[ Gen ] Movie Night .
movie night. ~670 words.
by me,
shattered_ink .
PG for mild swearing. girl!Brendon and Ryan, gen.
summary: Brenna wants to watch High School Musical; Ryan does not.
disclaimer: don't own them; this didn't happen. Brendon is not a girl.
a/n: for and prompted by xmexandxyoux . um. i'm sorry. this came out pretty disastrous and very simply, sparsely written. it was kind of all I could do with the prompt, and it turned into like, a brief commentary on HSM and a girl!Brendon and Ryan friendship fic. I hope it's at least entertaining? (:
Brenna’s bouncing on the sofa, angling a pocket mirror so she can see how the blue (non-toxic, washable, etc.) fingerpaint on the tips of her pigtails is holding up.
“It looks fine,” Ryan says, mostly so she can shut up about how “what if mixing it with water weakened the color too much” and how “what if this stuff doesn’t come out.”
“A good reason not to do it in the first place, don’t you think?”
“Whatever,” she says, and presses her hair between her fingers. The paint’s caked-on now, doesn’t leave her hands all wet and blue-spotted. “It’s dry enough. Now go get the DVD player set up!”
“Oh, right. Movie night. What are we watching?”
Brenna shrugs. “Oh, just something I picked up on the way here.”
“Title, please?”
She mutters something, low and indecipherable.
“Come again? In English, maybe?”
Brenna draws out the words, cringing as they slip through her teeth. “High School Musical.”
“Hmm. No.”
“But Ryan!”
“That trash is not and will never be allowed in my apartment. It’s an abomination to mankind. Get rid of it.”
“It’s my turn to pick the movie!”
“And we both have to agree to it, which I wholeheartedly don’t.”
“You’ve never even seen it!”
“And I intend to keep it that way. We’ll watch Gran Torino.”
“No, we will not.” Brenna stamps her feet and thrusts the DVD out like a shield. “We’re watching this.”
“Brenna.”
“We’re watching this. Pretty, pretty please with Paul McCartney and a hoagie on top?”
Oh. Oh, she’s good.
He snatches the DVD like it’s a snot-splattered tissue and mutters, “Fine.”
Brenna pumps her fists, blue ponytails swishing. “Get ready to watch what is arguably the best thing Disney’s ever done!”
-
“This sucks even worse than I thought it would, which is saying something.”
“Shut up, Ryan, these are the opening credits.”
-
I know that something has changed, never felt this way …
“These lyrics are poorly written. I resent them.”
-
“What the hell is up with that dude’s hair?”
“Shush!”
-
“Oh my God, is that girl’s brother a metrosexual?”
“Honestly, though, how am I even friends with you?”
-
“This movie is a misrepresentation of high school.”
“What are you talking about?”
“If a girl dumped her lunch on another girl at any normal high school, she would get bitch-slapped. There would be no squealing and snitching to the drama teacher.”
“Jesus Christ, Ryan, it’s Disney! There will be no bitch-slapping!”
“And you wonder why this movie sucks so bad.”
-
“Kicking and scratching? Grinding out my best? What kind of sick sexual innuendo is that? Is this movie G-rated, seriously?”
“Maybe if I ignore you, you’ll go away.”
-
“Is this moron seriously on her balcony right now?”
“I can’t hear you!”
-
“This scene is awesome! The choreography is amazing!”
Brenna’s eyes expand until they’re nearly falling out of their sockets. “Seriously?!”
“No. This shit is cheesier than bacon.”
“That - that doesn’t even make sense!”
“Neither does this movie.”
She dumps the remaining popcorn on his head.
-
“That,” Ryan says, as the credits roll up and off-screen, “was so lame. They didn’t even kiss.”
“You probably would have mocked them if they had!”
“Would not. Even I can appreciate a little romance, and you can’t have a romance without a kiss.”
“Well,” she says, and taps her chin, thoughtful, “there are two more sequels. Two more chances for you to get your kiss.”
He considers this. “Fine. I guess we’ll have to watch them.”
Brenna throws her arms around him, says, “I think I love you almost as much as I love Zac Efron.”
Ryan - well, he chooses to take this as a compliment.
*
by me,
shattered_ink .
PG for mild swearing. girl!Brendon and Ryan, gen.
summary: Brenna wants to watch High School Musical; Ryan does not.
disclaimer: don't own them; this didn't happen. Brendon is not a girl.
a/n: for and prompted by xmexandxyoux . um. i'm sorry. this came out pretty disastrous and very simply, sparsely written. it was kind of all I could do with the prompt, and it turned into like, a brief commentary on HSM and a girl!Brendon and Ryan friendship fic. I hope it's at least entertaining? (:
Brenna’s bouncing on the sofa, angling a pocket mirror so she can see how the blue (non-toxic, washable, etc.) fingerpaint on the tips of her pigtails is holding up.
“It looks fine,” Ryan says, mostly so she can shut up about how “what if mixing it with water weakened the color too much” and how “what if this stuff doesn’t come out.”
“A good reason not to do it in the first place, don’t you think?”
“Whatever,” she says, and presses her hair between her fingers. The paint’s caked-on now, doesn’t leave her hands all wet and blue-spotted. “It’s dry enough. Now go get the DVD player set up!”
“Oh, right. Movie night. What are we watching?”
Brenna shrugs. “Oh, just something I picked up on the way here.”
“Title, please?”
She mutters something, low and indecipherable.
“Come again? In English, maybe?”
Brenna draws out the words, cringing as they slip through her teeth. “High School Musical.”
“Hmm. No.”
“But Ryan!”
“That trash is not and will never be allowed in my apartment. It’s an abomination to mankind. Get rid of it.”
“It’s my turn to pick the movie!”
“And we both have to agree to it, which I wholeheartedly don’t.”
“You’ve never even seen it!”
“And I intend to keep it that way. We’ll watch Gran Torino.”
“No, we will not.” Brenna stamps her feet and thrusts the DVD out like a shield. “We’re watching this.”
“Brenna.”
“We’re watching this. Pretty, pretty please with Paul McCartney and a hoagie on top?”
Oh. Oh, she’s good.
He snatches the DVD like it’s a snot-splattered tissue and mutters, “Fine.”
Brenna pumps her fists, blue ponytails swishing. “Get ready to watch what is arguably the best thing Disney’s ever done!”
-
“This sucks even worse than I thought it would, which is saying something.”
“Shut up, Ryan, these are the opening credits.”
-
I know that something has changed, never felt this way …
“These lyrics are poorly written. I resent them.”
-
“What the hell is up with that dude’s hair?”
“Shush!”
-
“Oh my God, is that girl’s brother a metrosexual?”
“Honestly, though, how am I even friends with you?”
-
“This movie is a misrepresentation of high school.”
“What are you talking about?”
“If a girl dumped her lunch on another girl at any normal high school, she would get bitch-slapped. There would be no squealing and snitching to the drama teacher.”
“Jesus Christ, Ryan, it’s Disney! There will be no bitch-slapping!”
“And you wonder why this movie sucks so bad.”
-
“Kicking and scratching? Grinding out my best? What kind of sick sexual innuendo is that? Is this movie G-rated, seriously?”
“Maybe if I ignore you, you’ll go away.”
-
“Is this moron seriously on her balcony right now?”
“I can’t hear you!”
-
“This scene is awesome! The choreography is amazing!”
Brenna’s eyes expand until they’re nearly falling out of their sockets. “Seriously?!”
“No. This shit is cheesier than bacon.”
“That - that doesn’t even make sense!”
“Neither does this movie.”
She dumps the remaining popcorn on his head.
-
“That,” Ryan says, as the credits roll up and off-screen, “was so lame. They didn’t even kiss.”
“You probably would have mocked them if they had!”
“Would not. Even I can appreciate a little romance, and you can’t have a romance without a kiss.”
“Well,” she says, and taps her chin, thoughtful, “there are two more sequels. Two more chances for you to get your kiss.”
He considers this. “Fine. I guess we’ll have to watch them.”
Brenna throws her arms around him, says, “I think I love you almost as much as I love Zac Efron.”
Ryan - well, he chooses to take this as a compliment.
*