Failing
Rating: PG
Fandom: Runaways
Characters: Yorkeses
Prompt: Failure
Notes: For the Lover100 challenge.
Disclaimer: This is me owning nothing.
Summary: Dale's gonna fail BritLit.
091: Failure
"Zimmer! My darling Stacey!"
She turned and gave Dale an exasperated look. "What?"
He smiled brightly. "I’m going to fail Brit Lit. Help me?"
Stacey rolled her eyes. "If you’d put your…self back in your pants and maybe go to class sometimes, you wouldn’t have this problem."
Dale nodded. "True. But then I’d have to stop making love to you and, well, start going to class."
She plunked her head down on the desk. "Fine. Sit. What do you have to do?"
He set a pile of papers and books down on the desk. It towered. She gaped.
"This," he said simply. "And it’s due tomorrow."
"What?"
"It’s due tomorrow."
"I’ll kill you!"
He ducked and the pen she hurled at him zipped over his head. "Please, Stacey?"
She sighed, frustrated. "Fine. It’s got to be doable. Start at the top."
He pulled the top paper off of the stack. "William Shakespeare."
"You’re that far behind?"
"I’ve gone to class all of five times this semester."
She took a deep breath. "Notes are in the third drawer, under ‘10th to 15th’ and then under ‘S’."
Dale grinned and reached for hard copies of her perfect notes.
Fandom: Runaways
Characters: Yorkeses
Prompt: Failure
Notes: For the Lover100 challenge.
Disclaimer: This is me owning nothing.
Summary: Dale's gonna fail BritLit.
091: Failure
"Zimmer! My darling Stacey!"
She turned and gave Dale an exasperated look. "What?"
He smiled brightly. "I’m going to fail Brit Lit. Help me?"
Stacey rolled her eyes. "If you’d put your…self back in your pants and maybe go to class sometimes, you wouldn’t have this problem."
Dale nodded. "True. But then I’d have to stop making love to you and, well, start going to class."
She plunked her head down on the desk. "Fine. Sit. What do you have to do?"
He set a pile of papers and books down on the desk. It towered. She gaped.
"This," he said simply. "And it’s due tomorrow."
"What?"
"It’s due tomorrow."
"I’ll kill you!"
He ducked and the pen she hurled at him zipped over his head. "Please, Stacey?"
She sighed, frustrated. "Fine. It’s got to be doable. Start at the top."
He pulled the top paper off of the stack. "William Shakespeare."
"You’re that far behind?"
"I’ve gone to class all of five times this semester."
She took a deep breath. "Notes are in the third drawer, under ‘10th to 15th’ and then under ‘S’."
Dale grinned and reached for hard copies of her perfect notes.