Fanfic time: Misfits part 14

Continued from yesterday:

  “Yo cute when you laugh,” Todd grinned. Sara giggled harder but shook her head. 

  “You don’t think I sound like a committed chipmunk on crystal meth?" 

  "Naw,” Todd answered back, straight faced. Then he lost his composure and fell over sideways onto the bed. His laughter was just a bit on the nasal side, but contagious. Soon both of them were rendered helpless for no clear reason. 

  Sara stopped laughing only when her throat developed a tickle that would not be coughed away. She took another long draught from her mug. 

  Todd sat up and scooched next to her. While she drank he busied himself with brushing a few elbow scales free of their dead skin covering. Sara thrummed appreciatively, and by the time she put down the water Todd’s fingers were stroking her arm in intricate patterns. She studied him for a moment, watching his amber eyes focused adoringly on her body, following the movement of his hand as it trailed down to her hand. 

  Sara leaned down and kissed his jaw in a non-distractive way, allowing him to maintain as much focus as possible on his loving task. She didn’t want him to stop; ever. It felt… *right*. Some other part of her that seemed long ago and far away might have blushed to death, but she was far too happy to die now. 

  That wasn’t to say she no longer doubted her actions; her heart fluttered as she kissed Todd again. This time under the jaw, on the neck. His skin was soft, beautiful. Somewhat dryer than might be normal, but it felt cool to the touch. Sara wanted more of it and that thought scared her. Her eyes sought safer territory and met his eyes. He returned her gaze calmly, but though his hand did not stop stroking patterns on her skin, it trembled and hesitated for the briefest of moments. 

  Both were too afraid to speak. Neither knew what to *say*. Being loved was such a novel experience and it was too much. Overwhelming. Sara felt the boxes in her mind start to quake a bit. They wanted to open, to spill everything out onto Todd. They wanted him to make it okay. She did too, but what if they were wrong? What if she talked too much and scared him away? _Not yet,_ she told them. Ever obedient, they kept their lids on firmly. 

  Sara didn’t want to deal with it anyway, even if there was some remote chance Todd *could* make it all better. The boxes became unimportant, almost non-existent. She could see the future in his eyes. 

  It was full of sandy-haired children with green eyes and scales tackling each other and trying to outjump their father. When they failed, of course, they demanded free froggy-back rides and defiantly turned invisible when he dared to claim tiredness. 

  She chuckled softly, now back in the present. He smiled back, the light in his eyes speaking of what he’d seen in hers.

~ 

  She could weather the pain of the scales’ final emergence. It was only like being stabbed with a sharp pencil. Sara had had plenty of those wounds in her time. 

  Todd, she couldn’t help noticing, was flaking, too. 

She carefully pulled at a strip of skin until she met resistance. “Does it - hurt for you?" 

  "Naw. Not any mo’.” He took over pulling the ghostlike veil from his face and neck. The skin underneath was a pale, pale green that quickly darkened to his usual sallow hue. “I mean, sure, th’ first coupla times were pretty rough, yo. Itched like fury, but it hurt like a bad sunburn.” He shrugged. “Idunno. Either I got used to it or– you okay?" 

She must have been wincing. "Five patches at once down my spine. Ooof." 

  "Ow… poor baby,” he soothed. “I used t’ find a cold shower kinda helped." 

  "How about *more* showers?" 

  "Shaddup, Tabby." 

  She didn’t. "The fuck you doing with Essel the Perv?" 

  "Hey, just because *you* can’t lock a bathroom stall–" 

  "Just because *you* always walk *in* on me, dumbass…” She lobbed a little glowing ball at her. 

  Sara reacted instinctively, batting it back where, shockingly, it exploded in the blonde’s face. 

  “*HEY*!" 

  Todd cracked up. "Whassamatta? Can dish it out but yo’ can’t take it?" 

  Tabby gave him a dangerous glare, decided that she had to be elsewhere, and stomped off in a huff. 

  Sara still had both hands over her mouth. 

  Todd prised her fingers away. 

  "I'msorry, Ididn'tmeanit…” spilled out of her mouth. “It was an instinct. Something gets thrown at you, you bat it away… better my hands than my shirt… *UNH*. Ow.” She hissed. Now she was getting cramps under her skin. SHe rubbed at the hurt on the back of her hand. 

  Freddy poked his head in, “I got dinner an’ I did some washin’ up so there’s even clean plates." 

  ”…definitely a hazmat team,“ Sara muttered. "Todd… is your room some kind of public thoroughfare?" 

  "It must be *today*,” he said. “I oughta sell tickets. Or show you th’ spare room." 

+

  It was, as he’d advertized, not much. There was never a bedframe. Just a mattress and a couple of boxes of random crap. And a sheet with little duckies on it. 

  "I know, it ain’t a lot, but at least it ain’t trash, right?" 

  Sara put her bag down. "It’ll suffice for sleeping. Not that I think much of that will be done.” She hissed and rubbed at another spot. “I think my skin’s cramping." 

  Todd couldn’t do much for that, and it hurt to watch her hurting. It also hurt to see her get that strange, blank look - almost as if she wasn’t herself - for a couple of seconds before returning to normal. Whatever she was doing when she did that, he could tell it wasn’t healthy. 

  And there’d been that weird moment when a whole world of hurt had turned up in her eyes… then vanished into the eery blank look. Todd ached to ask her what was up… but daren’t. The poor kid had enough troubles with the scales. 

  Indeed, Sara was looking ragged in more ways than one. Parts of her skin had split, revealing gemlike, tiny scales underneath, but it clung fast and was too thick to rip, so it hung off her in tatters. Her colour - where she was still pinkish - wasn’t good. She’d gone very, very pale. 

  "Maybe you should - y'know… have some dinner an’ take somethin’ to help yo sleep?” he suggested. “Yo’re already havin’ a rough time… Sleepin’ it off’s better'n bein’ awake." 

  "Better than,” corrected Sara. “I’m going to need the energy, yes. Dinner and an antihistamine. Lovely." 

  "What? No painkillers?" 

  "Asprin makes me sick,” she said. “Acetominophen kills the pain but makes me slightly whack. Ibuprofen just makes me see things, and Nurofen just plain doesn’t work. And I overreact to sedatives." 

  "Yo’ kiddin’ me." 

  "Seriously. Mom gave me a sleeping pill once?” she said. “She meant well. I needed to be rested up for the competition… Anyway, when she checked on me, I wasn’t breathing." 

  "Whoah." 

  "It was, apparently, a very scary five hours in ER.” Sara shrugged, absently holding his hand on the way back to the kitchen. “I don’t even remember the time between tuck-in and life support. It’s very weird waking up and finding out that a machine is helping you breathe." 

  Todd made a tiny little strangled noise. 

  "Don’t worry about it, dear. I’m fine *now*." 

  "Yo, what frikkin’ competition, doll?” he begged. “It shoulda been on the news." 

  "Oh, it was. I was three years old at the time. Little Miss Bayville charity beauty pageant. Ironically, we were funding a campaign against animal testing for makeup." 

  "Day-umn, yo.” He shook his head. “Where have you *been*?" 

  "Lots of boarding schools. Some national competitions back when I was still cute enough to win prizes… you know how it goes." 

  Todd appeared confused. "I do?" 

  "It is the duty of a daughter to make her mother proud. A duty I rather failed when I was six and won ‘best effort’ instead of anything near first prize. I try… but all I am is trying.” Twitch. Blankness. And then Sara was back. “Sorry, dear. You don’t need to hear about it." 

  "Somebody’s gotta,” he said.

~~

  “If I wanted to torture someone with my problems, I wouldn’t pick on you. Seems you have enough problems,” started Sara. She stopped in her tracks at the sight of a smirking Pietro leaning against the wall adjacent to the kitchen entrance. 

  “Heya, Essel. Stayin’ for dinner?” He caught sight of Essels’ scales and loose skin. “EWWW! Did ya come down here to make me sick?" 

  "Go stare in the mirror s'more. You ain’t happy enough yet,” Todd snapped and escorted Sara past into the kitchen. He glanced up at her. She was doing 'it’ again… the empty look in her eyes gave it away. 

  “Hey, Sara, you want grilled cheese with your soup?” Fred asked. All they had left were twenty-cent cans of soup, wonderbread, and Velveeta cheese. 

  “What on earth?” Sara prodded the loaf of Velveeta with one finger. “I wasn’t aware plastic cheese existed." 

  Pietro was on her in milliseconds. "If you don’t like it, don’t eat it! Who invited you for dinner anyway?" 

  As usual, Sara returned rudeness with civil manners. "I never said I didn’t like it. Just that it was odd." 

  "An’ if you must know, I invited her,” Todd piped in. 

  “And so did I,” thundered Freddy, brandishing his spatula in a threatening manner. 

  “The bread’s burning,” Pietro retorted, taking a step backwards nevertheless. Freddy turned back to the stove, grumbling. Pietro decided he would rather claim the remote before Tabby did and sped to the living room. 

  “Sorry about him, sweetheart. He’s territorial." 

  "I figured." 

  Freddy fixed both of them plates of grilled cheese and tomato soup to take upstairs. Todd carried the sandwhiches while Sara amazed Todd by carrying both bowls of soup up the stairs without making the surface so much as ripple. "Lady Favisham’s was all about daintiness and good form. No wonder I dropped out. Figuring out silverware placements and not spilling the soup were about the only things I didn’t perform miserably." 

  Sara’s eye twitched ever so slightly as she placed the bowls on the table inside of the spare room. Todd put the sandwiches down close by and shut the door. "Yo, it’s all cool,” he said gently. “That must’ve been a very boring school. At least it’s behind you." 

  "Only because I was expelled." 

  "Oh.” Todd blinked, not quite knowing what to say. Sara didn’t seem the *type* to get expelled. 

  Sara sat down and picked up a sandwich. “No big surprise. Mom always did have high expectations of me. It’s money she’ll never get back and she doesn’t hesitate to remind me whenever I ask for something. That’s when I learned to earn my own allowance." 

  "Shit, yo. That ain’t fair." 

  "Maybe not,” admitted Sara, “But it does make sense. I cost her money that she can’t get back, so I shouldn’t really ask for any more." 

  "No, no, she’s the one who forced you to do something you didn’t want." 

  "Didn’t want? If I was any *good* at it, maybe I would have enjoyed it. I flunked. I didn’t try hard enough.” Sara bit into the sandwich. She blinked. “Plastic cheese tastes good when melted. THIS is the stuff!” she exclaimed, waving the sandwhich at Todd with sudden enlightenment. 

  Utterly confused at the sudden change in subject, and unsure whether he should bring it back - the boy tilted his head to the side. 

  “Ray made it for me once over some pasta I hated and had to eat. Company was present. Mom wanted me to clean my plate. The pasta she wanted served had the ickiest sauce ever. It was the color of cheese, but tasted like apricots and mayonaisse. Ray fixed me a cheese sauce and brought some out for me. I think I found out what he melted down.” Todd was looking lost and somewhat bewildered. Oh dear. 

  “Sorry. I tend to go off like that a lot." 

  Todd smiled and gave a little shrug. "Hey, always glad to hear of a happy memory. Go off as much as you want.” _Rant, rave, babble. I don’t care, yo. If it helps you to talk, then *talk*. I’m always here._

~

  Sara went crimson. It was, as she tended to joke, her default response. “I’m afraid I might have to reorganise your lounge room and kitchen at the very least, tomorrow,” she said. “Even if I’m half-crippled, I *have* to be able to see the floor in there. And the benchtops, for that matter.” She shuddered as a mass of cramps came over her. Ugh. After all this, she should find childbirth a snap. 

  Todd kind-of cringed. “We kind of got behind everything. It was always someone else’s job an’… y'know… Ya don’t gotta." 

  Sara giggled. "You’ve yet to understand the soul of an obsessive tidier, dear. I’m - compelled, almost, to pick up a snow shovel and start bailing." 

  "Uh. Some of our stuff’s in there y'know." 

  "All the more reason to help me out,” Sara grinned around her pains. “The last time I had to hazmat a place, I taped garbage bags to the windows and just shovelled things– *unh*…" 

  "Yo, you better eat up, hon,” Todd encouraged. “Li'l nutrition… lotta sleep. Do yo’ good." 

  They weren’t just sharp, now. They *burned*. Sara could see the wisdom of sleeping through it. "Yes, dear,” she muttered. “My plans to take over your living zone can await elementary treatment." 

  Todd took her sandwich-holding hand and waved it under her nose. ”*Eat* first.“ 

  Sara took an obedient bite. "I’m sorry if I’m interfering, but I feel I have to do *something* to repay for my visit. Sooner or later, I’ll be a burden. It happens." 

  "Sweetie?” Todd begged. “Quit lettin’ yo’ Mom do the talkin’, okay? It ain’t good fo’ yo’." 

  Sara made herself eat some more. "Give me a while,” she said. “I’ve been thrown out of more places than I care to count. I believe my record was -uh- two months." 

  "I still don’t think yo’ the type to get expelled, sweetums." 

  "You *want* the litany?" 

  "Sho’. Enlighten me." 

  Sara took a breath. "I started at Lady Favisham’s at age four. I was expelled at the tender age of eight… I believe the charge was 'conducting Pagan rituals’. It involved woad and flowers. My next school was Mistress Tildworth’s, where I lasted precisely four months. I had too much fun with Latin for everyone’s own good. After that, I spent a spell at Ms Elizabeth Kranchick’s School for Young Ladies. A three month spell. Next on the list was The Reverend Jacob’s Strength Through Righteousness School for Young Ladies - my famous two-month record. The Head Girl took more than a fair shine to me. I blacked her eye and ruined her orthadonty." 

  Todd’s mouth was hanging open. 

  "Did I mention that I was wasn’t yet nine years old at the time?" 

  "Someone made a *move* on yo’?” he yawped. 

  “Yo, frog-breath,” came Tabby’s distant shout. “We don’t wanna know about Essel gettin’ lucky!" 

  "Her name’s Sara *Adrien*, yo! Not Adrian Essel!" 

  "Fuck you anyway!" 

  Todd sighed. "Sorry about her. You said sumpin’ about Ben Gay in her shorts?" 

  "Becoming more and more of a temptation as time passes, dear,” said Sara. She munched on more of her sandwich. “Do you want to hear about the rest of them?" 

  "There’s more?" 

  "Oh yes,” she chirped, feeling slightly punchdrunk. “I *said* it was a litany.” She hissed at another rash of scales. “After that was Professor Martinson’s School for unpaid white-collar labor - oops… I mean - School for Technological Learning. I lasted a little bit over the two months’ record, there. Then there was Grafingle’s Academy for special learning - my scholastic records, you know… They sort of doomed me. I lasted six months there before being shoved bodily into Filis’ Institute for Academic Correction. I broke their counsellor at the end of *that* year… Then there was Babel Towers, where I lasted two years before I nearly blew up the chem lab." 

  ”*DAY*umn…“ coughed Todd. 

  "Montague Acres, one year,” Sara began ticking them off on her fingers, in-between bites of her dinner. “Saquenaya private school, two years… and after a whole bunch of counselling - here at dear old Bayville. The two-year anniversary of my admission is coming up, so you may want to be wary of fireworks." 

  Todd was shaking his head. "Yo, that is *whack*… I mean - yo’ so *nice*. How’d you get thrown outta so many places?" 

  Twitch. "Mother asks me exactly the same thing." 

  "Sorry, sugarlips,” he said, “but I’m dyin’ o’ curiosity over here." 

  Sara shoved the last of her sandwich in her mouth, chewing as daintily as one could under the circumstances. "I think,” she announced, “that the key ingredient was boredom. My mind wanders when I’m bored, you see… and I think up these *experiments*." 

  "Like?” he prompted. 

  “What would happen if I got the school computers to all act like HAL from 2001?" 

  Todd cracked up. 

  "Or mayhap, 'Is it *true* about ordinary household chemicals?’ or 'This hallway is always *wet*, so perhaps I should draw it to more obvious attention’… That one resulted in indoor ice capades on a lovely July afternoon." 

  Todd thumped their table in his paroxysms of laughter. Then he stopped cold. "Whoa. Wait, wait, wait. *July*?" 

  "I always *said* the air conditioning in that place was something else. I just happened to prove it." 

+

  Todd winced with her, the very next time she moved to protect an area of pain around her ribs. He literally leaped over to her bag and produced the medkit. "I know this has got whatever yo’ need, babycakes. Take it, yo." 

  "Thank you dear, but I need to get changed, first. When I said they knock me out, they knock me *out*." 

  ”*Oh*.“ Todd went beet red for a change. "I’ll just - uh…” he gestured at the hall. “I’ll just -er- I’ll just guard th’ door." 

  She kissed him. Slow, sweet and gentle. "Thank you, darling. You’re the sweetest gentleman I’ve ever met." 

  Todd’s feet didn’t touch the floor until he hit Pietro and Tabby in the hallway. 

  Both had their arms folded across their chests. Though in Tabby’s case, it was done so as to accentuate her bosom. 

  "You’re the sweetest gentleman I’ve ever met,” mocked Pietro. “*Jesus*…" 

  "Hey, I thought yo’ were Jewish." 

  "Lapsed years ago,” he said. “And that’s beside the *point*, swamp-shorts." 

  "What the hell is up with you and Essel?” said Tabby. “You *have* a real woman right here, you know." 

  "Yeah, if I like soakin’ my thing in Lysol,” Todd muttered. “Her name’s *Sara*, yo." 

  "This is pretty much fucked up, right here,” said Tabby. “You and a *transie*?" 

  "She’s a *GIRL*, dumbass,” Todd was trying desperately to keep his voice down, to give Sara the illusion of privacy. “Born female, *is* female, goddamn it. Just shut up!" 

  "Yeah yeah yeah,” said Pietro. “He’s a female on the inside. What. Ever. What I don’t get is why he has such a thing for *you*.” He preened. “*I’m* obviously the one everybody desires." 

  "Wait. You *want* a transie lustin’ after yo’?” Todd wondered. “How fucked up is that?" 

  "So he *is* a transie!” Tabby crowed. 

  “I never said that!” Pietro went pink. “It’s just that I’m obviously superior and you’re obviously not." 

  "SARA IS NOT A TRANSIE, GODDAMN IT!” Todd screamed. Then he realized what he’d done and clapped his hands over his mouth. “…ohfuck…" 

  "It’s all right, dear,” said Sara, behind him. She’d opened the door to watch the fight. “I’m quite used to rampant and erroneous speculation from my…” her glare raked over Tabby as if looking right through her, “contemporaries." 

  Tabby gave her the finger. 

  "Ah yes,” Sara grinned. “Always the automatic response from the slow of mind.” Both her hands were occupied in holding an oversized shirt down at the hem. It was pink and several years out of style, and bore the face of Hello Kitty. “Todd, dearest, I’m going to need about a swallow’s worth of water. Any more and there’s going to be a bit of a mess." 

  "Washing your falsies?” sniped Pietro. “Don’t bother covering up. Nobody wants to look at *you*." 

  "I can name at least three people. How about you?” Sara challenged. 

  “Shaddup and fuck off,” said Todd. “Both of ya.” He ushered Sara back into her temporary room. “Just ignore 'em, hon. I’ll be back wit’ some water soon." 

  ”…mi mi mi mi mi mimi mi…“ echoed Pietro as Todd hopped past. 

  _That does it. I’m sliming his hair gel._ He found a clean glass and half filled it from the tap. What in hell was a 'swallow’ of water, anyway? He shook his head and gave the finger to Pie-pie and Tabby on his way back. 

  "Hey, if he’s with a transie, does that mean he’s 'dick-whipped’?" 

  "Maybe it’s 'future-pussy-whipped’?” speculated Pietro. 

  Todd fumed internally but said nothing. 

  Sara had arranged herself on the mattress, the duckie sheet covering her legs and hips. A small pill rested in one hand. “Ah. Thank you." 

Pill into mouth. One swallow. Two. She very carefully attempted to put the glass down– 

  And went out like a candle. 

  Fft. 

  Just like that, she lapsed from consciousness into an apparent coma. The glass of water spilled on the floor as she fell into the mattress. 

  "Damn,” he said. “You *weren’t* kiddin’.” He pulled the sheet up to cover most of her, then straightened her hair and kissed her forehead. “Goodnight, sweetie.” He did his best to mop up most of the spill with his over-vest. He could deal with being a little chilly for one evening. Then he had to face a decision. 

  Guard her all night, or risk having her ransacked and who *knew* what else by Pie-pie? 

  As it turned out, Freddy was in the hall, instead of Pietro and Tabby. 

“It’s okay,” said the giant boy. “You need sleep, too." 

  So she had two grotty guardian angels on her side, at least. Lance didn’t really want to care, and preferred to leave it alone and as for the other two… 

  Meh. They could go fuck 'emselves. 

  Only when in the privacy of his own room, digging Kermie out of his hiding place, did Todd realize how rotten *he* actually felt. 

  How *about* that?

~