.077 What?
[.077 What?]
Sydney Alexis
There were, Gus reflected, a lot of people in the world he couldn't fucking stand, some he barely tolerated, and only a handful he actually liked.
His little sister, JR, had shifted around on that list during the course of their life together. Lately, she was straddling the actually like/barely tolerate line. It was probably because she had taken to nattering after him like a fucking mother. Like he didn't have two (three if one counted Debbie) after him.
Her admonishments of late varied as wildly as her hair color (which was currently cobalt blue).
"Honestly, Gus, you're getting up there in years. It really is about time you started actually talking to your dates rather than bending them over the nearest surface."
Anyone that hadn't known JR for the last twenty three years would have, at the very least, blushed at that comment. However, he'd heard far worse from every member of his fucked up little family.
With deliberate slowness, Gus lowered his coffee cup to the table before responding.
"One," he said, ticking the number off his finger with an elegant gesture. "Being 27 does not mean I'm 'getting up there in years.'"
Her interrupting, sotto voce response of 'sure...tell yourself that' was pointedly ignored as he drew a second finger.
"Two, there is nothing wrong with getting your needs met."
JR snorted which Gus translated to mean 'you sound so like your dad it's pathetic'. Again, he ignored her.
"And lastly," he said, staring her down. "You're only four years younger than I am so, by your own definition, you're 'getting up there,' too."
"And you and I both know that, good genetics aside, you're starting to show your age. I can see the wrinkles from here...and how many years do you think it will take for the grey hairs to start popping up?"
Gus' eyes narrowed.
"I would say I'd just dye it to cover the grey, but, considering how craptastic your hair looks after the fortieth dye job, I'm not so sure."
JR's jaw dropped. "Fuck you! My hair looks fantastic!"
"You look like a freak Kool-Aid accident."
"You take that back," she screeched, smacking him in the arm.
"And you take back the age comment. Christ! I'm no where near old," he replied, smirking.
"And you're nowhere near having been in a serious relationship," she volleyed looking rather pleased with her comeback.
JR never acknowledged any romantic entanglement that she didn't approve of. And 'by approve of' she meant anyone who she didn't get a good vibe from or some equally weird, neo-hippy bullshit. Thus far, none of the people he dated for any length of time had measured up.
Well, if she was going to play mother hen, he could too.
"And you've never had a serious job!"
"I have, too!" She protested, pouty lips, angry flip of the hair, and all.
Gus rolled his eyes. JR's 'career path' could only be described as wide, varied, and frequently changed.
"Get real! In the past six month, you've worked as a personal assistant, a mystery shopper, a house painter, a short line cook, a waitress, a bookseller, a cashier, a dog walker, a tattoo artist -- which you were pretty decent at by the way, the Gap..."
"Assholes. Have the nerve to fire me because I dyed my hair..." She muttered
"It was sunburst yellow with magenta tips, and I'm thinking they were more bothered by the ripped up capri pants, too tight t-shirts, tattoos, and multiple piercings."
"They told me I had to wear their clothes!"
"Not after you'd ripped them up. And the t-shirt? Fuck, JR! I never needed to know you got your tits pierced."
"Pot/kettle, asshole."
Gus groaned and buried his face in his hands. That had been ten years ago and had involved a dare and a significant amount of tequila.
"Is there a point to this little meeting," he asked, swirling the remnants of his coffee.
"Yes," JR said, pausing for a dramatic effect.
Gus knew that smile. It was the devious, scheming one she wore that meant she was up to no good.
"Wednesday. Seven o'clock. Le Chat Noir."
Gus' eyes grew comically large, mouth working like a fish. "You set me up on a fucking blind date?"
"Of course," she replied, smile growing larger. "And, if you're not there, Gussy Gus, I'll do this to you," she said, pointing to her hair.
Gus shuddered; he knew it wasn't an empty threat.
With a laugh and a kiss on the cheek, she was up and out of the cafe before he had a chance to respond.
Definitely on the barely tolerate list then.
A/N: Not part of the Healing universe.
fanfic100: 38/100 [Great Big Box of Everything]
Sydney Alexis
There were, Gus reflected, a lot of people in the world he couldn't fucking stand, some he barely tolerated, and only a handful he actually liked.
His little sister, JR, had shifted around on that list during the course of their life together. Lately, she was straddling the actually like/barely tolerate line. It was probably because she had taken to nattering after him like a fucking mother. Like he didn't have two (three if one counted Debbie) after him.
Her admonishments of late varied as wildly as her hair color (which was currently cobalt blue).
"Honestly, Gus, you're getting up there in years. It really is about time you started actually talking to your dates rather than bending them over the nearest surface."
Anyone that hadn't known JR for the last twenty three years would have, at the very least, blushed at that comment. However, he'd heard far worse from every member of his fucked up little family.
With deliberate slowness, Gus lowered his coffee cup to the table before responding.
"One," he said, ticking the number off his finger with an elegant gesture. "Being 27 does not mean I'm 'getting up there in years.'"
Her interrupting, sotto voce response of 'sure...tell yourself that' was pointedly ignored as he drew a second finger.
"Two, there is nothing wrong with getting your needs met."
JR snorted which Gus translated to mean 'you sound so like your dad it's pathetic'. Again, he ignored her.
"And lastly," he said, staring her down. "You're only four years younger than I am so, by your own definition, you're 'getting up there,' too."
"And you and I both know that, good genetics aside, you're starting to show your age. I can see the wrinkles from here...and how many years do you think it will take for the grey hairs to start popping up?"
Gus' eyes narrowed.
"I would say I'd just dye it to cover the grey, but, considering how craptastic your hair looks after the fortieth dye job, I'm not so sure."
JR's jaw dropped. "Fuck you! My hair looks fantastic!"
"You look like a freak Kool-Aid accident."
"You take that back," she screeched, smacking him in the arm.
"And you take back the age comment. Christ! I'm no where near old," he replied, smirking.
"And you're nowhere near having been in a serious relationship," she volleyed looking rather pleased with her comeback.
JR never acknowledged any romantic entanglement that she didn't approve of. And 'by approve of' she meant anyone who she didn't get a good vibe from or some equally weird, neo-hippy bullshit. Thus far, none of the people he dated for any length of time had measured up.
Well, if she was going to play mother hen, he could too.
"And you've never had a serious job!"
"I have, too!" She protested, pouty lips, angry flip of the hair, and all.
Gus rolled his eyes. JR's 'career path' could only be described as wide, varied, and frequently changed.
"Get real! In the past six month, you've worked as a personal assistant, a mystery shopper, a house painter, a short line cook, a waitress, a bookseller, a cashier, a dog walker, a tattoo artist -- which you were pretty decent at by the way, the Gap..."
"Assholes. Have the nerve to fire me because I dyed my hair..." She muttered
"It was sunburst yellow with magenta tips, and I'm thinking they were more bothered by the ripped up capri pants, too tight t-shirts, tattoos, and multiple piercings."
"They told me I had to wear their clothes!"
"Not after you'd ripped them up. And the t-shirt? Fuck, JR! I never needed to know you got your tits pierced."
"Pot/kettle, asshole."
Gus groaned and buried his face in his hands. That had been ten years ago and had involved a dare and a significant amount of tequila.
"Is there a point to this little meeting," he asked, swirling the remnants of his coffee.
"Yes," JR said, pausing for a dramatic effect.
Gus knew that smile. It was the devious, scheming one she wore that meant she was up to no good.
"Wednesday. Seven o'clock. Le Chat Noir."
Gus' eyes grew comically large, mouth working like a fish. "You set me up on a fucking blind date?"
"Of course," she replied, smile growing larger. "And, if you're not there, Gussy Gus, I'll do this to you," she said, pointing to her hair.
Gus shuddered; he knew it wasn't an empty threat.
With a laugh and a kiss on the cheek, she was up and out of the cafe before he had a chance to respond.
Definitely on the barely tolerate list then.
A/N: Not part of the Healing universe.
fanfic100: 38/100 [Great Big Box of Everything]