fic: i want you to count the ways you can make it up to me (house of anubis, gen)
title: i want you to count the ways you can make it up to me
author: hyacinthian
rating: pg
author's note: I don't know what this is. I suppose this is the bottom. Of whatever barrel I've been tumbling down. For falulatonks , who is the biggest enabler and simultaneous awesome person ever.
summary: In which Amber tries to be a bro to Fabian.
Amber looks up from reading her magazine to catch Fabian making eyes at Nina. Again. While she’s always considered herself to be a romantic person, everyone has their limits. He even looks like a puppy. Clearing her throat loudly, she kicks him under the table.
“Ow! Amber, what is wrong with you?”
She offers a half-apologetic grin, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. “Sorry, Fabian. I was trying to kick the … table.”
He blinks. “You were trying to kick the table?”
“It’s a little crooked. Can I talk to you privately, please?”
Nina casts her a skeptical look, but Amber just arches a brow.
Fabian sets his pencil down on top of his maths homework and shrugs. “Sure?”
Once they’re out in the hallway, she checks for any eavesdroppers - she’s learned her lesson with everyone else in the house. Fabian shoves his hands into his trouser pockets.
“What’d you want to talk about?”
“For starters, you look terrible.”
“Thanks, Amber.”
“I’m taking you out.”
“Amber,” he stammers. “You know that I don’t like you … quite like that, right?”
She rolls her eyes. “As if I’d ever want to go out with you in that way. No offense, Fabian, but I’m way too cool for you. I meant as friends. You look like you need some cheering up. And trust me, I wish someone had done the same for me when I was in my post-Mick-break-up gross period. You’ve got me. It’ll be fun.”
Fabian’s expression looks more like a wince than an expression of excitement.
“Take me out where?”
She shoves his arm playfully, although Fabian can already feel the growing bruise. “For drinks, silly. Besides, you definitely need to get your mind off Nina. You keep making eyes at her all day. It’s making me sick. But in a good way! You just … need a break.”
“Sure.”
“Right. Meet me at 11. We’ll go to the clearing.”
He coughs out a laugh, setting a hand on her shoulder. “You’re - you’re something, Amber.”
She smiles. “Thanks. I think.” She links her arm with his. “We’re friends, aren’t we, Fabian?”
He takes his arm out from hers, offering a smile in return. “Yeah, sure, Amber.”
“Good. Friends are so hard to keep here.”
“I better get to class.”
“Another reason why I could never date you, Fabian. You’re such a nerd.”
He nearly walks into the door and Amber wonders how Fabian even manages to get himself dressed in the morning.
As she starts to pack up her books for class (and really, somebody please explain the purpose of Amber Millington learning French when she’ll probably be able to afford a translator anyway), Nina and Fabian walk out the door together. Patricia looks up at her, one of her patent expressions on, blowing her hair out of her face. “How long d’you think it’ll take them?” she huffs, shoving her notebooks into her bag.
“They’re a lost cause,” Amber replies.
“They’re annoying is what they are. If they don’t get together, I’m not beyond locking them in the attic.”
“Patricia.”
“Oh, get off it, Amber, I was only joking.”
“Oh. Well. It isn’t like you haven’t done it before.”
Patricia rolls her eyes. “Come on! We’re going to be late.”
-
Turns out that Fabian isn’t quite as boring as he looks.
They meet up in the clearing, the alcohol she bought from Jerome clinking noisily in her bag. He’s dressed casually, sitting down, leaning against a tree. “You could come and help, you know.”
He laughs. “Amber, you’ve only got the one bag.”
“Well, it’s heavier than I thought it’d be.”
She sits next to him, and hands him one of the plastic cups, pulling a small bottle out of her bag, twisting off the cap and pouring some into both cups.
He fidgets with the cup in his hand. “So what’d you want to do?”
She raises her cup in toast. “Cheers.” The drink burns down her throat, and she ends up coughing. “Ugh, thought that’d taste better than it did.” He just stares at her. Rolling her eyes, she waves her hand at him. He takes the drink, wiping at his mouth after he finishes. She pours them each another.
“What’d you want to do?” he repeats.
“Fabian,” she says, somberly. “This is for you. And your emotional, you know, whatever.”
“I don’t have an emotional whatever.”
“Sure you do. There’s only so much I could take of you sitting and moping at Nina for a year.”
He sputters. “I don’t mope at Nina!”
Amber just presses her lips together skeptically. “Sure.” She takes her second drink and waves at him to do so. “Anyway, this night is for you. Like a - a stag night.”
Fabian bursts into laughter. “Amber, you would - this is - this is definitely not a stag night.”
She rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”
He smiles at her. “Thanks for doing this, though.”
“We’re friends,” she says. “Couldn’t let you sit in the house looking like a - a depressed puppy or something.”
“I do not look like a depressed puppy.”
It’s nice, she thinks, to be able to sit here with Fabian and not have to talk about riddles or the mystery or Joy. The whole thing’s been exhausting, even if it is interesting. She picks at the grass beneath her hands. The silence lingers.
“So - ” he says, awkwardly. “You doing okay with Mick and Mara?”
She leans back on her elbows, toeing off her shoes. “Do you really want to know?”
“No, not really, no.”
“Oh, come on, Fabian, don’t you want to tell me about these secret emotions that like weigh on your soul or something? Your undying passion?”
He finishes his drink, and reaches for the bottle to pour himself a little more. She never would have expected Fabian to be the type to hold his liquor.
“My undying passion? Amber, this isn’t Pride and Prejudice.”
“I think I was too good for Mick,” she says. “It’s like Victoria Beckham leaving the Spice Girls. It’s good for the ’90s, but if they would have lasted any longer, it would have been a little embarrassing.”
“Right.”
“And we didn’t really have that much in common. He was into sport, and I’m … more sophisticated than that.”
He pours some more into her cup. “Drink up,” he says, with a reassuring smile. “You - you are better than Mick.”
She smiles. “Thanks. Like Bridget Jones, I just have to actualize my potential.”
“You know I don’t really understand when you make those references, right?”
“I know. But I wouldn’t be Amber Millington if I didn’t make them.”
“Did your parents come to the show?”
She shakes her head, draining her cup. “I was just a cactus. What was the point?” She forces a smile, but he avoids her gaze. “They’re pretty busy with business most of the time anyway. What about your parents?”
He doesn’t say anything. She reaches for the bottle, pours them each some more.
“Cheers to our parents.”
“Amber Millington, you are - “
“What?” She tosses her hair, listing on her fingers indifferently - “Rich? Spoiled? Whiny? Stupid?”
He turns his head to look at her and she tries to push down all the familiar feelings - she's Amber Millington. She's better than this. She tries a big smile, but it falls flat.
“No, you’re - you're surprising.” He toasts her before taking a sip of his drink. “My parents didn’t show either. I don’t know what they’re doing.”
“Your uncle came though, right?”
He smiles. “Yeah. He’s a bit odd.”
“Fabian - “
He pats her hand once. “This was nice, Amber, honestly. Thanks.”
She snorts a laugh. “You don’t have to lie, Fabian. If you hated it - “
“I didn’t hate it.” He stands then and moves to stand by her feet.
She arches a brow. “What?”
Holding out his hands, he pulls her to her feet. He pokes her shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
He grins. “Tag!”
By the time she starts sprinting after him, he’s run further out towards the range of trees on the edge of campus. They run circles around each other a few times until she finally manages to reach out and grab his arm, knocking him down.
He starts laughing, and it’s infectious; she giggles and they suddenly can’t stop laughing, gripping their stomachs, eyes watering.
She presses a kiss to his cheek.
He pulls away. “Amber.”
“Sorry,” she says, rolling over onto her back to stare up at the sky. “I knew it was a bad idea before I did it. I just - I still don’t like you in that way, you know. It’s just like - I - sometimes it feels like I don’t have anyone.”
“You should make up with Mara,” he says.
“I know.”
They lie in silence for a few minutes.
He says, “We ought to get back before Victor has a fit.”
“You’re probably right.”
They pack up the things messily, shoving things roughly into her bag (which she will think about tomorrow morning). He carries it on their walk back. She plays with the ends of her hair, and he says, “Amber.”
“Hmm?”
“We are friends, you know.”
She grins. “I’m glad you had fun, Fabian.”
He slings an arm around her shoulder.
-
For her birthday, he gets her a Cheryl Cole CD.
She likes him so much, she doesn’t even bother to tell him that she doesn’t really like Cheryl Cole. But it's nice that he tried.
author: hyacinthian
rating: pg
author's note: I don't know what this is. I suppose this is the bottom. Of whatever barrel I've been tumbling down. For falulatonks , who is the biggest enabler and simultaneous awesome person ever.
summary: In which Amber tries to be a bro to Fabian.
Amber looks up from reading her magazine to catch Fabian making eyes at Nina. Again. While she’s always considered herself to be a romantic person, everyone has their limits. He even looks like a puppy. Clearing her throat loudly, she kicks him under the table.
“Ow! Amber, what is wrong with you?”
She offers a half-apologetic grin, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. “Sorry, Fabian. I was trying to kick the … table.”
He blinks. “You were trying to kick the table?”
“It’s a little crooked. Can I talk to you privately, please?”
Nina casts her a skeptical look, but Amber just arches a brow.
Fabian sets his pencil down on top of his maths homework and shrugs. “Sure?”
Once they’re out in the hallway, she checks for any eavesdroppers - she’s learned her lesson with everyone else in the house. Fabian shoves his hands into his trouser pockets.
“What’d you want to talk about?”
“For starters, you look terrible.”
“Thanks, Amber.”
“I’m taking you out.”
“Amber,” he stammers. “You know that I don’t like you … quite like that, right?”
She rolls her eyes. “As if I’d ever want to go out with you in that way. No offense, Fabian, but I’m way too cool for you. I meant as friends. You look like you need some cheering up. And trust me, I wish someone had done the same for me when I was in my post-Mick-break-up gross period. You’ve got me. It’ll be fun.”
Fabian’s expression looks more like a wince than an expression of excitement.
“Take me out where?”
She shoves his arm playfully, although Fabian can already feel the growing bruise. “For drinks, silly. Besides, you definitely need to get your mind off Nina. You keep making eyes at her all day. It’s making me sick. But in a good way! You just … need a break.”
“Sure.”
“Right. Meet me at 11. We’ll go to the clearing.”
He coughs out a laugh, setting a hand on her shoulder. “You’re - you’re something, Amber.”
She smiles. “Thanks. I think.” She links her arm with his. “We’re friends, aren’t we, Fabian?”
He takes his arm out from hers, offering a smile in return. “Yeah, sure, Amber.”
“Good. Friends are so hard to keep here.”
“I better get to class.”
“Another reason why I could never date you, Fabian. You’re such a nerd.”
He nearly walks into the door and Amber wonders how Fabian even manages to get himself dressed in the morning.
As she starts to pack up her books for class (and really, somebody please explain the purpose of Amber Millington learning French when she’ll probably be able to afford a translator anyway), Nina and Fabian walk out the door together. Patricia looks up at her, one of her patent expressions on, blowing her hair out of her face. “How long d’you think it’ll take them?” she huffs, shoving her notebooks into her bag.
“They’re a lost cause,” Amber replies.
“They’re annoying is what they are. If they don’t get together, I’m not beyond locking them in the attic.”
“Patricia.”
“Oh, get off it, Amber, I was only joking.”
“Oh. Well. It isn’t like you haven’t done it before.”
Patricia rolls her eyes. “Come on! We’re going to be late.”
-
Turns out that Fabian isn’t quite as boring as he looks.
They meet up in the clearing, the alcohol she bought from Jerome clinking noisily in her bag. He’s dressed casually, sitting down, leaning against a tree. “You could come and help, you know.”
He laughs. “Amber, you’ve only got the one bag.”
“Well, it’s heavier than I thought it’d be.”
She sits next to him, and hands him one of the plastic cups, pulling a small bottle out of her bag, twisting off the cap and pouring some into both cups.
He fidgets with the cup in his hand. “So what’d you want to do?”
She raises her cup in toast. “Cheers.” The drink burns down her throat, and she ends up coughing. “Ugh, thought that’d taste better than it did.” He just stares at her. Rolling her eyes, she waves her hand at him. He takes the drink, wiping at his mouth after he finishes. She pours them each another.
“What’d you want to do?” he repeats.
“Fabian,” she says, somberly. “This is for you. And your emotional, you know, whatever.”
“I don’t have an emotional whatever.”
“Sure you do. There’s only so much I could take of you sitting and moping at Nina for a year.”
He sputters. “I don’t mope at Nina!”
Amber just presses her lips together skeptically. “Sure.” She takes her second drink and waves at him to do so. “Anyway, this night is for you. Like a - a stag night.”
Fabian bursts into laughter. “Amber, you would - this is - this is definitely not a stag night.”
She rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”
He smiles at her. “Thanks for doing this, though.”
“We’re friends,” she says. “Couldn’t let you sit in the house looking like a - a depressed puppy or something.”
“I do not look like a depressed puppy.”
It’s nice, she thinks, to be able to sit here with Fabian and not have to talk about riddles or the mystery or Joy. The whole thing’s been exhausting, even if it is interesting. She picks at the grass beneath her hands. The silence lingers.
“So - ” he says, awkwardly. “You doing okay with Mick and Mara?”
She leans back on her elbows, toeing off her shoes. “Do you really want to know?”
“No, not really, no.”
“Oh, come on, Fabian, don’t you want to tell me about these secret emotions that like weigh on your soul or something? Your undying passion?”
He finishes his drink, and reaches for the bottle to pour himself a little more. She never would have expected Fabian to be the type to hold his liquor.
“My undying passion? Amber, this isn’t Pride and Prejudice.”
“I think I was too good for Mick,” she says. “It’s like Victoria Beckham leaving the Spice Girls. It’s good for the ’90s, but if they would have lasted any longer, it would have been a little embarrassing.”
“Right.”
“And we didn’t really have that much in common. He was into sport, and I’m … more sophisticated than that.”
He pours some more into her cup. “Drink up,” he says, with a reassuring smile. “You - you are better than Mick.”
She smiles. “Thanks. Like Bridget Jones, I just have to actualize my potential.”
“You know I don’t really understand when you make those references, right?”
“I know. But I wouldn’t be Amber Millington if I didn’t make them.”
“Did your parents come to the show?”
She shakes her head, draining her cup. “I was just a cactus. What was the point?” She forces a smile, but he avoids her gaze. “They’re pretty busy with business most of the time anyway. What about your parents?”
He doesn’t say anything. She reaches for the bottle, pours them each some more.
“Cheers to our parents.”
“Amber Millington, you are - “
“What?” She tosses her hair, listing on her fingers indifferently - “Rich? Spoiled? Whiny? Stupid?”
He turns his head to look at her and she tries to push down all the familiar feelings - she's Amber Millington. She's better than this. She tries a big smile, but it falls flat.
“No, you’re - you're surprising.” He toasts her before taking a sip of his drink. “My parents didn’t show either. I don’t know what they’re doing.”
“Your uncle came though, right?”
He smiles. “Yeah. He’s a bit odd.”
“Fabian - “
He pats her hand once. “This was nice, Amber, honestly. Thanks.”
She snorts a laugh. “You don’t have to lie, Fabian. If you hated it - “
“I didn’t hate it.” He stands then and moves to stand by her feet.
She arches a brow. “What?”
Holding out his hands, he pulls her to her feet. He pokes her shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
He grins. “Tag!”
By the time she starts sprinting after him, he’s run further out towards the range of trees on the edge of campus. They run circles around each other a few times until she finally manages to reach out and grab his arm, knocking him down.
He starts laughing, and it’s infectious; she giggles and they suddenly can’t stop laughing, gripping their stomachs, eyes watering.
She presses a kiss to his cheek.
He pulls away. “Amber.”
“Sorry,” she says, rolling over onto her back to stare up at the sky. “I knew it was a bad idea before I did it. I just - I still don’t like you in that way, you know. It’s just like - I - sometimes it feels like I don’t have anyone.”
“You should make up with Mara,” he says.
“I know.”
They lie in silence for a few minutes.
He says, “We ought to get back before Victor has a fit.”
“You’re probably right.”
They pack up the things messily, shoving things roughly into her bag (which she will think about tomorrow morning). He carries it on their walk back. She plays with the ends of her hair, and he says, “Amber.”
“Hmm?”
“We are friends, you know.”
She grins. “I’m glad you had fun, Fabian.”
He slings an arm around her shoulder.
-
For her birthday, he gets her a Cheryl Cole CD.
She likes him so much, she doesn’t even bother to tell him that she doesn’t really like Cheryl Cole. But it's nice that he tried.