Rainbow Sherbet 12: Kneejerk
Title: Kneejerk
Main Story: In The Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Rainbow sherbet 12 (gold), malt (PFAH: Aaron: it's uncool to be common).
Word Count: 1306
Rating: PG-13 for some swearing.
Summary: Esther is really confused by these people.
Notes: Follows this.
"I can't believe you're making me do this," Esther said, clutching her purse nervously.
Lars, who was leaning casually against the other side of the elevator, blinked at her. "Sorry? You agreed to come."
"No," she said. "No, I did not agree to come. You told me I was coming and I decided not to fight you on it."
"Esther," Lars said, in a very patient tone, "hon, if you didn't want to be here, you wouldn't. I have absolute faith in your ability to say no."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you're the most argumentative person that I know," Lars said. "And when you meet Ivy, you will understand what an honor that is."
The elevator doors opened and Lars made his escape before Esther finished processing that. She snarled, and chased after him, and managed one good whack with her purse before he put up both hands and said, "Uncle! Uncle. We're here, anyway."
She gave him a suspicious glare, but stood back and let him knock. At an unintelligible holler from inside the room, he opened the door and bowed Esther in.
A woman, a man, and a very small girl looked up at her from a weirdly contorted pile in the middle of the room. The woman sprawled loosely across an incredibly ugly couch, her spine curved along the couch back, her feet resting on the man, who lay full-length on the floor, very still. The small girl, who had only glanced up indifferently, concentrated intently on painting his toenails gold. Behind them, a TV played some movie Esther hadn't seen and didn't care to-- it looked like a bad action movie.
"Everyone," Lars said, proudly, "this is Esther. Esther, everyone. Aaron, you can do the specific honors, I'm getting a beer."
"Hi," Aaron-- or Esther assumed it was Aaron, anyway; she supposed one of the girls could be an Erin-- said, lifting his head.
"Don't move!" the girl snapped.
"Sorry," he said hastily, and put his head back down. "I'd get up, Esther, but I can't disturb Summer."
Summer. So that was Lars's Summer. Somehow she was a lot younger than Esther had pictured her. Also a lot more abrupt.
"That's right," the woman said. On second thought, she was less of a woman and more of a girl-- maybe sixteen to eighteen, where Aaron was closer to Lars's age. "Know your place."
He squinted at her. "And what is my place?"
"Royal footrest," she said. "Duh."
"It's so good to be honored," he said, dryly.
"I am so confused," Esther announced.
Aaron laughed. "Right, sorry. Good to meet you, Esther. I'm Aaron--" right, so no Erins, then-- "and these are my sisters. Summer's painting my toenails and Ivy's taking up my couch."
Which was informative but not what she'd asked, exactly. Esther considered glaring. Since she hadn't specifically asked... she sighed, and said, "Great to meet you."
"Doesn't sound like it," Ivy commented, from the couch. "Lars mention anything about us?"
Well, she had no idea how to respond to that. "He wanted me to meet one of you. Aaron, I think."
Ivy sat up at that, and eyed her narrowly. "Huh. Is he matchmaking?"
"He had better not be," Esther snapped, and when Lars wandered back in, beer in hand, said to him, "You had better not be matchmaking, you bas--" small child, small child! "--jerk!"
Summer lifted her head and gave her a quite calm look. "I know what bastard means," she informed Esther, and returned her attention to her task.
Lars sighed. "Oh, for Christ's sake. Who taught her that?"
Aaron somehow managed to convey a shrug using only his eyebrows. "Who do you think?"
"Fuck you," Ivy said, cheerfully. "Both. And I'll have you know that bastard is Danny's fault. Anybody want popcorn?"
"Please," Aaron said. Summer raised her hand without looking up.
Esther wondered if these people were, in fact, sane.
Ivy climbed off the couch (going over the back rather than trying to step around Aaron and Summer, which was either crazy or brilliant-- Esther hadn't decided). "I'll make us a bowl," she said. "Go ahead and sit down, Esther. We won't bite."
"Unless you ask nice," Lars amended, from his position leaning next to the kitchen door. Esther suppressed an exasperated eyeroll-- couldn't she have a reasonable conversation without someone bringing sex into it?
"Sorry, babe, so not interested," Ivy said. She bypassed Lars and ducked into the kitchen.
Lars wandered over and plopped down next to Aaron on the ground. "Hey, sweetheart."
Esther suffered a brief moment of utter confusion-- she'd pegged Lars as straight-- but it was Summer, not Aaron, who answered. He'd mentioned they were close, but the kid was, well, a kid, so she'd assumed... "Hi, Lars. May I paint your toenails?"
"Sure," he said, and toed his shoes off. "Can I have gold too?"
"May I," Summer corrected, startling Esther. Girl couldn't be more than six and she was correcting his grammar? "Why?"
"It's shiny," he said.
Okay. Maybe Lars was the six-year-old.
Summer considered this, then nodded gravely. "All right. You can have gold." She capped the nail polish carefully, then looked down at Aaron. "You can move now. Don't smear it."
"Thanks, baby girl." Aaron hoisted himself to a sitting position, ruffled Summer's hair (to no great effect, since it was braided) and got to his feet in a peculiar sort of maneuver that involved hauling himself to a standing position by the couch and holding his toes off the floor once he got there. Summer, who had eyed him narrowly throughout the entire operation, nodded approvingly, and scooted over to Lars's feet.
Esther, still standing by the door, watched the entire thing with fascination and a bit of trepidation.
"Seriously," Aaron said, walking over to her, balancing entirely on his heels the entire way. "You can sit down."
"Not if Lars is matchmaking," Esther said, darkly. "He ducked the question."
"He did," Aaron said, "but he wouldn't try to pair us up anyway, he knows better." He leaned against the wall and watched Summer order Lars around with a fond expression on his face.
Esther arched an eyebrow. "Why? You gay?"
"No," he said. "Asexual."
Her jaw dropped, and she stared at him for a moment. Was he serious?
...well, if Lars really was matchmaking, maybe she wouldn't kill him. Maybe she'd just let him off with a maiming.
Aaron, in the meantime, had completely misinterpreted her expression. "Yes, really," he said, just a hint of testiness in his voice. "No, it's not a chemical imbalance, no, I don't need to meet the right person, yes, I've tried it and it wasn't any fun. Does that cover everything you were going to say?"
"No," Esther said, "because what I was actually going to say was, 'oh my God, you too?'"
He opened his mouth, closed it again, blinked, and said, "Oh. Sorry. Knee-jerk reaction."
"No worries," she said, and smiled. "I do that too sometimes. It's kinda fun hollering at the idiots, though, don't you think? I was almost disappointed when Lars refused to be stupid."
Aaron shook his head. "Frankly, I'd rather people just let it go. I hate confrontation."
Damn. Oh well. She hadn't actually come here looking for a date. "To each his own," she said.
"It'd be really boring otherwise," he agreed.
About then, Ivy came out of the kitchen holding a bowl of popcorn and wearing an apologetic expression. "Hey, Aaron? You weren't fond of that big plate on the drying rack, were you?"
Aaron looked briefly as if he'd like to swear, but he only sighed, and said, "Okay. Lead me to the mess."
"You're the best big brother ever," Ivy said, and beamed at him. Esther snorted.
Main Story: In The Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Rainbow sherbet 12 (gold), malt (PFAH: Aaron: it's uncool to be common).
Word Count: 1306
Rating: PG-13 for some swearing.
Summary: Esther is really confused by these people.
Notes: Follows this.
"I can't believe you're making me do this," Esther said, clutching her purse nervously.
Lars, who was leaning casually against the other side of the elevator, blinked at her. "Sorry? You agreed to come."
"No," she said. "No, I did not agree to come. You told me I was coming and I decided not to fight you on it."
"Esther," Lars said, in a very patient tone, "hon, if you didn't want to be here, you wouldn't. I have absolute faith in your ability to say no."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you're the most argumentative person that I know," Lars said. "And when you meet Ivy, you will understand what an honor that is."
The elevator doors opened and Lars made his escape before Esther finished processing that. She snarled, and chased after him, and managed one good whack with her purse before he put up both hands and said, "Uncle! Uncle. We're here, anyway."
She gave him a suspicious glare, but stood back and let him knock. At an unintelligible holler from inside the room, he opened the door and bowed Esther in.
A woman, a man, and a very small girl looked up at her from a weirdly contorted pile in the middle of the room. The woman sprawled loosely across an incredibly ugly couch, her spine curved along the couch back, her feet resting on the man, who lay full-length on the floor, very still. The small girl, who had only glanced up indifferently, concentrated intently on painting his toenails gold. Behind them, a TV played some movie Esther hadn't seen and didn't care to-- it looked like a bad action movie.
"Everyone," Lars said, proudly, "this is Esther. Esther, everyone. Aaron, you can do the specific honors, I'm getting a beer."
"Hi," Aaron-- or Esther assumed it was Aaron, anyway; she supposed one of the girls could be an Erin-- said, lifting his head.
"Don't move!" the girl snapped.
"Sorry," he said hastily, and put his head back down. "I'd get up, Esther, but I can't disturb Summer."
Summer. So that was Lars's Summer. Somehow she was a lot younger than Esther had pictured her. Also a lot more abrupt.
"That's right," the woman said. On second thought, she was less of a woman and more of a girl-- maybe sixteen to eighteen, where Aaron was closer to Lars's age. "Know your place."
He squinted at her. "And what is my place?"
"Royal footrest," she said. "Duh."
"It's so good to be honored," he said, dryly.
"I am so confused," Esther announced.
Aaron laughed. "Right, sorry. Good to meet you, Esther. I'm Aaron--" right, so no Erins, then-- "and these are my sisters. Summer's painting my toenails and Ivy's taking up my couch."
Which was informative but not what she'd asked, exactly. Esther considered glaring. Since she hadn't specifically asked... she sighed, and said, "Great to meet you."
"Doesn't sound like it," Ivy commented, from the couch. "Lars mention anything about us?"
Well, she had no idea how to respond to that. "He wanted me to meet one of you. Aaron, I think."
Ivy sat up at that, and eyed her narrowly. "Huh. Is he matchmaking?"
"He had better not be," Esther snapped, and when Lars wandered back in, beer in hand, said to him, "You had better not be matchmaking, you bas--" small child, small child! "--jerk!"
Summer lifted her head and gave her a quite calm look. "I know what bastard means," she informed Esther, and returned her attention to her task.
Lars sighed. "Oh, for Christ's sake. Who taught her that?"
Aaron somehow managed to convey a shrug using only his eyebrows. "Who do you think?"
"Fuck you," Ivy said, cheerfully. "Both. And I'll have you know that bastard is Danny's fault. Anybody want popcorn?"
"Please," Aaron said. Summer raised her hand without looking up.
Esther wondered if these people were, in fact, sane.
Ivy climbed off the couch (going over the back rather than trying to step around Aaron and Summer, which was either crazy or brilliant-- Esther hadn't decided). "I'll make us a bowl," she said. "Go ahead and sit down, Esther. We won't bite."
"Unless you ask nice," Lars amended, from his position leaning next to the kitchen door. Esther suppressed an exasperated eyeroll-- couldn't she have a reasonable conversation without someone bringing sex into it?
"Sorry, babe, so not interested," Ivy said. She bypassed Lars and ducked into the kitchen.
Lars wandered over and plopped down next to Aaron on the ground. "Hey, sweetheart."
Esther suffered a brief moment of utter confusion-- she'd pegged Lars as straight-- but it was Summer, not Aaron, who answered. He'd mentioned they were close, but the kid was, well, a kid, so she'd assumed... "Hi, Lars. May I paint your toenails?"
"Sure," he said, and toed his shoes off. "Can I have gold too?"
"May I," Summer corrected, startling Esther. Girl couldn't be more than six and she was correcting his grammar? "Why?"
"It's shiny," he said.
Okay. Maybe Lars was the six-year-old.
Summer considered this, then nodded gravely. "All right. You can have gold." She capped the nail polish carefully, then looked down at Aaron. "You can move now. Don't smear it."
"Thanks, baby girl." Aaron hoisted himself to a sitting position, ruffled Summer's hair (to no great effect, since it was braided) and got to his feet in a peculiar sort of maneuver that involved hauling himself to a standing position by the couch and holding his toes off the floor once he got there. Summer, who had eyed him narrowly throughout the entire operation, nodded approvingly, and scooted over to Lars's feet.
Esther, still standing by the door, watched the entire thing with fascination and a bit of trepidation.
"Seriously," Aaron said, walking over to her, balancing entirely on his heels the entire way. "You can sit down."
"Not if Lars is matchmaking," Esther said, darkly. "He ducked the question."
"He did," Aaron said, "but he wouldn't try to pair us up anyway, he knows better." He leaned against the wall and watched Summer order Lars around with a fond expression on his face.
Esther arched an eyebrow. "Why? You gay?"
"No," he said. "Asexual."
Her jaw dropped, and she stared at him for a moment. Was he serious?
...well, if Lars really was matchmaking, maybe she wouldn't kill him. Maybe she'd just let him off with a maiming.
Aaron, in the meantime, had completely misinterpreted her expression. "Yes, really," he said, just a hint of testiness in his voice. "No, it's not a chemical imbalance, no, I don't need to meet the right person, yes, I've tried it and it wasn't any fun. Does that cover everything you were going to say?"
"No," Esther said, "because what I was actually going to say was, 'oh my God, you too?'"
He opened his mouth, closed it again, blinked, and said, "Oh. Sorry. Knee-jerk reaction."
"No worries," she said, and smiled. "I do that too sometimes. It's kinda fun hollering at the idiots, though, don't you think? I was almost disappointed when Lars refused to be stupid."
Aaron shook his head. "Frankly, I'd rather people just let it go. I hate confrontation."
Damn. Oh well. She hadn't actually come here looking for a date. "To each his own," she said.
"It'd be really boring otherwise," he agreed.
About then, Ivy came out of the kitchen holding a bowl of popcorn and wearing an apologetic expression. "Hey, Aaron? You weren't fond of that big plate on the drying rack, were you?"
Aaron looked briefly as if he'd like to swear, but he only sighed, and said, "Okay. Lead me to the mess."
"You're the best big brother ever," Ivy said, and beamed at him. Esther snorted.