Fic: Pickles
Title: Pickles
Word count: 520
Rating: Badass (G)
Description: Continuation of this SWS thread . Chuck breaks Grace's pickle jar, and is determined to get more. Remiel tags along. Unbeta-ed and crackalicious
Verse: Lose Three Pounds!Verse
The three of them clonked down the steps of Chuck’s dilapidated... no... ramshackle house. Now when it is said that the three of them clonked, what is really meant is that a clonk is the sound that is made by three different people walking on the same surface with completely different foot falls culminating in one voluminous sound. Firstly we had Grace; newly discovered to be pregnant, slapping her shoes hard on the wood in annoyance of lost pickles and the mad hunger that only early pregnancy cravings could give. She was followed by Chuck and his sullen foot shuffle that years of being a beta-male perfected. Lastly, the archangel Remiel usually didn’t make footfalls, but since realising that Chuck rarely appreciated being snuck-up upon by eager angels had made the conscious effort to make noises when he was walking. Today he was trying to walk to put more emphasis on his toe step, having watched a replay of the 1996 Summer Olympics equestrian event on ESPN earlier that day.
The cumulative sound was thus, clonk.
“Chuck, you don’t have a car. How are we going to get to the shops to buy new pickles?” Grace turned on him once she reached the bottom of the stairs, her arms folding in front of her chest in an all too familiar gestures while Chuck looked nervous.
“I can fly?” Remiel added, unhelpful.
“You’re not getting Angels in the Outfield on me.” Grace frowned at him.
“Hey! That movie was badass.” Remiel frowned back.
Grace nodded in agreement, “Yeah, I suppose it was pretty badass.”
“Guys!?” Chuck called from the side of his front garden.
Grace and Remiel both turned to see the Prophet wheeling his blue pushbike (adult size of course, yet that didn’t explain the reason he had a large basket in the front or bright yellow flag flopping back and forth on a metal wire on the back wheel cover) over to the curb.
Now the expression that came over both Grace and Remiel’s faces simultaneously in conjunction with Chuck’s could only be described as flunk, with Grace and her look of abjured horror, Remiel hardly fighting back the tears of second hand embarrassment and Chuck in his adorable kicked puppy look. This was a clear cut example of a flunk. Never-the-less it didn’t take long to decide who would be sitting on the front handle bars when they took off.
“Oh God Chuck! Watch out for that kid!”
“Grace will you stop moving in front of me? I can’t see anything!”
“You’re peddling right towards him! Is this how you treat children?”
“Wheeeeeeeeee!”
“Quiet back there Remiel!”
“Quiet back there Remiel!” In unison.
“Spoilsports”
“I’m not heading towards the kid Grace I swear.”
“Well you’re not doing a very good job at convincing me”
“Good Grief! Oh crap a hiiiilll--- aaaaah!”
“Wheeeeeeeeee!”
“Wheeeeeeeeee!”
By the time the three of them reached the super-saver mart and bought pickles in surplus it was decided by two votes to one that Remiel would blip them back to Chuck’s house and the entire incident would not be talked of ever again.
Word count: 520
Rating: Badass (G)
Description: Continuation of this SWS thread . Chuck breaks Grace's pickle jar, and is determined to get more. Remiel tags along. Unbeta-ed and crackalicious
Verse: Lose Three Pounds!Verse
The three of them clonked down the steps of Chuck’s dilapidated... no... ramshackle house. Now when it is said that the three of them clonked, what is really meant is that a clonk is the sound that is made by three different people walking on the same surface with completely different foot falls culminating in one voluminous sound. Firstly we had Grace; newly discovered to be pregnant, slapping her shoes hard on the wood in annoyance of lost pickles and the mad hunger that only early pregnancy cravings could give. She was followed by Chuck and his sullen foot shuffle that years of being a beta-male perfected. Lastly, the archangel Remiel usually didn’t make footfalls, but since realising that Chuck rarely appreciated being snuck-up upon by eager angels had made the conscious effort to make noises when he was walking. Today he was trying to walk to put more emphasis on his toe step, having watched a replay of the 1996 Summer Olympics equestrian event on ESPN earlier that day.
The cumulative sound was thus, clonk.
“Chuck, you don’t have a car. How are we going to get to the shops to buy new pickles?” Grace turned on him once she reached the bottom of the stairs, her arms folding in front of her chest in an all too familiar gestures while Chuck looked nervous.
“I can fly?” Remiel added, unhelpful.
“You’re not getting Angels in the Outfield on me.” Grace frowned at him.
“Hey! That movie was badass.” Remiel frowned back.
Grace nodded in agreement, “Yeah, I suppose it was pretty badass.”
“Guys!?” Chuck called from the side of his front garden.
Grace and Remiel both turned to see the Prophet wheeling his blue pushbike (adult size of course, yet that didn’t explain the reason he had a large basket in the front or bright yellow flag flopping back and forth on a metal wire on the back wheel cover) over to the curb.
Now the expression that came over both Grace and Remiel’s faces simultaneously in conjunction with Chuck’s could only be described as flunk, with Grace and her look of abjured horror, Remiel hardly fighting back the tears of second hand embarrassment and Chuck in his adorable kicked puppy look. This was a clear cut example of a flunk. Never-the-less it didn’t take long to decide who would be sitting on the front handle bars when they took off.
“Oh God Chuck! Watch out for that kid!”
“Grace will you stop moving in front of me? I can’t see anything!”
“You’re peddling right towards him! Is this how you treat children?”
“Wheeeeeeeeee!”
“Quiet back there Remiel!”
“Quiet back there Remiel!” In unison.
“Spoilsports”
“I’m not heading towards the kid Grace I swear.”
“Well you’re not doing a very good job at convincing me”
“Good Grief! Oh crap a hiiiilll--- aaaaah!”
“Wheeeeeeeeee!”
“Wheeeeeeeeee!”
By the time the three of them reached the super-saver mart and bought pickles in surplus it was decided by two votes to one that Remiel would blip them back to Chuck’s house and the entire incident would not be talked of ever again.