A Dish Best Served Hot
Title: A Dish Best Served Hot
Author: darkfaerieclaw
Story Continuity: Returning Away
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 1073
Summary: AU. David comes clean about his sexual exploits, Kitty has a cow, and Emilie is so not helping.
Note: Levity? No comprende.
"YOU WHAT."
"Miss Eyre," Mr. Cerveux said, "How predictable. Detention. And give me your test. You, too, David."
"But-" began David, but was interrupted by Kitty: "Your dick. I shall have it for breakfast. It is mine."
Emilie smirked from the seat next to Kitty. "Oh, mmm-hmm. Look, Dave, seems like Kitty wants in on our sexy fun time. What do you say, sugar doll?"
"Um-"
"Uh, kids-" Mr. Cerveux said, at the same time.
"YOU ARE DEAD TO ME, EMILIE LOCKHEART. YOU'RE PLUTO, YOU HEAR ME?"
"Roger, princess," Emilie said. "It's sort of hard not to."
"Out in the hallway, all three of you," Mr. Cerveux said. "And close the door behind you if you can't keep it civilized."
"But this could turn into the catfight of the century!" said Milo, who looked somewhat faint at the idea of missing it. Mr. Cerveux said, "Test. Now."
The three pertinent people - Emilie, Kitty, and David - were loosed into the hallway. Emilie slammed the door behind her because she could, and ignored the shout of "Detention, Emilie!" that followed. She smiled, slow and satisfied, a sated look in her eye. She raised one eyebrow at Kitty, and her smile widened. Kitty's heart imploded. "You - you were my best friend-"
"Were?" Emilie looked mock offended. "But I was just helping you! David knows every trick in the book by now! Of course," she smiled, "he may not want someone so pure and...untainted as you. How about it, Davey? You want to be with someone who won't do the spider with you? Someone who couldn't light a fire with her eyes, let alone her hands? Her...hips?" Emilie lightly bumped her hip into David's side.
David prayed to whatever entity would answer that Kitty knew the difference between castigation and castration, and that his death would be swift. David and Kitty weren't even dating. Despite Kitty's belief to the contrary, there really wasn't anything special about him; he was just a horny teenage boy, for god's sake, and that was all he wanted to be. Why were all the cool girls so obsessed with true love? Emilie was an interesting diversion, and that was what he needed, not marriage. He'd judged Emilie the less scary of the two girls who actually wanted him; now he thought differently. Kitty was shaking with murderous rage, this was true, but Emilie was...egging her on. Amused. And talking about him like he was a shiny and new but otherwise unremarkable car she'd managed to acquire. "Uh-"
"SILENCE, CRETIN," Kitty said, looking for all the world to be on the edge of crying or killing. David briefly felt like shoving glass into his eyes to ignore the hurt that fueled both sides, and then just felt annoyed.
"Uh, I. Just wanted to say. Emilie? You're, um...it wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth...anything," David said, then nodded to the both of them, both shocked silent, and walked off, towards the counselor's office. He'd need therapy. Lots and lots and lots of it. Because he did love Kitty, he really did, and he couldn't allow himself to hurt her again. Which, of course, meant getting the hell away from her. Yeah.
Plus, headache. The counselor, at least, would not scream at him or makes plans for his future as a house-husband. Possibly, she wouldn't even castrate him, a fate which was looking less and less avoidable as Emilie laughed like she'd just kicked a rain-soaked kitten and Kitty sob-screamed vengeance for herself and Emilie at his back. And he was kind of feeling like whatever vengeance Kitty would cook up, he would deserve it. On Kitty's behalf, anyway. Emilie...she was worth a good time, but not worth Kitty's friendship. Or a detention. Or a second go-around (or, as the case was...what, twenty-eighth?). Or, like he said, anything. David wished Kitty could see that that was what he meant. Emilie was a good enough friend, if you weren't planning on telling her anything secret, but she wasn't worth Kitty.
When he got to the counselor, she gave him the stink eye and refused his request for Midol, and that was the worst punishment of all. His head wasn't the only thing screaming; Kitty was still screaming bloody infidelity in his brain, and his conscience, damn the thing, sounded an awful lot like Kitty.
It was like that the rest of the day. When he got home, his mother had taken the last of the Midol, and she bitched to him about how useless all men were, and that he was just like his father, always taking and never giving, and when, pray tell, was he going to do the goddamn dishes? She didn't know about his supposed infidelity against Kitty, that girl he wasn't dating. He decided not to tell her. He'd had about a lifetime's worth of feminine wrath. When the phone rang and he ignored it, his mother gave it to him.
"Be a man, you damned little girl," she'd said. "I wish I had had a girl. You'd be a damn sight more likeable if you were."
With his mother singing the praises of his fictional female self's virtues ("If you were a girl, I could have bought you frilly dresses as a little one. If you were a girl, I wouldn't have a problem with you collecting those overpriced dolls you call action figures. If you were a girl, you would be cute instead of weird. If you were a girl, you wouldn't have problems getting dates, and I could look forward easily to being a grandmother!"), David said into the receiver, "Hello?"
"David?" The girl on the other line sounded confused.
"Audra Geary? What the hell?"
"A girl who insists on calling herself someone," Audra said, sounding vaguely unamused, "is telling me to tell you," and here she sounded definitely exasperated, "to look on your front steps."
David did, peering down at them from his bedroom window. There was a flaming bag that David would bet he could guess the contents of, and a blonde-haired girl in a faded bonnet was running, clutching a pink and black cell phone at her side. David sighed. He said, "Tell Kitty that I can see her."
God, and it was only Monday. David ran his hand through his hair, nervously. It was going to be a week from hell..
Author: darkfaerieclaw
Story Continuity: Returning Away
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 1073
Summary: AU. David comes clean about his sexual exploits, Kitty has a cow, and Emilie is so not helping.
Note: Levity? No comprende.
"YOU WHAT."
"Miss Eyre," Mr. Cerveux said, "How predictable. Detention. And give me your test. You, too, David."
"But-" began David, but was interrupted by Kitty: "Your dick. I shall have it for breakfast. It is mine."
Emilie smirked from the seat next to Kitty. "Oh, mmm-hmm. Look, Dave, seems like Kitty wants in on our sexy fun time. What do you say, sugar doll?"
"Um-"
"Uh, kids-" Mr. Cerveux said, at the same time.
"YOU ARE DEAD TO ME, EMILIE LOCKHEART. YOU'RE PLUTO, YOU HEAR ME?"
"Roger, princess," Emilie said. "It's sort of hard not to."
"Out in the hallway, all three of you," Mr. Cerveux said. "And close the door behind you if you can't keep it civilized."
"But this could turn into the catfight of the century!" said Milo, who looked somewhat faint at the idea of missing it. Mr. Cerveux said, "Test. Now."
The three pertinent people - Emilie, Kitty, and David - were loosed into the hallway. Emilie slammed the door behind her because she could, and ignored the shout of "Detention, Emilie!" that followed. She smiled, slow and satisfied, a sated look in her eye. She raised one eyebrow at Kitty, and her smile widened. Kitty's heart imploded. "You - you were my best friend-"
"Were?" Emilie looked mock offended. "But I was just helping you! David knows every trick in the book by now! Of course," she smiled, "he may not want someone so pure and...untainted as you. How about it, Davey? You want to be with someone who won't do the spider with you? Someone who couldn't light a fire with her eyes, let alone her hands? Her...hips?" Emilie lightly bumped her hip into David's side.
David prayed to whatever entity would answer that Kitty knew the difference between castigation and castration, and that his death would be swift. David and Kitty weren't even dating. Despite Kitty's belief to the contrary, there really wasn't anything special about him; he was just a horny teenage boy, for god's sake, and that was all he wanted to be. Why were all the cool girls so obsessed with true love? Emilie was an interesting diversion, and that was what he needed, not marriage. He'd judged Emilie the less scary of the two girls who actually wanted him; now he thought differently. Kitty was shaking with murderous rage, this was true, but Emilie was...egging her on. Amused. And talking about him like he was a shiny and new but otherwise unremarkable car she'd managed to acquire. "Uh-"
"SILENCE, CRETIN," Kitty said, looking for all the world to be on the edge of crying or killing. David briefly felt like shoving glass into his eyes to ignore the hurt that fueled both sides, and then just felt annoyed.
"Uh, I. Just wanted to say. Emilie? You're, um...it wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth...anything," David said, then nodded to the both of them, both shocked silent, and walked off, towards the counselor's office. He'd need therapy. Lots and lots and lots of it. Because he did love Kitty, he really did, and he couldn't allow himself to hurt her again. Which, of course, meant getting the hell away from her. Yeah.
Plus, headache. The counselor, at least, would not scream at him or makes plans for his future as a house-husband. Possibly, she wouldn't even castrate him, a fate which was looking less and less avoidable as Emilie laughed like she'd just kicked a rain-soaked kitten and Kitty sob-screamed vengeance for herself and Emilie at his back. And he was kind of feeling like whatever vengeance Kitty would cook up, he would deserve it. On Kitty's behalf, anyway. Emilie...she was worth a good time, but not worth Kitty's friendship. Or a detention. Or a second go-around (or, as the case was...what, twenty-eighth?). Or, like he said, anything. David wished Kitty could see that that was what he meant. Emilie was a good enough friend, if you weren't planning on telling her anything secret, but she wasn't worth Kitty.
When he got to the counselor, she gave him the stink eye and refused his request for Midol, and that was the worst punishment of all. His head wasn't the only thing screaming; Kitty was still screaming bloody infidelity in his brain, and his conscience, damn the thing, sounded an awful lot like Kitty.
It was like that the rest of the day. When he got home, his mother had taken the last of the Midol, and she bitched to him about how useless all men were, and that he was just like his father, always taking and never giving, and when, pray tell, was he going to do the goddamn dishes? She didn't know about his supposed infidelity against Kitty, that girl he wasn't dating. He decided not to tell her. He'd had about a lifetime's worth of feminine wrath. When the phone rang and he ignored it, his mother gave it to him.
"Be a man, you damned little girl," she'd said. "I wish I had had a girl. You'd be a damn sight more likeable if you were."
With his mother singing the praises of his fictional female self's virtues ("If you were a girl, I could have bought you frilly dresses as a little one. If you were a girl, I wouldn't have a problem with you collecting those overpriced dolls you call action figures. If you were a girl, you would be cute instead of weird. If you were a girl, you wouldn't have problems getting dates, and I could look forward easily to being a grandmother!"), David said into the receiver, "Hello?"
"David?" The girl on the other line sounded confused.
"Audra Geary? What the hell?"
"A girl who insists on calling herself someone," Audra said, sounding vaguely unamused, "is telling me to tell you," and here she sounded definitely exasperated, "to look on your front steps."
David did, peering down at them from his bedroom window. There was a flaming bag that David would bet he could guess the contents of, and a blonde-haired girl in a faded bonnet was running, clutching a pink and black cell phone at her side. David sighed. He said, "Tell Kitty that I can see her."
God, and it was only Monday. David ran his hand through his hair, nervously. It was going to be a week from hell..