Game -- The Faculty [Delilah/Casey]
Okay, so I've been sitting on a bunch of fic-stuff, and it's time to let some of it fly free. Go on, then! ::nudges fic::
Game
Title: Game
Author: dessert_first
Rating: R, maybe?
Pairing: Delilah/Casey
Fandom: The Faculty
Spoilers: Um, yeah. For The Faculty. Skip this if you wanna be surprised.
Crib notes: If you haven't watched Robert Rodriguez's The Faculty, it's your basic angsty teens save the world from evil aliens movie. Elijah Wood plays Casey, the geeky kid who gets the crap beat out of him daily. Jordana Brewster plays the snooty rich cheerleader, who also happens to be the bright and snarky editor of the school newspaper. And Portugese!
Game
Delilah isn't one for too much self-analysis. She makes the choices she makes, and she makes them after careful thought and planning, like life is one big game of chess. She's always thinking several moves ahead. But once you've made your move, there's no point beating yourself up over it. Spilt milk and all--just get the fuck over it, already.
So how she ended up with Casey Connor, being one of the few relatively spontaneous life choices she's made, still perplexes her on occasion.
More like on a daily basis.
She made him fix his hair and clothes, of course, and he's lost that kicked puppy look he used to have. And it's not like it's news that he's a fixer-upper kind of boyfriend; she knew that going in, and most guys are anyway, to get to Delilah's standards. Stan certainly was, before he went all Free to be Me and decided de-jock himself.
It's all a little mystifying, but Delilah isn't sure if it would be more comforting or disturbing to unravel it all and find Marybeth at the center of it, somehow making Delilah think she feels--whatever it is she feels.
Sometimes, when she's straddling Casey, moving around in those killing little circles they like, it's almost too much. She makes him close his eyes, just so she can avoid the intensity of that unflinching blue gaze.
Unnerving, is more like it.
He does it, but he doesn't like to. He likes to look; it's why he became a photographer. Likes to look at Delilah.
Most times she lets him look his fill, 'till all she sees in those eyes is her own reflection, and she... she doesn't not like it. No one's ever made her feel quite as beautiful as Casey does.
She caught him looking at himself naked in her bedroom mirror one lazy afternoon on the maid's day off, while Delilah's mother was working on her tan in the Riviera. Casey kept turning, trailing slim fingers over his pale skin as he examined his reflection.
"What is it?" Delilah had asked, leafing through Vogue as she reclined against the headboard. Delilah hates Vogue, but it contains important fashion information, and in some circles keeping up with that kind of thing is cutthroat necessary.
Casey had blushed. "It's just... strange. My body," he elaborated at her impatient 'Get on with it' gesture. "I'm still not used to seeing it unmarked."
Delilah quirked an eyebrow. "Unmarked?"
"Well, yeah. Usually it was all I could do to cover up the bruises and stuff, from the jerks at school. Nobody kicks me around anymore, though, so..." Casey shrugged. "Brand new, non-discolored body. Kinda strange."
Delilah narrowed her eyes. Casey might have been a little geek in ugly shirts, but that didn't mean people could go around beating the crap out of him. Even if she hadn't actually cared at the time, in retrospect, she's really fucking pissed at those guys.
Having Casey is like having her very own porcelain doll, complete with the thick-lashed eyes that slide shut when you lie them down, even though Delilah gave up dolls long ago in favor of trendier pursuits. He's a tiny, perfect replica of a man, soft and hard and flawless. She can do what she likes with him.
Delilah was never one to poke her doll's eyes out or scribble on them with magic markers. She never feels tempted to wrench Casey's head off. But she does like to look at him, tiny perfect replica of a man, almost as much--hell, probably just as damn much as Casey likes to look at Delilah. She just does a better job of hiding it.
If he misses being marked, though, Delilah just might be able to help him out in that area. In the heightened press-frenzy time after the whole alien thing, when he was healing from Marybeth's last-ditch attack, she noticed he would unconsciously press into the bruises, wedge his stubby fingernails into the scratches. She didn't think much of it at the time, but she did file it away for further analysis, like a good reporter should.
Delilah's made her move, and maybe this is the endgame. Or maybe she and Casey are just getting ready to set up the board for another match. Delilah has a feeling it will be very interesting, either way; guaranteed to keep her on her toes.
The next time her mother is out of town, Delilah gives the maid the week off and invites Casey over. She's bought some pretty new playthings she thinks he'll like.
Also, this Sunday was the Day of Mad Baking. Chocolate cake with vanilla frosting and chocolate glaze, one simple eight-inch cake for a friend's birthday, one identical but larger cake further decorated with coconut flakes and cherry jam for my coworkers. And all vegan.
::hugs cocoa powder::
::gets messy::
Game
Title: Game
Author: dessert_first
Rating: R, maybe?
Pairing: Delilah/Casey
Fandom: The Faculty
Spoilers: Um, yeah. For The Faculty. Skip this if you wanna be surprised.
Crib notes: If you haven't watched Robert Rodriguez's The Faculty, it's your basic angsty teens save the world from evil aliens movie. Elijah Wood plays Casey, the geeky kid who gets the crap beat out of him daily. Jordana Brewster plays the snooty rich cheerleader, who also happens to be the bright and snarky editor of the school newspaper. And Portugese!
Game
Delilah isn't one for too much self-analysis. She makes the choices she makes, and she makes them after careful thought and planning, like life is one big game of chess. She's always thinking several moves ahead. But once you've made your move, there's no point beating yourself up over it. Spilt milk and all--just get the fuck over it, already.
So how she ended up with Casey Connor, being one of the few relatively spontaneous life choices she's made, still perplexes her on occasion.
More like on a daily basis.
She made him fix his hair and clothes, of course, and he's lost that kicked puppy look he used to have. And it's not like it's news that he's a fixer-upper kind of boyfriend; she knew that going in, and most guys are anyway, to get to Delilah's standards. Stan certainly was, before he went all Free to be Me and decided de-jock himself.
It's all a little mystifying, but Delilah isn't sure if it would be more comforting or disturbing to unravel it all and find Marybeth at the center of it, somehow making Delilah think she feels--whatever it is she feels.
Sometimes, when she's straddling Casey, moving around in those killing little circles they like, it's almost too much. She makes him close his eyes, just so she can avoid the intensity of that unflinching blue gaze.
Unnerving, is more like it.
He does it, but he doesn't like to. He likes to look; it's why he became a photographer. Likes to look at Delilah.
Most times she lets him look his fill, 'till all she sees in those eyes is her own reflection, and she... she doesn't not like it. No one's ever made her feel quite as beautiful as Casey does.
She caught him looking at himself naked in her bedroom mirror one lazy afternoon on the maid's day off, while Delilah's mother was working on her tan in the Riviera. Casey kept turning, trailing slim fingers over his pale skin as he examined his reflection.
"What is it?" Delilah had asked, leafing through Vogue as she reclined against the headboard. Delilah hates Vogue, but it contains important fashion information, and in some circles keeping up with that kind of thing is cutthroat necessary.
Casey had blushed. "It's just... strange. My body," he elaborated at her impatient 'Get on with it' gesture. "I'm still not used to seeing it unmarked."
Delilah quirked an eyebrow. "Unmarked?"
"Well, yeah. Usually it was all I could do to cover up the bruises and stuff, from the jerks at school. Nobody kicks me around anymore, though, so..." Casey shrugged. "Brand new, non-discolored body. Kinda strange."
Delilah narrowed her eyes. Casey might have been a little geek in ugly shirts, but that didn't mean people could go around beating the crap out of him. Even if she hadn't actually cared at the time, in retrospect, she's really fucking pissed at those guys.
Having Casey is like having her very own porcelain doll, complete with the thick-lashed eyes that slide shut when you lie them down, even though Delilah gave up dolls long ago in favor of trendier pursuits. He's a tiny, perfect replica of a man, soft and hard and flawless. She can do what she likes with him.
Delilah was never one to poke her doll's eyes out or scribble on them with magic markers. She never feels tempted to wrench Casey's head off. But she does like to look at him, tiny perfect replica of a man, almost as much--hell, probably just as damn much as Casey likes to look at Delilah. She just does a better job of hiding it.
If he misses being marked, though, Delilah just might be able to help him out in that area. In the heightened press-frenzy time after the whole alien thing, when he was healing from Marybeth's last-ditch attack, she noticed he would unconsciously press into the bruises, wedge his stubby fingernails into the scratches. She didn't think much of it at the time, but she did file it away for further analysis, like a good reporter should.
Delilah's made her move, and maybe this is the endgame. Or maybe she and Casey are just getting ready to set up the board for another match. Delilah has a feeling it will be very interesting, either way; guaranteed to keep her on her toes.
The next time her mother is out of town, Delilah gives the maid the week off and invites Casey over. She's bought some pretty new playthings she thinks he'll like.
Also, this Sunday was the Day of Mad Baking. Chocolate cake with vanilla frosting and chocolate glaze, one simple eight-inch cake for a friend's birthday, one identical but larger cake further decorated with coconut flakes and cherry jam for my coworkers. And all vegan.
::hugs cocoa powder::
::gets messy::