The Shiny Happy Comment Ficathon!
Winter is coming; daylight is fleeting; for the students among us, end-of-semester hell is just about to rear its ugly head. What better way to combat such woes than with a super-cheerful comment ficathon?
Ergo:
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Ergo:
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Britta had her plate of stir-fry vegetables centered on her tray just like real food, but she paused and put it down. Her hand slid along Ian's forearm, making him tremble so hard he nearly upended his own tray of napkins and nervously gathered utensils.
"I never could have imagined you'd be so informed on environmental causes," she said wonderingly, walking her fingers up his sweater vest. "It's refreshing to meet a really intelligent man who uses his mind for important questions, not just ways to scam on women."
"Oh, I would never-oh! I-I, never, I appreciate your - rub . . . ing," Ian stammered frantically as Britta's hand slipped closer to his belt.
"HAH! I told you it was an accent thing," Jeff yelped triumphantly. "I just sent him over here to babble nonsense to you with a few key words, and you drank it all up like a crumpet-swallowing . . . crumpet-lover!"
He pulled Ian away from Britta's slow-crawl grope, and got in her face. "Really? Really?! You thought I was fooled by this, when half an hour ago you practically built a gallows for me about this same issue? It was a transparent trap, and you're a transparent man, Jeff, and you've failed!"
"I have not! I'm just getting started! It's not just about the accent, even though I come to this idiot for advice all the time?! Even though I let him help me with my taxes, when he can't balance his own checkbook and as far as I know has never paid taxes in this country?!"
She huffed with her arms crossed over her chest, frowning at the line of hungry students behind their fight. "Then you're the hypocrite, because you're seduced by his accent, not me. I am immune, because even if he knew what to say to me, I'd still find other more irritating men here much more attractive," she said loudly. "I wish I did fall for silly things like accents, but I'm sadly much more perverse."
Jeff's automatic panic upon bridging their nicely-honed gap between Britta and Jeff made him speak quickly and honestly, trying to get them back on safe ground.
"I'll have you know, Ian is very sensitive, and he is always good to me," he said emphatically. "I give him crap, but really, I don't deserve him because he'll do things like this for me and ask nothing in return."
The line started to move around them, like a stream diverting around an obstacle. Britta rolled her eyes and hauled Ian back in to shake his hand.
"Then I congratulate you both," she said caustically. "I wish you every happiness."
Ian mumbled a cowed thank you, but Jeff put am arm proudly around his friend. "Thank you, Britta, we are very happy together." He shoved his arm roughly around Ian's flapping limb, and led him purposefully out of the cafeteria.
"You're very handsome," Jeff murmured under his breath, "and I'm sorry I called you weasel-faced."
Casting a helpless look backward, the gobsmacked man saw the Dean waving a packet of relationship registration forms with a vengeful look. It was one thing to fool a student in borderline inappropriate flirting, but the Dean would never forgive him for stealing Jeff.
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