[Caliban Leandros Series]: Shopping; With Caliban Leandros
Title: Shopping; With Caliban Leandros
Fandom: Caliban Leandros Series
Summary: It's Niko's birthday, and Robin is helping Cal shop. Of course, nothing is ever that simple. Written for Yuletide 2009 for amaresu.
“No, Robin, I am not going to get Niko a man thong for his birthday.” Caliban rubbed his forehead. “And if you suggest it one more time I might have to shoot you.”
“You said you were out of ideas. I offered to help. You accepted.”
“I love humiliating Niko as much as the next person. But never, never, will I stoop that low. Not even me. And that is saying something. Let’s go to Radio Shack and get him a robot dog, or something.”
“Cal. Don’t tell me you’re getting your favorite older brother a robot dog for his twenty-fifth. Might as well get a new carpet. Or a dishwasher.”
“He’d love that, actually. Out of my price range, though.” Cal shoved his hands in his pockets. “Come on, Robin. You’ve been buying presents for millennia. You’ve got to have better ideas.”
“Mostly,” Robin said, with a grin, “People buy me the presents. And it was mostly booze and pretty virgins. I don’t think Niko would go for either of those. That leaves the man thong. God, Cal, what are you going to get for me? New socks?”
“Shut up, Robin. I’m not going to get you anything. I have to get him something special. Be helpful, for once in your puckly life.”
“Puckish, thank you. The correct adjective is ‘puckish.’”
“Cry me a river,” muttered Cal, and stumped toward the door, giving the polite saleslady wishing him good afternoon a deadly glare. Robin flashed her a smile and a wink that made everything better.
“Creepist,” Caliban muttered, and Robin whacked his shoulder.
“Hey, shut up. I’m helping.” He paused, shaking his hand a little. “-are you carrying a gun?”
“Don’t say that so loud. Yeah, I always do. Why?”
“If you get seen with that my ass is going to be in deep shit with big N, you know. Because you’ll be in the jail and it’s not like I’m going to pay bail.”
“Even if you’re in big shit with ‘the big N?’” Caliban grinned, a little recklessly. “We’ll just have to make sure I don’t get caught. Hopefully there won’t be any reason for me to.” Then he was striding across the street, without looking both ways, and heading for a shadier part of town. Robin rolled his eyes, sighed, and followed.
“The things you get me into, kid,” he yelled at Cal’s retreating back. “You’re shaving years off my life. Do you know how hard that is to do to someone like me?”
“I don’t want to know how hard it is, Goodfellow. I know you’re a pretty boy. I like my men a little more rugged.”
“That’s just dirty,” Robin accused. “And not even clever.”
“Who said I was going for clever?” Cal flashed a grin over his shoulder and sped up. Robin sighed, and adjusted pace to catch up, still not breaking a sweat, but looking slightly exasperated.
“Where’s the fire, kiddo? And where are we going? Going to scalp a revenant and bring Niko the rotting head?”
Cal laughed, which was a little unsettling. Robin shook it off, though. “No,” Caliban said. “I’m going for the arms shop. Should’ve thought of it before. I’ll get something out of there.”
“If a dishwasher’s out of your price range a katana definitely is.”
“Watch me,” said Cal, smoothly, and Robin was a little nervous. But only for a moment, though he was still not tempted to bait the fates by proposing ‘what could go wrong?’ He followed Cal, rubbing a hand through your hair.
“You know I don’t make a habit of bringing weapons on shopping expeditions?”
“I’ll watch your back,” said Caliban, which was not exactly soothing, especially with the grin he shot over his shoulder. “Won’t let you get eaten by anything toothy. Right, here we are.”
They emerged from the alleyway into a street several degrees messier and uglier than the one they’d left behind. A little pocket of dirt that refused to go away. Not that the area they’d been in before was precisely upscale either. Cal rubbed his hands together and managed to look both ways before crossing the street. Niko would have been proud. Something that looked like a hobo, crouched gnawing something, looked up through its ragged hair, and Cal waved cheerfully, not even pausing.
“You keep such charming company, kiddo,” Robin drawled, making a wide berth around the stinking creature. “Old friend?”
“No idea what it is,” Cal said, easily, and opened the door to the store. The attached bell made a curiously cheerful ring. He made it one step before stopping as the proprietor emerged from the back, holding a very sharp and extremely lethal blade. Cal eyed it, and Robin was incredibly glad that he didn’t move for his gun.
“Excuse me,” he said, managing to edge inside around Cal, wanting the door between him and the hairy creature outside. “I hope we’re not too much trouble.” And he flashed his best salesman grin.
“It’s me,” Cal said. “My hair’s grown out but I don’t look that different, you dumbass.” Of course, the man relaxed almost at once.
“Been some trouble around lately,” he said, by way of excuse, and sheathed the sword with what Robin would have called skill before meeting Niko. “Never too sure of what might come through that door.” Of course it was that kind of shop. Robin rolled his eyes slightly. “Who’s the playboy?”
“Rob Fellows,” he said, with a slight bow and another charming smile, as much good as it seemed to do on some people. “Cal thinks he wants to buy someone something new, pointy, and shiny. Please tell him it’s out of your price range. What’s that on your doorstep?”
“What’s what on my doorstep?” The man frowned, and glanced at Cal. “-Niko?”
“Good guess. There’s a hairy beast lurking around eating something. I don’t think it’s DQ.” Caliban shrugged. “Show me what you’ve got.”
Robin wandered away from the counter, exploring the various and rather medieval weaponry. It was good workmanship, at least, if far inferior to most of what he knew, but the man could hardly be blamed for that. Things got lost, over time. At any rate-
The bell on the door rang, and he looked up, but couldn’t see anything over what looked like a barrel full of unfletched arrows. He tried to peer around it, skin on the back of his neck prickling. “Hey - Cal?”
Nothing, or just a continuation of the low voices talking from the front. Haggling, probably. Well, that explained how Cal thought he could buy anything here. All the same, the urge to imitate Han Solo was not retreating, and Robin did have a very bad feeling about this.
“Hey, who came in?” He called, a little louder, and there was a flurry of noise from around the maintenance area, stocked with cleaning fluid and things, so Robin headed that way, cursing Caliban under his breath. “Cal?”
“Shit!” That was Cal all right, and just as suddenly he heard the scuffle of feet moving quickly back and a horrible, shrill, scream. Robin didn’t take the time to go around the counter of screws or gauges or something - he wasn’t really looking - but vaulted over it before thinking that he had nothing to arm himself with.
It was the thing from outside, but its face was visible now, or as much of it as there was. It was mostly mouth; gaping, red and bloody, of course, with short, jagged shark teeth lining as it snapped at Cal, who was on the defensive and holding one of those very nice swords. It was even stained with dark blood and he held it like he knew how to use it. That was promising.
“It came back,” snarled the shopkeeper - had Cal said his name? Adam, maybe. Robin would call him Adam anyway. “That thing’s been lurking around for weeks. I don’t know what the hell it is.”
“Robin?” Cal was panting, just a little, but looking Robin could see that his sleeve was torn and there was definitely a wet spot on his arm. Niko wouldn’t be happy about that. At all.
“I don’t know. Probably something South American, I’m not so good there.” It galled to hang back, but common sense dictated he leave the fighting to the ones with the weapons.
It moved freakishly fast, darting like a snake. Cal’s sword caught in its neck, but it didn’t seem to feel it at all, teeth tearing more skin. It raised its hands and smeared the blood over its face, the dreadlocked, filthy hair swinging, masking eyes.
“Fuck this,” Cal snapped. He pulled out his gun, clicked off the safety, and as the thing lunged again, this time at Adam, it went off with a noise that was anything but muffled. The thing’s hand exploded and Robin’s eyes bugged out.
“You’re carrying that?”
“Good thing, too,” snapped Caliban, took aim again, and fired. The creature, still seeming perplexed at the loss of its hand, never had a chance. The top of its head exploded off in a splatter of …mess.
Adam’s eyebrows were near his hairline. “…Cal? Care to explain?”
“No.” There was blood dripping off his fingers, now, Robin observed, as he stalked over to the thing and gave it a solid kick. “Wish I knew what it was. Doesn’t matter, it’s dead now. Someone will drop by to help clean up.”
“I know. This has happened before.” Adam frowned, then shook his head. “I shouldn’t let you in anymore.” Robin only caught the edge of Caliban’s answering grin, and even that was eerie.
“You keep saying that. Just call me your exterminator.” He turned to go, and Robin didn’t open his mouth to object. At this point, he was beginning to think it would be getting out lucky if that was all they ran into.
“Wait.” Cal paused, and Adam shook his head, sighed. “Your last offer. I’ll take it. No one else will want it now, anyway.” He pushed the long knife that had been on the counter across. “You’ll have to work out a sheath, though.”
Caliban’s smile was genuine, this time. “Thanks, Adam. I appreciate it.”
“I just thank God Niko’s birthday only comes once a year,” the man grumbled, but waved them off with a relatively good air. How anyone as abrasive as Cal managed it was far beyond Robin. Like understood like, he supposed. Surly, grumpy people got along with other surly, grumpy people.
They walked a couple blocks in silence. Finally Caliban sighed, and shook his head. “Robin, would you mind wrapping these up?”
Robin threw up his hands. “Of course. You give your brother a knife and I give him a wounded brother. Great birthday present. Damn you, Cal. We should have stuck with the man-thong.”
Caliban laughed for a long time at that.
Fandom: Caliban Leandros Series
Summary: It's Niko's birthday, and Robin is helping Cal shop. Of course, nothing is ever that simple. Written for Yuletide 2009 for amaresu.
“No, Robin, I am not going to get Niko a man thong for his birthday.” Caliban rubbed his forehead. “And if you suggest it one more time I might have to shoot you.”
“You said you were out of ideas. I offered to help. You accepted.”
“I love humiliating Niko as much as the next person. But never, never, will I stoop that low. Not even me. And that is saying something. Let’s go to Radio Shack and get him a robot dog, or something.”
“Cal. Don’t tell me you’re getting your favorite older brother a robot dog for his twenty-fifth. Might as well get a new carpet. Or a dishwasher.”
“He’d love that, actually. Out of my price range, though.” Cal shoved his hands in his pockets. “Come on, Robin. You’ve been buying presents for millennia. You’ve got to have better ideas.”
“Mostly,” Robin said, with a grin, “People buy me the presents. And it was mostly booze and pretty virgins. I don’t think Niko would go for either of those. That leaves the man thong. God, Cal, what are you going to get for me? New socks?”
“Shut up, Robin. I’m not going to get you anything. I have to get him something special. Be helpful, for once in your puckly life.”
“Puckish, thank you. The correct adjective is ‘puckish.’”
“Cry me a river,” muttered Cal, and stumped toward the door, giving the polite saleslady wishing him good afternoon a deadly glare. Robin flashed her a smile and a wink that made everything better.
“Creepist,” Caliban muttered, and Robin whacked his shoulder.
“Hey, shut up. I’m helping.” He paused, shaking his hand a little. “-are you carrying a gun?”
“Don’t say that so loud. Yeah, I always do. Why?”
“If you get seen with that my ass is going to be in deep shit with big N, you know. Because you’ll be in the jail and it’s not like I’m going to pay bail.”
“Even if you’re in big shit with ‘the big N?’” Caliban grinned, a little recklessly. “We’ll just have to make sure I don’t get caught. Hopefully there won’t be any reason for me to.” Then he was striding across the street, without looking both ways, and heading for a shadier part of town. Robin rolled his eyes, sighed, and followed.
“The things you get me into, kid,” he yelled at Cal’s retreating back. “You’re shaving years off my life. Do you know how hard that is to do to someone like me?”
“I don’t want to know how hard it is, Goodfellow. I know you’re a pretty boy. I like my men a little more rugged.”
“That’s just dirty,” Robin accused. “And not even clever.”
“Who said I was going for clever?” Cal flashed a grin over his shoulder and sped up. Robin sighed, and adjusted pace to catch up, still not breaking a sweat, but looking slightly exasperated.
“Where’s the fire, kiddo? And where are we going? Going to scalp a revenant and bring Niko the rotting head?”
Cal laughed, which was a little unsettling. Robin shook it off, though. “No,” Caliban said. “I’m going for the arms shop. Should’ve thought of it before. I’ll get something out of there.”
“If a dishwasher’s out of your price range a katana definitely is.”
“Watch me,” said Cal, smoothly, and Robin was a little nervous. But only for a moment, though he was still not tempted to bait the fates by proposing ‘what could go wrong?’ He followed Cal, rubbing a hand through your hair.
“You know I don’t make a habit of bringing weapons on shopping expeditions?”
“I’ll watch your back,” said Caliban, which was not exactly soothing, especially with the grin he shot over his shoulder. “Won’t let you get eaten by anything toothy. Right, here we are.”
They emerged from the alleyway into a street several degrees messier and uglier than the one they’d left behind. A little pocket of dirt that refused to go away. Not that the area they’d been in before was precisely upscale either. Cal rubbed his hands together and managed to look both ways before crossing the street. Niko would have been proud. Something that looked like a hobo, crouched gnawing something, looked up through its ragged hair, and Cal waved cheerfully, not even pausing.
“You keep such charming company, kiddo,” Robin drawled, making a wide berth around the stinking creature. “Old friend?”
“No idea what it is,” Cal said, easily, and opened the door to the store. The attached bell made a curiously cheerful ring. He made it one step before stopping as the proprietor emerged from the back, holding a very sharp and extremely lethal blade. Cal eyed it, and Robin was incredibly glad that he didn’t move for his gun.
“Excuse me,” he said, managing to edge inside around Cal, wanting the door between him and the hairy creature outside. “I hope we’re not too much trouble.” And he flashed his best salesman grin.
“It’s me,” Cal said. “My hair’s grown out but I don’t look that different, you dumbass.” Of course, the man relaxed almost at once.
“Been some trouble around lately,” he said, by way of excuse, and sheathed the sword with what Robin would have called skill before meeting Niko. “Never too sure of what might come through that door.” Of course it was that kind of shop. Robin rolled his eyes slightly. “Who’s the playboy?”
“Rob Fellows,” he said, with a slight bow and another charming smile, as much good as it seemed to do on some people. “Cal thinks he wants to buy someone something new, pointy, and shiny. Please tell him it’s out of your price range. What’s that on your doorstep?”
“What’s what on my doorstep?” The man frowned, and glanced at Cal. “-Niko?”
“Good guess. There’s a hairy beast lurking around eating something. I don’t think it’s DQ.” Caliban shrugged. “Show me what you’ve got.”
Robin wandered away from the counter, exploring the various and rather medieval weaponry. It was good workmanship, at least, if far inferior to most of what he knew, but the man could hardly be blamed for that. Things got lost, over time. At any rate-
The bell on the door rang, and he looked up, but couldn’t see anything over what looked like a barrel full of unfletched arrows. He tried to peer around it, skin on the back of his neck prickling. “Hey - Cal?”
Nothing, or just a continuation of the low voices talking from the front. Haggling, probably. Well, that explained how Cal thought he could buy anything here. All the same, the urge to imitate Han Solo was not retreating, and Robin did have a very bad feeling about this.
“Hey, who came in?” He called, a little louder, and there was a flurry of noise from around the maintenance area, stocked with cleaning fluid and things, so Robin headed that way, cursing Caliban under his breath. “Cal?”
“Shit!” That was Cal all right, and just as suddenly he heard the scuffle of feet moving quickly back and a horrible, shrill, scream. Robin didn’t take the time to go around the counter of screws or gauges or something - he wasn’t really looking - but vaulted over it before thinking that he had nothing to arm himself with.
It was the thing from outside, but its face was visible now, or as much of it as there was. It was mostly mouth; gaping, red and bloody, of course, with short, jagged shark teeth lining as it snapped at Cal, who was on the defensive and holding one of those very nice swords. It was even stained with dark blood and he held it like he knew how to use it. That was promising.
“It came back,” snarled the shopkeeper - had Cal said his name? Adam, maybe. Robin would call him Adam anyway. “That thing’s been lurking around for weeks. I don’t know what the hell it is.”
“Robin?” Cal was panting, just a little, but looking Robin could see that his sleeve was torn and there was definitely a wet spot on his arm. Niko wouldn’t be happy about that. At all.
“I don’t know. Probably something South American, I’m not so good there.” It galled to hang back, but common sense dictated he leave the fighting to the ones with the weapons.
It moved freakishly fast, darting like a snake. Cal’s sword caught in its neck, but it didn’t seem to feel it at all, teeth tearing more skin. It raised its hands and smeared the blood over its face, the dreadlocked, filthy hair swinging, masking eyes.
“Fuck this,” Cal snapped. He pulled out his gun, clicked off the safety, and as the thing lunged again, this time at Adam, it went off with a noise that was anything but muffled. The thing’s hand exploded and Robin’s eyes bugged out.
“You’re carrying that?”
“Good thing, too,” snapped Caliban, took aim again, and fired. The creature, still seeming perplexed at the loss of its hand, never had a chance. The top of its head exploded off in a splatter of …mess.
Adam’s eyebrows were near his hairline. “…Cal? Care to explain?”
“No.” There was blood dripping off his fingers, now, Robin observed, as he stalked over to the thing and gave it a solid kick. “Wish I knew what it was. Doesn’t matter, it’s dead now. Someone will drop by to help clean up.”
“I know. This has happened before.” Adam frowned, then shook his head. “I shouldn’t let you in anymore.” Robin only caught the edge of Caliban’s answering grin, and even that was eerie.
“You keep saying that. Just call me your exterminator.” He turned to go, and Robin didn’t open his mouth to object. At this point, he was beginning to think it would be getting out lucky if that was all they ran into.
“Wait.” Cal paused, and Adam shook his head, sighed. “Your last offer. I’ll take it. No one else will want it now, anyway.” He pushed the long knife that had been on the counter across. “You’ll have to work out a sheath, though.”
Caliban’s smile was genuine, this time. “Thanks, Adam. I appreciate it.”
“I just thank God Niko’s birthday only comes once a year,” the man grumbled, but waved them off with a relatively good air. How anyone as abrasive as Cal managed it was far beyond Robin. Like understood like, he supposed. Surly, grumpy people got along with other surly, grumpy people.
They walked a couple blocks in silence. Finally Caliban sighed, and shook his head. “Robin, would you mind wrapping these up?”
Robin threw up his hands. “Of course. You give your brother a knife and I give him a wounded brother. Great birthday present. Damn you, Cal. We should have stuck with the man-thong.”
Caliban laughed for a long time at that.