unfinished
Present for Lora. ♥.
Title: Shit, Not This Again pt. 1.
The head was a green-grassed be-treed flower-infested commune of queers, intellectually-apt-but-socially-inept nerds, kickass chicks, and variations on the theme of dudes-who-wear-skirts. Edward was firmly in the 'queer' category, with a strong leaning towards the socially-inept side. He was also cross, because the head was fretting over the end of semester and fuck knew what else, and the atmosphere was decidedly damp and static-cranky. She wasn't talking to anyone in here about it, whatever the various whatevers were. After two weeks of this, Edward'd had more than enough. He walked across the hall in the Collab building and pounded on the door to suite 304.
After far too many thumps the door cracked open and Will's dishevelled head poked through. He was squinting dreadfully and there were pink pillow-creases on his face. "Grarh," he said.
"Come with me, we gotta go get the wand."
Will pulled the door open more and leaned on it. He was wearing a pair of Marvin the Martian boxers and nothing else. He had a slight potbelly. "Hnuh?" he said.
"The wand of Essaybedone, dammit. I know you've heard of it, let's go."
Will knuckled his eyes and blinked vaguely at Edward. He scrunched his nose up and exhaled noisily through it, then yawned so hard his jaw cracked. He shook his head. "Nnn?"
"Yes, now." Edward said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Go put clothes on."
"Rfzzit," Will said, and rubbed one hand across his belly. He watched it for a moment, meditatively, then shook his head and said, "Nuh-uh, toosleepy," and closed the door gently. Edward heard footsteps leading away.
"Dammit." Edward considered thumping the door again, but that seldom ended well, and if he woke Brooke up there'd just be more of a mess than he cared to handle at the moment. Girl had a voice like a giant vacuum cleaner when she was riled, and seemed to double in size when she was mad. Nah, wasn't worth asking her. She'd say it's not like we have to pay rent and shrug.
Which left... huhn. Drake. And that was it for the Collab building, really. Nessa was sure to help, he just had to find her and tell her where they were going. She wouldn't care why; the thought of Edward going somewhere without her was more than enough motivation, but two people wasn't enough. Three, if Drake agreed. Edward figured he'd have to head over to IBG or Starcatchers or one of the other nearby buildings. If nobody wanted to help out, he could always try the AU boarding-house or further on to the Ficborhood or, and this would suck, all the fucking way to the international zone, to see if anyone from Piigverse or Tamsville would come. Anyone useful, at any rate. You could lead Ellif around with a butterfly on a stick, but he wouldn't be good for much but opening cans. And Edward couldn't even look into laying up supplies until he knew how many people were coming along!
Jeez. She'd better like the fucking wand.
Edward eyed the clock and sighed. Great. 10:30, Drake would be catching a nauseating mixture of the last breakfast food and the first lunch food, and he'd try to shove buckets of it down Edward's throat. Sad thing was, Edward would let him try, today. Last night Drake had ambushed him with an Altered Boys dvd(!?) and Cracker Jacks, and when the twitches had started up he'd given Edward legrubs without being asked. Six hours of sleep and Edward felt, well. Was there a word for cranky-frisky? Less zombie than usual, at any rate. Edward pondered while he walked; he'd found that an expression of intense concentration significantly lessened the chances of being spoken to. Today wasn't a scowly-day, though a good crankyface could work almost as well.
He hated the caf. Headspace had restaurants and fast-food places and fantastic sushi, but Drake always ate at the caf. Ugh. Edward butted the door open with his hip and walked in. Rich yellow sunlight filtered through the glass and wound up looking like washwater, and the floor was some sticky used-to-be-carpet that smelled like gym socks and grease. Drake wasn't hard to find. He was wearing an orange hello-kitty shirt two sizes too small, jeans that ought to be put out to pasture, and fifteen thin candy-coloured plastic wristbands on his left forearm. He had a tray full of food and two mini-cartons of chocolate milk, and had his free hand curled jealously around the whole lot. He had his earphones on. Edward wanted to sneak up on him and slide an arm 'round his chest at collarbone-level and lean against his back, but he didn't dare. He slouched into a nearby seat instead, and poked Drake's boot with the toe of his sneaker.
Drake transferred the food he'd been chewing into one cheek to say, "Hey! Edmundo!"
Edward drummed his fingers on the table and mimed removing phantom earplugs. Drake crinkled his eyes, hit 'pause', and complied. Edward said, "It's Edward, not any of the ridiculous things you have tried or will try, and I'm going to get the Wand of Essaybedone so the weather'll improve, are you coming?"
Drake opened his mouth, closed it, shot Edward a sideways jaw-tilted calculating look. Edward cleared his throat in the hopes that the sudden twist in his belly wouldn't show on his face. Or if it did, that Drake would just think it was anything else--
"On one condition!" Drake announced grandly.
Fuck, Edward thought, his mind beginning to tell stories of pranks and bright hair-ribbons and other dreadful things. Drake not wanting to talk to him anymore.
"You've got to finish my pancake," Drake said. "And some of the milk and maybe hashbrowns too--"
"Whoa," Edward said. "Don't push it." He eyed the pancake; if he closed his fingers, he'd just be able to conceal the entire thing with his hand, and it was covered with a thin layer of icing-sugar and chunks of strawberry, the milk was the smallest kind. He hadn't eaten yet. Yeah, he could manage it. "You're actually gonna come? As in, put on something sensible and not orange? Pack stuff?"
Hand over heart, Drake shot him a wounded look. "I am slain! How could you perjure my character in such a dastardly manner?"
Edward stared. After a long pause, Drake hung his head. "It was Tammy's idea! She made me memorize it."
Edward stole Drake's fork and carved a sliver of pancake and shoved it in his mouth. He didn't want to think about Drake using words like that, so smoothly, and the way the light pooled like water on his cheekbones, in his hair. Wasn't sure how he felt about being conspired against.
"Hey, you've got icing sugar all over you," Drake said, and touched Edward's face.
END pt. 1
That's all for this episode of Shit, Not This Again. Stay tuned for the next exciting episode, wherein Edward drags Drake off to pack, they go searching for a few more dudes and/or dudettes to join the quest, and something about a toy poodle.
Title: Shit, Not This Again pt. 1.
The head was a green-grassed be-treed flower-infested commune of queers, intellectually-apt-but-socially-inept nerds, kickass chicks, and variations on the theme of dudes-who-wear-skirts. Edward was firmly in the 'queer' category, with a strong leaning towards the socially-inept side. He was also cross, because the head was fretting over the end of semester and fuck knew what else, and the atmosphere was decidedly damp and static-cranky. She wasn't talking to anyone in here about it, whatever the various whatevers were. After two weeks of this, Edward'd had more than enough. He walked across the hall in the Collab building and pounded on the door to suite 304.
After far too many thumps the door cracked open and Will's dishevelled head poked through. He was squinting dreadfully and there were pink pillow-creases on his face. "Grarh," he said.
"Come with me, we gotta go get the wand."
Will pulled the door open more and leaned on it. He was wearing a pair of Marvin the Martian boxers and nothing else. He had a slight potbelly. "Hnuh?" he said.
"The wand of Essaybedone, dammit. I know you've heard of it, let's go."
Will knuckled his eyes and blinked vaguely at Edward. He scrunched his nose up and exhaled noisily through it, then yawned so hard his jaw cracked. He shook his head. "Nnn?"
"Yes, now." Edward said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Go put clothes on."
"Rfzzit," Will said, and rubbed one hand across his belly. He watched it for a moment, meditatively, then shook his head and said, "Nuh-uh, toosleepy," and closed the door gently. Edward heard footsteps leading away.
"Dammit." Edward considered thumping the door again, but that seldom ended well, and if he woke Brooke up there'd just be more of a mess than he cared to handle at the moment. Girl had a voice like a giant vacuum cleaner when she was riled, and seemed to double in size when she was mad. Nah, wasn't worth asking her. She'd say it's not like we have to pay rent and shrug.
Which left... huhn. Drake. And that was it for the Collab building, really. Nessa was sure to help, he just had to find her and tell her where they were going. She wouldn't care why; the thought of Edward going somewhere without her was more than enough motivation, but two people wasn't enough. Three, if Drake agreed. Edward figured he'd have to head over to IBG or Starcatchers or one of the other nearby buildings. If nobody wanted to help out, he could always try the AU boarding-house or further on to the Ficborhood or, and this would suck, all the fucking way to the international zone, to see if anyone from Piigverse or Tamsville would come. Anyone useful, at any rate. You could lead Ellif around with a butterfly on a stick, but he wouldn't be good for much but opening cans. And Edward couldn't even look into laying up supplies until he knew how many people were coming along!
Jeez. She'd better like the fucking wand.
Edward eyed the clock and sighed. Great. 10:30, Drake would be catching a nauseating mixture of the last breakfast food and the first lunch food, and he'd try to shove buckets of it down Edward's throat. Sad thing was, Edward would let him try, today. Last night Drake had ambushed him with an Altered Boys dvd(!?) and Cracker Jacks, and when the twitches had started up he'd given Edward legrubs without being asked. Six hours of sleep and Edward felt, well. Was there a word for cranky-frisky? Less zombie than usual, at any rate. Edward pondered while he walked; he'd found that an expression of intense concentration significantly lessened the chances of being spoken to. Today wasn't a scowly-day, though a good crankyface could work almost as well.
He hated the caf. Headspace had restaurants and fast-food places and fantastic sushi, but Drake always ate at the caf. Ugh. Edward butted the door open with his hip and walked in. Rich yellow sunlight filtered through the glass and wound up looking like washwater, and the floor was some sticky used-to-be-carpet that smelled like gym socks and grease. Drake wasn't hard to find. He was wearing an orange hello-kitty shirt two sizes too small, jeans that ought to be put out to pasture, and fifteen thin candy-coloured plastic wristbands on his left forearm. He had a tray full of food and two mini-cartons of chocolate milk, and had his free hand curled jealously around the whole lot. He had his earphones on. Edward wanted to sneak up on him and slide an arm 'round his chest at collarbone-level and lean against his back, but he didn't dare. He slouched into a nearby seat instead, and poked Drake's boot with the toe of his sneaker.
Drake transferred the food he'd been chewing into one cheek to say, "Hey! Edmundo!"
Edward drummed his fingers on the table and mimed removing phantom earplugs. Drake crinkled his eyes, hit 'pause', and complied. Edward said, "It's Edward, not any of the ridiculous things you have tried or will try, and I'm going to get the Wand of Essaybedone so the weather'll improve, are you coming?"
Drake opened his mouth, closed it, shot Edward a sideways jaw-tilted calculating look. Edward cleared his throat in the hopes that the sudden twist in his belly wouldn't show on his face. Or if it did, that Drake would just think it was anything else--
"On one condition!" Drake announced grandly.
Fuck, Edward thought, his mind beginning to tell stories of pranks and bright hair-ribbons and other dreadful things. Drake not wanting to talk to him anymore.
"You've got to finish my pancake," Drake said. "And some of the milk and maybe hashbrowns too--"
"Whoa," Edward said. "Don't push it." He eyed the pancake; if he closed his fingers, he'd just be able to conceal the entire thing with his hand, and it was covered with a thin layer of icing-sugar and chunks of strawberry, the milk was the smallest kind. He hadn't eaten yet. Yeah, he could manage it. "You're actually gonna come? As in, put on something sensible and not orange? Pack stuff?"
Hand over heart, Drake shot him a wounded look. "I am slain! How could you perjure my character in such a dastardly manner?"
Edward stared. After a long pause, Drake hung his head. "It was Tammy's idea! She made me memorize it."
Edward stole Drake's fork and carved a sliver of pancake and shoved it in his mouth. He didn't want to think about Drake using words like that, so smoothly, and the way the light pooled like water on his cheekbones, in his hair. Wasn't sure how he felt about being conspired against.
"Hey, you've got icing sugar all over you," Drake said, and touched Edward's face.
END pt. 1
That's all for this episode of Shit, Not This Again. Stay tuned for the next exciting episode, wherein Edward drags Drake off to pack, they go searching for a few more dudes and/or dudettes to join the quest, and something about a toy poodle.