Honeydew; Bunny Tracks; Marshmallow
Author: Indie
Challenge: Honeydew #11 (Drastic measures), Marshmallow #29 (tattled on / ratted out), Bunny Tracks #23 (High speed chase)
Word Count: 1,796
Rating: PG
Story: Rylie, Nolan, Zia
Timeline: Rylie, three months pregnant, which is about two months into living with Nolan.
Summary: Zia kept her eyes on him. She knew his heart, knew what he was going to say to his stupid Sunflower Girl before he said it, but somehow she still found herself flinching. Rylie was so wasted she hardly remembered her own name, she wouldn't remember what he'd said after he'd carried her home and tucked her into bed, but Zee would. She shook her head. "You're in way too deep," she told him, but he was too busy holding Rylie's hair off of her neck while a night's worth of mixed drinks poured from her mouth to hear her.
Notes: Because I guess I just like hurting my favorite boy. :3
Zia was sitting in his living room when he started to fidget, and moved to his kitchen with him when he needed more room to pace. He was crossing in front of her, over and over, getting rid of his nervous energy the only way he knew how, plucking at his phone every few minutes, flipping it open to see if the time, or amount of unread messages had changed in the past six seconds.
"You're making me dizzy," she told him.
"Don't watch me then," he snapped at her. Zia started at him levelly until he blushed. "Sorry babe," he said to another man's wife the way only emotionally invested men and gay guys can. "I just --" he floundered, and she shouldn't have made him finish, because she knew what he was trying to say. "She should be home by now."
The way he said home made her frown. "So call her."
"I'm not her father," he said, frowning. "And by that I mean I keep getting her voicemail."
She'd come to watch a movie, but apperantly that wasn't her fate. She held out a hand for his phone. He looked at her hand cautiously, like a feral kitty deciding if being hand-fed was worth the risk of capture.
Zee snorted. "I'm not gonna talk trash," she said, and he gave her his phone with a sheepish smile.
She handed it back to him when she'd transferred the number into her own phone. "Yo baby," she said, trying to sound sexier and more fun than she was, when a man answered the phone. She covered the bottom half of her phone with her hand delicately. He was looking at her wide-eyed and wounded when she said, "I thought it might help to have a girls name on the caller ID."
"Hey, were is my girl Rylie?" She tapped her fingers against the countertop in an agitated manner as she listened to the layers of sounds from the other end of the phone, music and voices, all drowning each other out.
"I dunno," he eventually told her, after she explained that Rylie was the owner of the phone he'd answered, "It's Ky's house, though ... so that's probably a good start?"
"Do you know a Ky?" Zia asked Nolan, not bothering to cover the reciever this time. Nolan didn't even answer her, just snatched his keys from the counter a one lightning-reflexed swoop with one hand, gesturing for her to move towards the door, endelay. Zia trailed behind him, as he practically dove into his car, and really, looking at it, she thought for the millionth time, how dare he make fun of her frumpy car?
He leaned across and opened her door, and she sighed and got in, still on the phone. "Well, can you please call me if you see her? She's kind of little with dark hair, uh ... yeah, yes. Thanks."
He wound around, out of his neighborhood, body and face tense. "We're not going far. Just down Main until Bluejay."
Zia pursed her lips and frowned, but then got a hold of herself. Nolan had fallen in love with a Rylie, not an Elliot, not some wholesome soft spoken girl scout like he should have. You couldn't help these things. Her face softened, and she reached over and wrapped her hand around his tense wrist.
"It's only two AM," Zia told him, softly, as if he hadn't been checking the clock on his phone, every three minutes.
"Who's keeping score?" He jaw was clenched, but she could hear the good humor creeping into the edge of his voice.
"I'm just saying, she's been home later."
The silence sprawled between them, long and tense like a rubber band. "... Not at her ex dealers house."
There was nothing she could say to that, so she just ran her thumb over his pulse until he stopped in the parking lot of the Sunny Hill Apartments. "It's going to be okay. We're probably overreacting," she said, even though she didn't know that, and there was no we. Well, there was a we, because she'd support him, and Rylie was starting to grow on her, but she wasn't tripping over herself over her being out past midnight. Rylie wasn't a little girl, she didn't have a curfew.
She was almost getting caught up in the excitement, though, following him as fast as her legs could take him, keeping her eyes focused on the tense line of his shoulders.
He punched the elevator "Up" button, but didn't wait for more than a split second before starting up the stairs, using his long legs to take them three at a time. She scuttled behind him all the way to the fourth floor. He strode confidently toward the right, and she heard the door bing behind them after a few moments.
The music had enveloped the entire floor, voiceless but with a pounding bassline. The whole place was making her tremble. She crossed her arms and rubbed her hands along her emerging goosebumps, and he tucked her against his side when he noticed. Half a dozen doors were open, and he took a quick look in each, filled with lounging people and heady smoke, but didn't go in to any but 412, where people were dancing, but there was no sign of his Sunflower Girl.
By the time he found her, he looked like a drowning man. She was propped against the wall, head tilted backwards and long lines of her neck exposed, in what was probably Ky's bedroom. He crouched down and picked her up like a lifeline. Zia felt like an intruder.
Nolan sniffed at her neck, cautiously as he heard footsteps behind him.
"What are you doing in -- oh." Zia whirled to the door where a slight Asian man was standing. Nolan whirled around, too. Rylies dangling arm slapped against him, and he looked down at her gently -- picking her hand up gingerly and tucking it between his torso and her chest before looking back at him.
"Are you Ky?" he asked, but it wasn't really a question. The fire was back in his eyes now that his despair and frustration had an object.
"Yeah, yeah, you must be Nolan!" Ky didn't sound nervous.
Nolan frowned. Zia stood close to his elbow, as if he could protect her from too-loud music and creepy parties. The smoke in his apartment was making her eyes water. "Did you let her get like this?"
Zia set her teeth and crossed her arms again against the new goosebumps as he spoke, frowning. "It's my party, so sure, but I'm also the reason she's here, not passed out and getting molested in the hallway."
Nolan snorted. "Just looking out for her welfare, I guess, just a concerned citizen?"
Ky seemed confused. She was standing so close to Nolan that Rylie's dark hair was tickling her arm. She brushed it back to get it out of her way, and Nolan mistook it for an affectionate gesture, giving her a tight, tense smile.
"I would never let anything happen to Somewhere," he said indignantly, and Nolan's face exploded in anger.
"You --" he spluttered. "You!" He seemed to have been robbed of the rest of his lexicon, but then he shook his head, seemingly remembering what he needed to do. He pressed past him, and the other man stepped aside dumbly as he made his way to the bathroom. "You sold drugs to a pregnant girl," he said, shooting the accusation over his shoulder.
"What? Princess isn't pregnant," he said, but he sounded shaken, following him the same way Zia had too: three steps for every stride of his.
Nolan didn't even respond, crouching again with her in his arms in the bathroom. Nolan turned for a fleeting instant, eyes bright like the flicker of light off a knife, and scowled. "And your idiotic parties are the reason she's in this mess."
Ky's face crumpled like a collapsed house. "What?" he spluttered, and Zia took that moment to push him out of the already overcrowded bathroom. He didn't resist her, and she closed the door between them before turning back to Nolan, his itty bitty Sunflower Girl in his arms, her hair sweaty and flyaway.
He adjusted her, supporting as much of her as he could, and whispered, rubbing her face. "You have to wake up, babe, yes, come on, time to open your eyes." He kept talking, repeating himself over and over, and looking at her so gently that Zia knew that in his mind, at that moment, she didn't even exist.
Zia kept her eyes on him. She knew his heart, knew what he was going to say to his stupid Sunflower Girl before he said it, but somehow she still found herself flinching. He said it, and then put his finger in her mouth, batting at her uvula gently, like a cat with a ball of yarn.
Rylie was so wasted she hardly remembered her own name, she wouldn't remember what he'd said after he'd carried her home and tucked her into bed, but Zee would.
She shook her head. "You're in way too deep," she told him, but he was too busy holding Rylie's hair off of her neck while a night's worth of mixed drinks poured from her mouth to hear her.
Even later, when Nolan was laying her down in his small back seat, and Ky, who had followed him all the way to his car, was still trying to talk ("I meant what I said," he said, and not much else.) it was still echoing in her ears.
"I would never let anything happen," Ky repeated, his words dripping with emotion. Zia climbed into the front seat, and let him deal with defending his lady's honor, or whatever.
Nolan looked at him critically. "For this being your party, you sound really..."
"... Parties are business, not pleasure, dude. I don't dip into the pot. I don't dip into anything, actually. That's bad business."
Nolan shut the door to his backseat forcefully, but remembered himself at the last second and tugged on the handle to stop the slam, closing it gently instead.
"That what," he said, voice low and angry, and Zia, through a layer of glass and metal, shivered at the edge in his voice, "were you doing while Rylie was getting raped in your complex?"
Ky's mouth dropped, and he was stuttering and confused, and getting tangled in dates and trying to figure out what Nolan was talking about, but all Zia could hear was Nolan's words, echoing like they had against the cold tile in the bathroom, "You can't do this to my baby."
Of course he did, she thought, rubbing her temples. Of course stupid, idiotic, beautiful Nolan though of her unborn child as his. That was so like him. She could just feel the impending heartbreak.
Challenge: Honeydew #11 (Drastic measures), Marshmallow #29 (tattled on / ratted out), Bunny Tracks #23 (High speed chase)
Word Count: 1,796
Rating: PG
Story: Rylie, Nolan, Zia
Timeline: Rylie, three months pregnant, which is about two months into living with Nolan.
Summary: Zia kept her eyes on him. She knew his heart, knew what he was going to say to his stupid Sunflower Girl before he said it, but somehow she still found herself flinching. Rylie was so wasted she hardly remembered her own name, she wouldn't remember what he'd said after he'd carried her home and tucked her into bed, but Zee would. She shook her head. "You're in way too deep," she told him, but he was too busy holding Rylie's hair off of her neck while a night's worth of mixed drinks poured from her mouth to hear her.
Notes: Because I guess I just like hurting my favorite boy. :3
Zia was sitting in his living room when he started to fidget, and moved to his kitchen with him when he needed more room to pace. He was crossing in front of her, over and over, getting rid of his nervous energy the only way he knew how, plucking at his phone every few minutes, flipping it open to see if the time, or amount of unread messages had changed in the past six seconds.
"You're making me dizzy," she told him.
"Don't watch me then," he snapped at her. Zia started at him levelly until he blushed. "Sorry babe," he said to another man's wife the way only emotionally invested men and gay guys can. "I just --" he floundered, and she shouldn't have made him finish, because she knew what he was trying to say. "She should be home by now."
The way he said home made her frown. "So call her."
"I'm not her father," he said, frowning. "And by that I mean I keep getting her voicemail."
She'd come to watch a movie, but apperantly that wasn't her fate. She held out a hand for his phone. He looked at her hand cautiously, like a feral kitty deciding if being hand-fed was worth the risk of capture.
Zee snorted. "I'm not gonna talk trash," she said, and he gave her his phone with a sheepish smile.
She handed it back to him when she'd transferred the number into her own phone. "Yo baby," she said, trying to sound sexier and more fun than she was, when a man answered the phone. She covered the bottom half of her phone with her hand delicately. He was looking at her wide-eyed and wounded when she said, "I thought it might help to have a girls name on the caller ID."
"Hey, were is my girl Rylie?" She tapped her fingers against the countertop in an agitated manner as she listened to the layers of sounds from the other end of the phone, music and voices, all drowning each other out.
"I dunno," he eventually told her, after she explained that Rylie was the owner of the phone he'd answered, "It's Ky's house, though ... so that's probably a good start?"
"Do you know a Ky?" Zia asked Nolan, not bothering to cover the reciever this time. Nolan didn't even answer her, just snatched his keys from the counter a one lightning-reflexed swoop with one hand, gesturing for her to move towards the door, endelay. Zia trailed behind him, as he practically dove into his car, and really, looking at it, she thought for the millionth time, how dare he make fun of her frumpy car?
He leaned across and opened her door, and she sighed and got in, still on the phone. "Well, can you please call me if you see her? She's kind of little with dark hair, uh ... yeah, yes. Thanks."
He wound around, out of his neighborhood, body and face tense. "We're not going far. Just down Main until Bluejay."
Zia pursed her lips and frowned, but then got a hold of herself. Nolan had fallen in love with a Rylie, not an Elliot, not some wholesome soft spoken girl scout like he should have. You couldn't help these things. Her face softened, and she reached over and wrapped her hand around his tense wrist.
"It's only two AM," Zia told him, softly, as if he hadn't been checking the clock on his phone, every three minutes.
"Who's keeping score?" He jaw was clenched, but she could hear the good humor creeping into the edge of his voice.
"I'm just saying, she's been home later."
The silence sprawled between them, long and tense like a rubber band. "... Not at her ex dealers house."
There was nothing she could say to that, so she just ran her thumb over his pulse until he stopped in the parking lot of the Sunny Hill Apartments. "It's going to be okay. We're probably overreacting," she said, even though she didn't know that, and there was no we. Well, there was a we, because she'd support him, and Rylie was starting to grow on her, but she wasn't tripping over herself over her being out past midnight. Rylie wasn't a little girl, she didn't have a curfew.
She was almost getting caught up in the excitement, though, following him as fast as her legs could take him, keeping her eyes focused on the tense line of his shoulders.
He punched the elevator "Up" button, but didn't wait for more than a split second before starting up the stairs, using his long legs to take them three at a time. She scuttled behind him all the way to the fourth floor. He strode confidently toward the right, and she heard the door bing behind them after a few moments.
The music had enveloped the entire floor, voiceless but with a pounding bassline. The whole place was making her tremble. She crossed her arms and rubbed her hands along her emerging goosebumps, and he tucked her against his side when he noticed. Half a dozen doors were open, and he took a quick look in each, filled with lounging people and heady smoke, but didn't go in to any but 412, where people were dancing, but there was no sign of his Sunflower Girl.
By the time he found her, he looked like a drowning man. She was propped against the wall, head tilted backwards and long lines of her neck exposed, in what was probably Ky's bedroom. He crouched down and picked her up like a lifeline. Zia felt like an intruder.
Nolan sniffed at her neck, cautiously as he heard footsteps behind him.
"What are you doing in -- oh." Zia whirled to the door where a slight Asian man was standing. Nolan whirled around, too. Rylies dangling arm slapped against him, and he looked down at her gently -- picking her hand up gingerly and tucking it between his torso and her chest before looking back at him.
"Are you Ky?" he asked, but it wasn't really a question. The fire was back in his eyes now that his despair and frustration had an object.
"Yeah, yeah, you must be Nolan!" Ky didn't sound nervous.
Nolan frowned. Zia stood close to his elbow, as if he could protect her from too-loud music and creepy parties. The smoke in his apartment was making her eyes water. "Did you let her get like this?"
Zia set her teeth and crossed her arms again against the new goosebumps as he spoke, frowning. "It's my party, so sure, but I'm also the reason she's here, not passed out and getting molested in the hallway."
Nolan snorted. "Just looking out for her welfare, I guess, just a concerned citizen?"
Ky seemed confused. She was standing so close to Nolan that Rylie's dark hair was tickling her arm. She brushed it back to get it out of her way, and Nolan mistook it for an affectionate gesture, giving her a tight, tense smile.
"I would never let anything happen to Somewhere," he said indignantly, and Nolan's face exploded in anger.
"You --" he spluttered. "You!" He seemed to have been robbed of the rest of his lexicon, but then he shook his head, seemingly remembering what he needed to do. He pressed past him, and the other man stepped aside dumbly as he made his way to the bathroom. "You sold drugs to a pregnant girl," he said, shooting the accusation over his shoulder.
"What? Princess isn't pregnant," he said, but he sounded shaken, following him the same way Zia had too: three steps for every stride of his.
Nolan didn't even respond, crouching again with her in his arms in the bathroom. Nolan turned for a fleeting instant, eyes bright like the flicker of light off a knife, and scowled. "And your idiotic parties are the reason she's in this mess."
Ky's face crumpled like a collapsed house. "What?" he spluttered, and Zia took that moment to push him out of the already overcrowded bathroom. He didn't resist her, and she closed the door between them before turning back to Nolan, his itty bitty Sunflower Girl in his arms, her hair sweaty and flyaway.
He adjusted her, supporting as much of her as he could, and whispered, rubbing her face. "You have to wake up, babe, yes, come on, time to open your eyes." He kept talking, repeating himself over and over, and looking at her so gently that Zia knew that in his mind, at that moment, she didn't even exist.
Zia kept her eyes on him. She knew his heart, knew what he was going to say to his stupid Sunflower Girl before he said it, but somehow she still found herself flinching. He said it, and then put his finger in her mouth, batting at her uvula gently, like a cat with a ball of yarn.
Rylie was so wasted she hardly remembered her own name, she wouldn't remember what he'd said after he'd carried her home and tucked her into bed, but Zee would.
She shook her head. "You're in way too deep," she told him, but he was too busy holding Rylie's hair off of her neck while a night's worth of mixed drinks poured from her mouth to hear her.
Even later, when Nolan was laying her down in his small back seat, and Ky, who had followed him all the way to his car, was still trying to talk ("I meant what I said," he said, and not much else.) it was still echoing in her ears.
"I would never let anything happen," Ky repeated, his words dripping with emotion. Zia climbed into the front seat, and let him deal with defending his lady's honor, or whatever.
Nolan looked at him critically. "For this being your party, you sound really..."
"... Parties are business, not pleasure, dude. I don't dip into the pot. I don't dip into anything, actually. That's bad business."
Nolan shut the door to his backseat forcefully, but remembered himself at the last second and tugged on the handle to stop the slam, closing it gently instead.
"That what," he said, voice low and angry, and Zia, through a layer of glass and metal, shivered at the edge in his voice, "were you doing while Rylie was getting raped in your complex?"
Ky's mouth dropped, and he was stuttering and confused, and getting tangled in dates and trying to figure out what Nolan was talking about, but all Zia could hear was Nolan's words, echoing like they had against the cold tile in the bathroom, "You can't do this to my baby."
Of course he did, she thought, rubbing her temples. Of course stupid, idiotic, beautiful Nolan though of her unborn child as his. That was so like him. She could just feel the impending heartbreak.