Fanfic time: Misfits part 7
Trigger warning: This episode contains verbal abuse.
Continued from yesterday:
Todd made Sara laugh by closing his eyes and choosing at random. He got the one with the daisies. Oh well, he was in a good enough mood to feel like silly if it meant she laughed. It was nice too… not to be on guard for once.
Eileen started up like a sputtering old woman who’d been woken against her will.
“Easy, girl, be good for me.” Sara’s voice was a little tense. “We have company today.”
The sputtering relaxed into a gentler thrumming that sounded almost like a purr. “Wow,” Sara grinned. “She *likes* you.”
“Heh. Machines and I kinda get along… better than people most of the time.”
Eileen took off at a slow pace, but with a lurch that made Todd bump in close to Sara. “Meep!”
Sara looked behind her. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m just… I’m sorry. Contact like that usually gets me smacked, you know?”
“I would never,” Sara protested, in a mock offended tone. Todd grinned at her sheepishly and his helmet slipped down over his eyes. Sara burst into giggles yet again, wondering what was making her feel so giddy today.
+
“Mmm… you should try the buttered grubs.” Sara offered him a taste from her chopsticks.
“Wow… I didn’t use to be much of a worm person. But these are *good* yo. Wait ‘til I tell the others they got a bug cuisine in Bayville.”
“Think they’ll try it out someday?” Sara asked, popping a carmel cricket into her mouth. She’d skipped ahead to the desert bar to secure a share of them for both her and Todd. Those treats always went unbelievably fast.
“Well, Fred might. He needs a lot of food and likes something new once in a while. You can get him to try most anything, yo.”
“What happens… exactly… if he doesn’t get enough food?” Sara was already hypothesizing, but mutant powers were a new field of research.
Todd paused for thought, an almost guilty expression crossing his face as he stirred his chopsticks in the bamboo worms. “He can’t move. Takes a lot of muscle to carry around that weight. No food means that his muscles start shrinking and…” He trailed off squeamishly and Sara could guess the rest from there.
“Any others in such danger?”
“Pietro. Same thing’ll happen to him, but at a much faster rate. For a guy who normally takes thirty seven sugars in his coffee(1), no food for a *day* is dangerous. He gets cranky as shi - er, you know.”
“And what will happen to - hold that thought.” Sara ground her back into her chair, turning red with embarrassment at her display.
“Oh, about that,” Todd started. “If you start losing a lot of dry skin… like *strips* of it… don’t be alarmed. It’s natural. Scared the hell out of me at first, so I want you to know you’re okay.”
Sara looked at him. “I’m going to get new *skin*?”
Todd nodded.
“What’s it going to *look* like? Will it still look like me? Will I turn green?” _Mother is going to have a *fit*._
“No, no,” he soothed, “I don’t think that’ll happen. And if it does, there’s stuff you can do. You could wear an inducer like fuzz - like Kurt.” _Even if I gotta steal that thing offa him, maybe I can make a copy…_ Todd didn’t want Sara to feel like she *had* to go to Xavier if an inducer became necessary. She’d be better off though… maybe…
_Steeringawayfromthatsubjectnow._
“Or foundation. *Lots* of foundation.”
_Great, makeup._ Sara thought bleakly. _Mother will find that hysterical._
~~
Todd knew what that bandaged hand over her eye meant, now. “Lemme guess. Yo’ mom ain’t that fond of makeup.”
“She’s not fond of makeup on me. A sow in mascara is still a sow.” She bit the head off a bug with a savage snap. “I mean, it was all fun and games until I turned five, and when the prizes dried up, it was all over.”
“Um…” said Todd. He ate an unidentified vegetable so he didn’t have to comment.
“Sorry,” said Sara. “Old scars. I really shouldn’t be showing them to you.”
Todd gave her a classic, _Who? Me?_ look. “I just didn’t wanna say nuthin’. Y'know. It’s yo’ bidness'n'all.”
“Old, old news,” Sara dismissed. “Dried up and mummified. You’d never believe I used to be cute.”
“I believe yo’ *still* cute.”
“…oh, stop it,” she muttered. “I’m no prizewinner.”
“Only to the people who don’t matter,” he found himself blurting. “Yo' pretty when you smile.”
She blushed and ducked, obscuring her smile from him with her hair. "…stop it…“
He knew she was flattered. But he also sensed that she was one of those unfortunates who were so worn away by criticism that they didn't know what to do with a compliment. "Awright, awright. I’ll shuddup. But *you* gotta say 'thank you’ when I say somepin’ nice about yo’. Deal?”
“I’ll try.”
“Coo’,” he grinned. Thinking of a compliment she could take. “Yo’ very graceful, y'know. Precise.”
“I have scars that would argue with–”
“Aa-aah?”
Sara blushed. “…thank you.”
“There. Did that hurt?”
A deeper blush. A prettier smile. “…not really, I guess.”
+
Todd came home late. Lance knew because he was waiting for him.
“And just where the hell have you been?”
Todd made three seperate goes to wipe the goofy grin off his face. "Out,“ he finally admitted.
"Well, *duh*,” said Lance. “Out where? Did Dunc rough you up or something?” _Translation: Did you do something to *make* Dunc rough you up?_
“Nope.” The goofy grin, never far away, came back in full force. “I was out in *enjoyable* company, dawg.”
Suddenly, Lance had no real desire to know, but he had to ask. Ever since Mystique left them to cope on their own, he was the responsible one. Him. Lance the rebel. Responsible. “You and a *girl*?”
The grin raised to a power of ten. “Her name’s Sara… She plays Robin Hood and the harp and I think she likes me.”
“Toad, you think girls who break your cheekbones like you.”
“She bought me dinner.”
Blink. “Okay. She might like you.” He blinked again. “Now I’m trying to picture the kind of girl who’d find *you* desirable…”
“Shut it, yo. I’m'a takin’ a *bath*.”
Lance blinked a third time. “But it isn’t that time of the month[1]…”
+
“And what sort of hour do you call *this*, young lady - *AND* I use that term *loosely*, given the company you keep.”
“I was out studying,” said Sara. “With a new friend.”
“Does anyone *I* know know this so-called 'friend’ of yours? Or is it another useless little layabout like That Girl–” aka Janine, “–or that blimp of a boy who came over and ate out half the pantry.”
“Nobody you know, Mom,” said Sara, barely quelling the twitch. “Can I put my things away, please?”
“Don’t you even *think* of walking out of this room, missy! I tried everything I *could* to get you a decent education and how do you thank me? You get *expelled* from every single school of any merit! With test results so poor that you have to sit with the *bottom feeders*. It’s no wonder you’ve never met anyone of any *worth*! Just you wait until your *father* gets home!”
_Hm. November twelfth, just in time to heal all rifts before my birthday and Christmas. Still too long away._
“He’s going to put his foot down *this* time, hearing about how you carry on! Lusting after your teachers! Going out until all hours with strange boys! They’re only after one thing - and God knows, they could get it from *you* easily. One compliment and they could ruin your life! AND STOP THAT TWITCHING THIS INSTANT!”
“…I’m trying, Mom…”
“All you ever *were* was trying! From the moment you were *born*, you were trying! You never did a single thing for me! Never! I work and I slaved to get you ahead in society and what thanks do I get? Nothing!”
The twitch spread across her face, trembled down her arms, and made tears slide loose.
“Look at you! A spastic[2] wreck! Is it any wonder nobody wants to look at you? Is it any wonder that you’re a shame to my family? To my *mother*? To my sisters and brothers who *all* have better children than *you* to their name… What did I *do* to get such a *curse* for a daughter?”
Sara whimpered. Both hands were ineffectually flailing at invisible attacking phantoms. She ducked and winced and wept. She trembled and shivered.
“I could have had a *beautiful* daughter. A nice intelligent girl like Jean Grey! Jean *Grey* doesn’t twitch like she’s been hit with lightning! Jean Grey *wins* things to grace her mothers’ shelves! Jean Grey does *GOOD* in this world! What do you do? You twitch and you cry that you’re *trying*! Well, you can stop being such a trial to *ME*!”
Sara couldn’t manage anything but an incohate garble.
“Ray? *Ray*! Come here and mop this excuse for a daughter of mine *UP*!”
Their butler escorted her into the big kitchen, the one they used when they held large parties. Ray sat her on the bench and helped her escape her backpack. He made hot chocolate with a marshmallow and cream, then carefully tended, treated, and re-wrapped her wounds.
He let her cry it out.
“There, now, ma'am… The master will be home soon enough. He’ll set things straight. You’ll see.”
Sara could only nod.
[1] I couldn’t resist.
[2] Yes, I know it’s a hate-word. It works in context.
~
Todd dried himself off and slid on a pair of dark sweatpants and a sleeveless tank. Teeth chattering from his cold shower[1], the boy wrapped the towel around his shoulders and started to work on his dripping hair. He was going to get in trouble tonight if he wasn't completely dry before he went to sleep. The house was colder at night and the insulation around Todd’s window had fallen away with time.
Still rubbing at his head with the towel, Todd opened the bathroom door to bang his forehead on the chin of a very surprised speedster. "Whoa! That time of month already? Please remember to vacuum *everywhere* this time.“[2]
"Ha ha. So amusing.” Todd squeezed past him. His skin shedding wasn't due for another… Todd checked the calendar upon entering his room. Five days. Oh joy. That meant the itching would start in three.
He plopped himself in his chair, forgetting that it was an old thing that didn’t *like* to be plopped in and reminded him of this by squealing indignantly beneath him. “Ack! Okay, not doing that again…” he promised, planting his feet on the ground for support. Mollified, the chair didn’t break.
Todd flicked on his computer and winced at the loud thrum and static. "Please,“ he prayed to it, "No death screen this time?”
Frankie[3] started up the disk-scan for errors program and Todd sighed in relief. That usually meant everything was okay and that Frankie had recovered from when Todd had to turn it off manually last time.
He connected to red shi(f)t and waited for AIM to load while checking his Deviant account. Yep. No new comments, but a load of deviations from members on his watchlist and hot topics. He’d have to view and clean that out later. From his jean pocket he rescued the square of paper Sara had given him with her information on it. He added her screenname to his friends list and waited hopefully to see if she had logged in yet.
She hadn’t. Todd kept the list up and opened a paint program - Photoshop 5.5 which he’d ripped with a serial number from an online site. Randomly he began to draw with the mouse, experimenting with tools. He preferred pen and paper, but the scanners at school were ancient pieces of dung. He usually didn’t bother, unless he had something he considered worth the wait.
In no time, his AIM list dinged at him and he checked to see who'd come up. Big Blue still had the away message…
Todd grinned at Sara’s online persona and clicked on it. He typed a message and hit enter.
FrogPrince: 'Ey, what’s up sunshine?
“Meep. Yo, I gotta remember to chill with the petnames,” Todd muttered to himself. He started typing again.
FrogPrince: Sorry if that’s outta line… :/
Todd deleted that rather than hitting enter. “Maybe I’ll just wait until she actually *yells* at me b'fore I apologize.”
[1]. No heat means no hot water. *shivers* But I don’t think Todd’s the type for taking long hot showers anyway.
[2]. He tends to lose small bits of skin the first day of his shedding cycle and they get *everywhere*. By the third day, the bits are larger and easier to pick up and throw away.
[3]. Short for 'Frankenstein’. Todd’s monster PC needed a cute name.
~
Sara’s teeth were still chattering as she logged on. Ah, dedicated lines. Bliss. Maybe this year, Daddy would get her that T1 she’d been dreaming of.
Maybe.
In a few moments, she was online and typing in Todd’s deviant address.
{Boonk!}
Sara clicked on the flashing notice.
FrogPrince: 'Ey, what’s up sunshine?
Sara grinned. Sunshine. Cute.
TheTallest: My hair? ;) JK. Got ritual chew-out from Mommy dearest. Checking Ur art now…
She peeked.
The Tallest: Oh *wow*. U know, w correct BS, I could get U gallery showing. Ur textures R delish.
Sara blushed. She was always more forward online, when there was a screen between herself and the people she spoke to. The itch invaded her bubble and, muchly vexed, she tromped into her bathroom to slather vitamin E cream on the bubbling flesh of her back.
She dashed back to the PC.
TheTallest: Um. Something weird is happening to my back. Got nasty red weals, blisters & sores.
Ugh. Now *that* was romantic. Not.
~
TheTallest: My hair? JK. Got ritual chew-out from Mommy dearest. Checking Ur art now…
Todd winced. He really was going to have to teach that girl’s mother a thing or two. Maybe he could ask Pietro for advice.
The Tallest: Oh *wow*. U know, w correct BS, I could get U gallery showing. Ur textures R delish.
The boy blinked. He’d been expecting a 'That’s cool’ at best or an 'Ummm, what is it supposed to mean?’ at the very worst. Not somethin' about a freakin’ *gallery*. He wasn’t that good…
FrogPrince: U are way 2 nice. ;_; I’m an amateur. Thanks tho.
Todd gently swiveled his chair to reach for the blanket on his bed. He was getting cold. The treetops outside of his window were blowing. Great, a storm. He could hear the loose tiles on the roof rattling like dry bones.
Sara was being quiet. Todd waited patiently. Sometimes Big Blue went quiet without warning and Todd had never minded. Comfortable silences were a good thing in his book. This was kind of different, though… Todd was beginning to worry that he’d offended her or something when the window alerted him to a new message.
TheTallest: Um. Something weird is happening to my back. Got nasty red weals, blisters & sores.
Todd winced.
FrogPrince: Oh crap… did u put somethin on it?
The Tallest: Some lotion… doesn’t help a whole lot.
Big Blue’s away message disappeared indicating that he was back. Todd pounced on his name immediately.
FrogPrince: hey, blue, i gotta problem. maybe serious. can u help?
Big Blue: What seems 2 be the problem?
FrogPrince: friend of mine is also gifted. Any1 besides you?
Big Blue: All is clear. I am the only one in the room. how gifted exactly?
Big Blue was also a mutant as he’d told Todd online in what had been one hell of a rough but rewarding conversation. Knowing only he was a doctor who’s opinion on mutants was a friendly one, Todd had taken the plunge to ask for advice when 'Tro had collapsed from lack of sleep. They had thought he was dying, but Blue had assured him - given the specs of the unconscious boy’s power - that Todd’s friend was merely in torpor[1] and would wake up in a few hours.
Todd had his suspicions who Big Blue was, and he was sure Big Blue had already guessed who he was, but neither mentioned it.[2]
FrogPrince: beautiful, witty, and she can change her skin 2 match the walls.
BigBlue: my, that’s pretty gifted.
FrogPrince: i’m talking 2 much. her skin is all bubbling and blistered and stuff. was itching earlier, kinda like i do once a month.
Another window beeped at him. Todd brought it up and started typing even before he’d finished reading Sara’s message.
The Tallest: hello? did I scare u off?
FrogPrince: no, sweetums, i’m looking something up for u.
The Tallest: don’t have 2.
BigBlue: so she’s an amphibious type? like a chameleon? hmm. might be scales.
FrogPrince:… . o_O!!!
BigBlue: did i alarm u? *poke*
FrogPrince: scales, huh? so what can she do about it?
BigBlue: let them grow out like nature intended?
FrogPrince: okay… anything else? she’s in pain! ;_;
BigBlue: Calm thyself, Romeo. Lotion should do the trick, preferably calamine. Other than that, lots of water to drink. will probably be thirsty like u.
FrogPrince: thanx
FrogPrince: Yo Sara, u okay? drink lots of water and use calamine lotion. that’s what the good doc says.
The Tallest: Who?!
FrogPrince: long story, but he’s safe, i swear!
[1] Hummingbirds are known to go into something called 'torpor’ at night - a deathlike sleep to make up for a day’s fast work. I think Pietro would go through this if he didn’t have enough energy and rest, but I doubt he’d do it every night considering how much sugar he eats to give him energy. The others naturally freaked when he went down like a sack of potatoes in the middle of a sentence.
[2] Completely and shamelessly nicked from -Fein!-
~