be smug if Jamal was ever perceptibly smug.
“Jamal, I don’t like crowds, I don’t like alcohol, and I don’t like noise. Why is this a good idea?”
“You need to socialize. Meet people. Sarah’s going with you.”
“What?” Sarah yelled from the back room. “I was not informed!”
“You’re both unwilling victims in my evil little games,” Jamal said cheerily. “Now put on some nice clothes. Shell will be here in five minutes and twenty seconds, and he’s going to be impatient, because he’s had a strange day full of sexual tension.”
Rex stopped in hir tracks. “Wait, what? Oh. OH! So they…”
Jamal raised an eyebrow and sipped his tea. “Ask Shell when he comes.”
“I’m not an idiot, Jamal. Violent death is low on my list of priorities for today.”
Five minutes and twenty seconds later, the bell tinkled and Shell walked in. For once he was not wearing his grey sweater.
“Why do your pants have straps on them?” Rex asked, as politely as possible.
“Rex. Do you ever leave the bookshop? Seriously, that’s fucking ridiculous,” Shell said. “I am allowed to look nice if I want to.”
Rex privately thought that “nice” was tuxedos and ballroom dresses, not bondage pants and tight shirts. But xe kept that to hirself. “What’s Zero?” xe asked, pointing at Shell’s shirt.
“It’s a song by the Smashing Pumpkins,” Shell said. “I do not limit myself to Lennon and company.”
“Do I have to dress like that?” Sarah said as she came out of the bathroom. “It’s just I left my handcuffs and date rape drugs at home.”
Shell made a rude gesture that Sarah had not actually seen before that night. Jamal snorted, then tried to look serious. “That’s not appropriate.”
“Hey! You want me to take them out, now you say I have to censor myself?” Shell protested.
“So why are you looking nice?” Rex asked, as they were shunted out the door.
“Not for you,” Shell said, rolling his eyes.
“Only Jamal said something happened.”
Shell glared at hir. “Oh, shut up. Let’s go.”
Rex was kind of surprised that they didn’t get any strange looks on the subway. Maybe they didn’t look so odd, after all.
As soon as they got off the train, however, ze began to have serious misgivings. They appeared to be headed for a squat, dirty building with a suspicious, perfect-for-mugging-or-rape alleyway directly next to it. There was a dull thumping sound emanating from the doorway, probably some kind of music. A girl in altogether not enough clothes was sitting outside, smoking and chatting up whoever walked past.
“Shell…” Sarah said. “Is this really a, you know… I mean, are we going to get, like, shanked?”
“You’re cute when you’re trembling,” Shell said flippantly. “Calm the fuck down. At least act like you know what you’re doing.”
Rex wasn’t sure, but xe thought that pretending to know what you were doing just ended up causing books to be horribly misplaced, forming those famous “bookstore black holes”.
“This is a pretty nice place, really,” Shell added. “It looks better inside. Jamal made me promise to keep you two out of, and I quote, ‘the dives you usually hang out in.’ ”
“Well. What a relief,” Sarah said dryly.
Shell shrugged and headed in. Rex and Sarah stared at each other, then hurried after him.
It really was nicer inside, at least in terms of sketchiness. In terms of lots of people, loud noises, and explosive music, it was less than desirable.
Rex looked over at Sarah, who was looking only marginally less jumpy than she had at the concert. Shell had already located the bar and a glass, and seemed to be enjoying himself. They sat at the bar next to him. “Oh, hell, do I have to buy science girl a drink? How old are you, anyway?”
“Seventeen,” Sarah said.
“What do you want? A beer or what?”
“She’s underage,” Rex pointed out.
“I said I’d buy it for her if she wants one.”
“You’re sort of missing the point.”
“I’ll have a soda,” Sarah said crossly. “Someone needs to keep you in line.”
“You’re both incredibly boring,” Shell commented.
They sat in relative silence. Sarah tried to remember page fifty-nine of her new biology textbook. Rex thought longingly of hot cups of tea and hir hammer dulcimer, which was gathering dust as they sat there.
“Someone is staring at you. They look kind of upset to see you,” Rex finally told Shell. The werecat put down the half-empty glass.
“Where?”
“Over there…” The person was in the corner of the bar, slumped over what looked like several hours’ worth of hard alcohol.
“Oh my fucking Christ,” Shell blasphemed with apparent joy. “What’s he doing here?”
“Is he that werewolf?” Rex asked.
“Yeah. Sonuvvabitch. What are the odds?”
“Twenty-eight to one,” Sarah said.
“Really?”
“I made it up.”
Shell passed Rex his drink. “Here. I’m going to talk to him. You can have it.”
Which was in retrospect a bad idea altogether.
“Um,” said Shell. “Hey.”
“Oh, shit, this was the worst day ever,” Robin said, squinting at him. “And now you’re here. Fuck…”
“Yeah? You wanna talk about it?” Shell offered.
“I’m gay. I think. Maybe. Pretend I didn’t say that. Oh, my fucking god, I do not need this right now.”
Shell, displaying more tact than was usual, fanned his hand discreetly in front of his face. Then, throwing tact to the wind and giving it the finger as it blew away, he said, “You smell like a brewery. And other things we will not discuss.”
“Nice pants,” Robin said. The sensible voice in his head notified him of an impending hangover the size of a Volkswagon, with a ninety-three percent chance of towering shame and regret.
“Do you want a glass of water?” Shell asked. “You’re going to throw up either way, and then you won’t be dehydrated. These are my nice pants. Don’t get puke on them.”
“I am not going to throw up,” Robin announced. “I am completely - What’s the word?”
“Hammered,” Shell snapped. He was not patient on the best of days.
“You look nice with your hair in a ponytail,” Robin observed. “A lot less sketchy.”
Shell said, “You’re going to be sick.”
“Bull.”
“Any second now,” Shell grabbed the werewolf’s arm. “Come on. Alley. Don’t get it all over the floor.”
They made it to the alley. Shell held Robin’s jacket. “You done?”
“Ugh…”
“Stupid bastard. Come on. I’m taking you home,” Shell sighed.
“What?”
“You can’t drive, you dumbass, not like that. I’ll go get Rex and Sarah and we can leave. Just sit tight and don’t get your ass mugged.”
Robin sat on the steps and waited.
“The point is, dolphins,” Rex was explaining to a growing crowd. “They’ve got bloody big brains, you see.”
“Science Girl? Rex? We’re leaving,” Shell interrupted.
Sarah was trying to make holes in the table by glaring at it. “Ze’s been like this for the last twenty minutes. You were kind of gone for a while. Ze had something colorful in a glass.”
“Oh, Jesus fuck, I don’t have time for this!” Shell elbowed his way through the crowd and pulled Rex away. “C’mon. We’re leaving.”
“What’s going on? I was explaining the apocalypse. Ocean gumbo.”
“Take care of hir, Science Girl.”
“That’s Biology Girl,” Sarah muttered.
Rex continued to ramble in a vaguely confused and apparently directionless stream as they left. When they reached the steps, they discovered that Robin was already asleep. Shell rolled his eyes, and, with very little apparent effort, picked the werewolf up. “Let’s go. Good thing you didn’t have that beer, I suppose.”
“You think so?” Sarah said scathingly.
They got to the bookshop rather late. Jamal opened the door and started to laugh. Shell glared at him. “Is this my penance?”
“Consider your debt paid,” Jamal said. “Candy, do you have your camera phone on you?”
“Do you know where this guy lives?” Shell shifted his grip on Robin.
“How would I know something like that?”
Sarah brought Rex inside. Jamal made them both drink giant cups of tea. A minute before the kettle boiled, he had a vision, and didn’t stop laughing the whole night.
Robin woke up in a completely unfamiliar apartment. He was sleeping in a strange bed. He smelled like booze. He also had a large blank spot where memories of last night were concerned. What have I gotten myself into?
There were two Asprins and a glass of water on the bedside table. He was grateful, because his head felt like his brain was made of sandpaper and was rubbing up against his eyeballs.
The water cleared his head. Something about this room was familiar. Nothing he could see, but something had caught his attention…
He closed his eyes and smelled the sheets.
Hey, Robin? This is that smart voice you never listen to. What does that smell like to you?
No. No way did I- Did we-
He rolled over. Someone was wrapped in a cocoon of sheets and blankets. He couldn’t see their face, but that hair was unmistakable.
Oh. My. God.
Someone opened the door. “Thought I heard something. You’re awake? He usually doesn’t get up ‘til noon, if he’s had someone over. I’m Shell’s roommate. I guess we’ll be seeing each other a lot, huh? What’s your name?”
It was really a pity that Shell wasn’t awake to see the look on Robin’s face.
Oh, and about 80% of this as written for my own sick, fangirlish amusement. You will see what I mean.
Rex was, in general, a well-tempered, fairly imperturbable person. Level-headed to a fault, ze did not often get upset.
Tonight was different. “You want me to go clubbing?” ze gaped at Jamal. “Me?”
“It isn’t clubbing, nobody says that these days. You’re just going out to have fun. A night on the town. It’ll be good for you,” Jamal said firmly. “Shell will keep you out of trouble.”
“Who’ll keep him out of trouble?”
“I’m sure that someone will turn up,” Jamal said, smiling in a way that would be smug if Jamal was ever perceptibly smug.
“Jamal, I don’t like crowds, I don’t like alcohol, and I don’t like noise. Why is this a good idea?”
“You need to socialize. Meet people. Sarah’s going with you.”
“What?” Sarah yelled from the back room. “I was not informed!”
“You’re both unwilling victims in my evil little games,” Jamal said cheerily. “Now put on some nice clothes. Shell will be here in five minutes and twenty seconds, and he’s going to be impatient, because he’s had a strange day full of sexual tension.”
Rex stopped in hir tracks. “Wait, what? Oh. OH! So they…”
Jamal raised an eyebrow and sipped his tea. “Ask Shell when he comes.”
“I’m not an idiot, Jamal. Violent death is low on my list of priorities for today.”
Five minutes and twenty seconds later, the bell tinkled and Shell walked in. For once he was not wearing his grey sweater.
“Why do your pants have straps on them?” Rex asked, as politely as possible.
“Rex. Do you ever leave the bookshop? Seriously, that’s fucking ridiculous,” Shell said. “I am allowed to look nice if I want to.”
Rex privately thought that “nice” was tuxedos and ballroom dresses, not bondage pants and tight shirts. But xe kept that to hirself. “What’s Zero?” xe asked, pointing at Shell’s shirt.
“It’s a song by the Smashing Pumpkins,” Shell said. “I do not limit myself to Lennon and company.”
“Do I have to dress like that?” Sarah said as she came out of the bathroom. “It’s just I left my handcuffs and date rape drugs at home.”
Shell made a rude gesture that Sarah had not actually seen before that night. Jamal snorted, then tried to look serious. “That’s not appropriate.”
“Hey! You want me to take them out, now you say I have to censor myself?” Shell protested.
“So why are you looking nice?” Rex asked, as they were shunted out the door.
“Not for you,” Shell said, rolling his eyes.
“Only Jamal said something happened.”
Shell glared at hir. “Oh, shut up. Let’s go.”
Rex was kind of surprised that they didn’t get any strange looks on the subway. Maybe they didn’t look so odd, after all.
As soon as they got off the train, however, ze began to have serious misgivings. They appeared to be headed for a squat, dirty building with a suspicious, perfect-for-mugging-or-rape alleyway directly next to it. There was a dull thumping sound emanating from the doorway, probably some kind of music. A girl in altogether not enough clothes was sitting outside, smoking and chatting up whoever walked past.
“Shell…” Sarah said. “Is this really a, you know… I mean, are we going to get, like, shanked?”
“You’re cute when you’re trembling,” Shell said flippantly. “Calm the fuck down. At least act like you know what you’re doing.”
Rex wasn’t sure, but xe thought that pretending to know what you were doing just ended up causing books to be horribly misplaced, forming those famous “bookstore black holes”.
“This is a pretty nice place, really,” Shell added. “It looks better inside. Jamal made me promise to keep you two out of, and I quote, ‘the dives you usually hang out in.’ ”
“Well. What a relief,” Sarah said dryly.
Shell shrugged and headed in. Rex and Sarah stared at each other, then hurried after him.
It really was nicer inside, at least in terms of sketchiness. In terms of lots of people, loud noises, and explosive music, it was less than desirable.
Rex looked over at Sarah, who was looking only marginally less jumpy than she had at the concert. Shell had already located the bar and a glass, and seemed to be enjoying himself. They sat at the bar next to him. “Oh, hell, do I have to buy science girl a drink? How old are you, anyway?”
“Seventeen,” Sarah said.
“What do you want? A beer or what?”
“She’s underage,” Rex pointed out.
“I said I’d buy it for her if she wants one.”
“You’re sort of missing the point.”
“I’ll have a soda,” Sarah said crossly. “Someone needs to keep you in line.”
“You’re both incredibly boring,” Shell commented.
They sat in relative silence. Sarah tried to remember page fifty-nine of her new biology textbook. Rex thought longingly of hot cups of tea and hir hammer dulcimer, which was gathering dust as they sat there.
“Someone is staring at you. They look kind of upset to see you,” Rex finally told Shell. The werecat put down the half-empty glass.
“Where?”
“Over there…” The person was in the corner of the bar, slumped over what looked like several hours’ worth of hard alcohol.
“Oh my fucking Christ,” Shell blasphemed with apparent joy. “What’s he doing here?”
“Is he that werewolf?” Rex asked.
“Yeah. Sonuvvabitch. What are the odds?”
“Twenty-eight to one,” Sarah said.
“Really?”
“I made it up.”
Shell passed Rex his drink. “Here. I’m going to talk to him. You can have it.”
Which was in retrospect a bad idea altogether.
“Um,” said Shell. “Hey.”
“Oh, shit, this was the worst day ever,” Robin said, squinting at him. “And now you’re here. Fuck…”
“Yeah? You wanna talk about it?” Shell offered.
“I’m gay. I think. Maybe. Pretend I didn’t say that. Oh, my fucking god, I do not need this right now.”
Shell, displaying more tact than was usual, fanned his hand discreetly in front of his face. Then, throwing tact to the wind and giving it the finger as it blew away, he said, “You smell like a brewery. And other things we will not discuss.”
“Nice pants,” Robin said. The sensible voice in his head notified him of an impending hangover the size of a Volkswagon, with a ninety-three percent chance of towering shame and regret.
“Do you want a glass of water?” Shell asked. “You’re going to throw up either way, and then you won’t be dehydrated. These are my nice pants. Don’t get puke on them.”
“I am not going to throw up,” Robin announced. “I am completely - What’s the word?”
“Hammered,” Shell snapped. He was not patient on the best of days.
“You look nice with your hair in a ponytail,” Robin observed. “A lot less sketchy.”
Shell said, “You’re going to be sick.”
“Bull.”
“Any second now,” Shell grabbed the werewolf’s arm. “Come on. Alley. Don’t get it all over the floor.”
They made it to the alley. Shell held Robin’s jacket. “You done?”
“Ugh…”
“Stupid bastard. Come on. I’m taking you home,” Shell sighed.
“What?”
“You can’t drive, you dumbass, not like that. I’ll go get Rex and Sarah and we can leave. Just sit tight and don’t get your ass mugged.”
Robin sat on the steps and waited.
“The point is, dolphins,” Rex was explaining to a growing crowd. “They’ve got bloody big brains, you see.”
“Science Girl? Rex? We’re leaving,” Shell interrupted.
Sarah was trying to make holes in the table by glaring at it. “Ze’s been like this for the last twenty minutes. You were kind of gone for a while. Ze had something colorful in a glass.”
“Oh, Jesus fuck, I don’t have time for this!” Shell elbowed his way through the crowd and pulled Rex away. “C’mon. We’re leaving.”
“What’s going on? I was explaining the apocalypse. Ocean gumbo.”
“Take care of hir, Science Girl.”
“That’s Biology Girl,” Sarah muttered.
Rex continued to ramble in a vaguely confused and apparently directionless stream as they left. When they reached the steps, they discovered that Robin was already asleep. Shell rolled his eyes, and, with very little apparent effort, picked the werewolf up. “Let’s go. Good thing you didn’t have that beer, I suppose.”
“You think so?” Sarah said scathingly.
They got to the bookshop rather late. Jamal opened the door and started to laugh. Shell glared at him. “Is this my penance?”
“Consider your debt paid,” Jamal said. “Candy, do you have your camera phone on you?”
“Do you know where this guy lives?” Shell shifted his grip on Robin.
“How would I know something like that?”
Sarah brought Rex inside. Jamal made them both drink giant cups of tea. A minute before the kettle boiled, he had a vision, and didn’t stop laughing the whole night.
Robin woke up in a completely unfamiliar apartment. He was sleeping in a strange bed. He smelled like booze. He also had a large blank spot where memories of last night were concerned. What have I gotten myself into?
There were two Asprins and a glass of water on the bedside table. He was grateful, because his head felt like his brain was made of sandpaper and was rubbing up against his eyeballs.
The water cleared his head. Something about this room was familiar. Nothing he could see, but something had caught his attention…
He closed his eyes and smelled the sheets.
Hey, Robin? This is that smart voice you never listen to. What does that smell like to you?
No. No way did I- Did we-
He rolled over. Someone was wrapped in a cocoon of sheets and blankets. He couldn’t see their face, but that hair was unmistakable.
Oh. My. God.
Someone opened the door. “Thought I heard something. You’re awake? He usually doesn’t get up ‘til noon, if he’s had someone over. I’m Shell’s roommate. I guess we’ll be seeing each other a lot, huh? What’s your name?”
It was really a pity that Shell wasn’t awake to see the look on Robin’s face.