Fanfic time: Misfits part 16

Continued from yesterday:

  Sara didn’t even bother to answer her. She was watching Todd with a blank expression. Her mind was in another realm. 

  Freddy returned with the cellular and not a moment too soon. Tabitha had grown tired of chanting “Earth to Eeeesseeellll, Essel phone home?” and was now prepared to toss a bomb to get a reaction out of *someone*. 

  The thought had never crossed her mind to pester Alvers or Pietro for information, and they weren’t about to offer themselves as distractions. Alvers was still moaning about goats eating his jeep. Freddy handed Sara the cell. He then stepped between her and Tabby to serve as a living bomb shelter. 

  “Hey, Freddy! What’s the big idea?" 

  "She’s gotta make a call. Shhhh!" 

  "Whatever.” Tabby pouted, but she was all ears. 

  [Beepboopboopbeepbeepboopbeep] The call went through and was picked up after the first ring. 

  “Bernie’s Bargain Basement Delivery Service, how can I help you?" 

  "Hi, this is Sara Adrien. I’m putting in an order. I need the Express delivery." 

  "Allright ma'am, regular address?" 

  "No, I’m at the Brotherhood Boarding House, 6426 Pikers Street.” Damn, at least she *thought* that was accurate. “How fast can you get here?" 

  "Within twenty minutes or free of charge. What do you need?" 

  "I need Sue Bee Honey, Lysol Disenfectant spray - better make that three bottles…” Sara rattled off several more items including foodstuffs that Freddy wasn’t swift enough to protest, then checked Todd’s skin. “And calamine lotion. *Definitely*." 

  "Will that be that all?" 

  "Yes." 

  "Delivery will be there soon. Have a nice day." 

  "Thanks." 

  Sara hung up and started to stand up, attempting successfully to juggle Todd, the shovel and the cell phone all at once. Fred helped her out by prying her fingers off the shovel. It was a far easier task than relieving her of Todd. 

  "You can set yourself down on the couch while we wait." 

  "No, Freddy. I have to get into something more presentable within fifteen minutes. They *say* twenty, but if Steve’s behind the wheel and coming for me *here*, he’s going to be exceeding highway speed limits. He worries too much." 

  "Uh, who’s Steve?" 

  "He works there as a bagger and delivery boy. If it’s him, you’ll like him. He’s a dear." 

  "So you’re really going to pay for all that stuff?” Tabby wanted to know. 

  “Yes, is it such a surprising concept?” Sara replied, eyelashes fluttering. 

  “Hey, fuck you!" 

  "No thanks for the offer.” Sara shifted Todd in her arms and began walking up the stairs. 

  “Wait a second, you haven’t even told me what’s going on!” Sara kept walking. Tabby whirled on Lance who was just now recovering back to coherency. “What’s going on, Lance?" 

  "Uhhhh…" 

  Fred sighed and helped Lance up. "Let’s get some ice for ya.” He walked Alvers to the kitchen. 

  Pietro broke out of his whimpering state as soon as Sara reached the top of the staircase and disappeared around the corner. Tabby stared down at him expectantly. 

  “Weeelllll?” she drawled, rolling two glowing time bombs around in her fingertips. 

+

  Sara arranged Todd on the mattress as comfortably as possible, then dabbed at his face with water. 

  “Nnnhhhnnn…" 

  "There we go. Come back to me.” She planted a little kiss on his lips, and nestled her face into his shoulder. Two shuddering breaths later and she was up and donning loose sweatpants and a long sweater to hide the flaps of skin. She’d be hot and scratchy for a bit, but it was a necessary evil. There was a good enough chance the delivery person was not going to be Steve. 

  She looked at the clock. Five minutes had passed. She dabbed at Todd’s face some more and was rewarded with an eyelid flutter. Then his head moved to the side as he fought his way back to consciousness. 

  “Mother o’ fuck,” he squeaked, “Who went an’ dropped th’ house on me?" 

Sara felt both relieved and giddy. She laughed and burst into tears all at once, gathering him up for a bone-creaking hug.

~

  "Don’t let her *near* me, she’s a freakin’ *maniac*!” Pietro shrieked. “She’s a goddamn valkyrie dyke nudist frigid exhibitionist *freakshow*!" 

  Tabby was so distracted that one of her little boom-bombs went off in her hand. "GODFUCKINGDAMNIT!” She flapped the others into random places, where they promptly went off and scattered bits of detritous all over her. “I just want some fucking *ANSWERS*! Who the *FUCK* are you talking about, Pie?" 

  "Adrians[1],” Pietro panted. “She’s a fucking *psycho*! She just played golf with Lance’s frikkin’ *head*." 

  "It’s true,” said Fred. “I guess she musta thought he’d tried to beat Todd up or something. It *did* look that way." 

  "Waitaminute, waitaminute. Are we talking about *Essel*?” She boggled. “Weedy guy, ‘bout yae high,” she gestured, “busts in on my quickies on a regular basis? Carries feminine things in his bag[2]? Essel the *transie*?" 

  "Oh, she’s not a transie,” said Pietro, shaking his head. “Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. No way in heaven or hell. She’s *definitely* a born-in-the-body *girl*." 

  "The fuck?” said Tabby. 

  “Saw it all this morning,” Pietro whispered. 

  “I’ll have the apricot pie, Ma,” Lance burbled on the couch. “I like pie." 

  Freddy was concerned enough to just hand him the bottles of painkillers. 

  Pietro siezed her attention by way of her messed shirtfront. "You can’t tuck *and* stand legs akimbo when you’re naked,” he confided into her ear. “She’s definitely a she." 

  Tabby could see it in her mind’s eye, now. Essel - or was it Adrians? - was the early-morning singer. The sight of hi– *her* drove Pietro into the shocked fits up and down the hall. Then, somehow, he let it slip in front of Todd, who declared war. 

  Todd, never the strong fighter, fell in the fracas and, just as Lance was trying to find out if he was okay, Adrians decided *Lance* was the aggressor and went off the deep end. 

  That was, of course, assuming that Adrians wasn’t off the deep end *already*. 

  "Saw it all…” Pietro was mumbling. “Oh. My. Fucking. God… Tabby… I *touched* a girls - *girlie* things! They were Maxi pads! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEUUWW!" 

  Tabby decided to wait for her retroactive revenge by proxy. The guy was suffering enough already. For now, at least. 

  Then the crimson tides of mortification welled up in her as she realized - she’d been seen in action by another female. *Ick*. Did that make her a secret lesbian? Showing off to another woman? 

  Part of her mind started running around in circles and going, _OmiGod, OmiGod, OmiGod, OmiGod, OmiGod, OmiGod, OmiGod…_ 

+

  Meanwhile, Sara made Todd comfortable on her vacated mattress. He was in no state to get up. Not yet. 

  But she couldn’t worry about that now. She had an incoming delivery to sign for and she had to appear human. 

  Her sweats and jumper covered most of it. The forgotten work gloves sufficed to hide her hands… but what to do about her face? 

  Sara dug in her bag, looking for solutions and finding one in the rest of her hazmat kit. Face mask. Safety goggles. Head scarf. 

  She’d be covered from head to toe. 

  All she’d need was a decent glop of foundation around the eyes. 

  Yes. 

  Sara put away her shakes so she could apply the makeup, and cover up reliably. She even triple-checked her concealment in the handiest mirror before heading back down and resuming her refuse-eviction as if nothing had happened. 

  Pietro dissolved into shrieking hysterics when she came near him and zipped into the furthest corner he could find. 

  {Scrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeet! HONKHONK!} 

  That *had* to be Steve. Nobody else could pull up along half the length of the street. 

  An anaemic rattle that could have been a doorbell, followed by agitated knocking. 

  "Oh, *Stephen*, stop being such a wet hen,” Sara chided as she opened the door. 

  “Whoah,” said Steve. “This place *seriously* needs a visit from the cleanup fairy,” he judged. “Too bad I have to work today." 

  "They’ll have to settle for the cleanup androgene,” said Sara, scratching her name in the allotted place on Steve’s clipboard. “One box or three?" 

  "Four. I decided to add some basic vitamins and herbal uppers, given your order on the bulk foodstuffs. Looks like I should have included a pound of plaster and some of the spring paints. Maybe some gauzy curtains…" 

+

  Pietro stared as the delivery man prattled. This guy was solidly classified in Pietro’s brain under the word "Rival”. He possessed all the best features of the African and Asian races, finely-toned muscle, astounding taste in clothing and the sort of Fabio-esque locks that had the girls drooling. 

  What the hell was Adrians doing talking to *HIM* and kissing *TODD*? 

  Bound by the chains of morbid curiosity, he followed the strange duo out to the truck, where he was *noticed*. 

  “Pie-pie!” Cooed Steve. “I haven’t seen you since I had to let you down. Why didn’t you *call*? You’re not still put out about the age difference thing are you?" 

  It was at that precise moment that Pietro noticed that Steve was wearing pumps. 

  A little bit of mental arithmatic added a cocktail dress and a lot of alcohol one fine May evening. 

  This time, he was certain, Xavier himself would have heard Pietro’s mental scream. 

  "Okay,” he announced. “This is just *WAY* too fucked up for me. I’m going to school.” He ducked out of sight and lay on the speed. 

+

  “But you’re still in your–” Sara sighed. “–jammies." 

  "Aw, don’t fret,” said Steve. “He’s bound to find out soon enough.”

  “Knowing him, he’ll pull it off as a fashion trend,” said Sara, hefting a box. “Come on, ducks. I’ll show you where the clean spot is." 

  "Sounds like a fortnight hazmat to *me*,” Steve tisked. He had a box under each arm. “I *must* say, you’re an excellent workout, darling." 

  "I do my little bit,” said Sara. “Stacking those shelves has to work, too, you know." 

  Lance, still nursing the egg on his temple, moaned and tried to sit up. ”…the fuck…?“ he warbled. 

  "What happened to *him*?” boggled Steve. “I mean, aside from the horrendous mullet." 

  "He messed with the wrong woman’s man,” said Sara. 

  “Hey,” said Tabby, buffing her nails against the staircase. “What did you *mean*, 'slow of mind’?" 

  Sara just grinned, though no-one could see it under her mask. 

 [1] Also a common misconception of Sara’s last name. 

 [2] Of *course* she heard from Pietro.

~

  Lance was starting to come around. Freddy could tell things were going to become geologically unstable when he recovered. His face had gone from vacant to vacantly pissed off. Lance was mad, but at the moment, not quite sure he knew who to be mad *at*. Either way he was dangerous. 

  Freddy decided to head him off. "Hey, Lance? You feelin’ any better?" 

  "Rrrgh… tell me again who took the sledgehammer to my skull. Then hold them still while I rip them in *half*." 

  Fred blanched. "Even if they thought you was attackin’ their friend when it was really Pietro’s fault?" 

  Lance gritted his teeth and readjusted the icepack on his forehead. "I’ll kick his ass too then." 

  "C'mon, Lance, don’t blame Sara. She was jus’ –" 

  "Yah, I *know*, okay? Doesn’t mean I ain’t pissed. Make the headache go away and I’ll *think* about letting this slide.” Lance winced at the volume of his own voice. “Ugh." 

  "Here,” Sara tossed Freddy an economy sized bottle of Advil. Then she glared at Lance. “You ever touch Todd or any student at school for money, personal kicks, or otherwise again, you’ll be needing a truckload." 

  "Whatever,” Lance moaned pitifully and held his hand out to Fred for Advil. 

  Sara led Steve to the kitchen with the last of the boxes. 

  “Wow. Never thought I’d see food growing out of the wallpaper." 

  "The members of this household definitely have MAIDS. In the most advanced stages.”(1) 

  “MAIDS?" 

  "Male Acquired Incapability Disorder Syndrome. Read about it on someone’s rant page." 

  "Ah. No female around to pick up after them.” Steve dove into one of the boxes and started putting them in the refridgerator. Opening the fridge may have been a mistake. Steve stared, one hand of mayonnaise in his hand. “I have never seen so many hues of mold in all my life." 

  "I didn’t order any perishables, so they all can sit safely in the cupboards for now,” Sara said, rummaging around in search of something. “Aha!” She produced the honey and slipped it into the pocket of her sweatpants. “I need to go upstairs and see a patient.” She handed Steve the cash due plus a nice tip. 

  Tabby, who’d come up to watch in the doorway, stared. She was ignored by both. 

  Steve was trying to hand back the tip. “You might need this for something later." 

  Sara waved his hand away. "No, you’ve been a big help. And your mom always needs stuff for the cats." 

  "I don’t like leaving you with mullet-head, especially after his threats." 

  "Fred and Todd are on my side, and Pietro would sooner shave his head and dip it in lye than *touch* me. I’m relatively safe. Alvers isn’t a threat to worry about. Go on now, shoo. I’m *fine*." 

  Steve left only after making sure she had his cell phone number and having extracted a promise that she’d call at the slightest wrong look. She waved from the porch and walked inside to find Lance looking decidedly more aware of his surroundings. "Hey,” he started. “I wasn’t going to hurt Todd. He passed out because he pushed himself too hard. It was Pietro’s fault." 

  "Relax,” Sara said dryly, heading up the stairs. “I no longer *have* the shovel. You’re safe until next time." 

  ”…God *dammit*.“ If it was one thing Lance hated, it was being held responsible for something he actually *didn’t* do. 

 (1) MAIDS is from Internutter’s rant page.  Had to, it was too tempting. You can not find it here: http://www.internutter.org/index.php?area=random because the site is down. Sorry. Try google archive.

~