|Dead Bodies Don't Move
Author: all you need is oxygen PM
Dead bodies don't move. They don't have white teeth either, nor do they smile like the Cheshire Cat. Most of all, dead bodies certainly don't become your best friends. FF; not really about dead bodiesRated: Fiction T - English - Humor - Words: 1,005 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 1 - Published: 08-11-08 - id: 2557539
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Dead Bodies Don't Move
Scene One: Gay as a Goose
I think this'll be a sort of series of meaningless drabbles, about Ren and Adrien's friendship. For those of you who don't know, Ren is from This is Our Time, and Adrien lives in a little one-shot called Walking Off That Stage Tonight. I don't know how long it'll be, or if it'll always be funny, or if I'll ever finish it, or if I'll ever write another chapter. It depends on if I'm feeling particularly English.
I think Ren's eyes were blue. Correct me if I'm wrong. They could be grey, or green. My memory eloped with a Scottish boy called Callum. Something like that.
Dedicated to Sammy, AKA Kir Sirin. This is what I imagine would transpire if we ever met (if we ever roomed together). And you were British, and strangely androgynous. The witty remarks, I mean. Not the other parts. Like I would ever help you with your luggage, ha.
Anyway. Happy belated.
The kid with the unbecoming obsession with all things English.
The door opened with an uncomfortably loud bang and hit the wall; people out in the hall stared. The body stirred, and then pulled itself into a sitting position, stretching with grace like that of a cat.
"Dead bodies don't move." A girl stood at the door, a mock-horrified (and amused) look on her face. She had dark, close-cropped hair that looked like a hurricane had been through; her eyes were every bit as dark as her hair, and were catching, even if they were a little too close. Despite the heat, she was in dark jeans and a striped shirt with long sleeves that looked like they retained heat pretty well – the sweat on her exposed neck was proof of that. (Speaking of her neck, there was a black dragon permanently inked on it; it seemed to writhe every time she moved her head).
"Right." The alleged dead body stood up with a flourish, and grinned widely, revealing pearly whites almost as shiny as its stunning blue eyes.
"They don't have white teeth, either. They have decayed teeth, or something like that."
"Right." The dead body just grinned wider.
"And they shouldn't look like the bloody Cheshire cat all the time. Honestly."
"Right." The dead body ruffled its (similarly short) blonde hair, and then opened its mouth. "That's because I'm not a dead body. This," it – she – pointed to herself, "is Ren Nicholson. She would like to inform you that she normally doesn't sleep on the floor, she actually does have a bed that she sleeps in, and she's pleased to meet you. And she doesn't normally speak in third person," Ren added as an afterthought.
The other girl eyed her for a second. "And you're sure you're not a dead body, waiting to ambush me and turn me into an un-dead?" Her smile belayed her serious voice. "And what were you doing sleeping on the floor anyway? Jet lag or something?"
"Haha, very funny." Ren chuckled a little, then walked over in three quick strides. "Yes, jet lag of a sort. I've been in America, see. It was ace, but I just hate the blasted time difference. I got here about three hours before you, at about 11 AM – lunch here is wonderful, just in case you were wondering. Dorm food really suits me. Here, let me help." It was a statement, not an offer. "Don't be so courteous; you're like a damn action man – release the damn luggage!" With a wrench, she pulled a particularly large luggage out of the girl's hands. "There we go. Now, assuming you are my roommate…"
"Adrien. Just Adrien."
"Okay, Adrien. Now, Adrien, assuming you are my new roommate at this stupid academy, and haven't stumbled into my – our? - room by accident, this is your bed. It's dead-body free, I promise." Ren smiled, and pointed to a twin bed. She set the luggage down, then proceeded to return to her own bed, which was covered in abstract, colorful bedding.
"Oh God," Adrien stifled a laugh, "mine looks naked."
Ren snorted. "You're an airhead. It does not."
"Yes it does! I've never seen a bed without sheets and pillows, okay?" Adrien stuck her tongue out, a very unbecoming thing. "I grew up rich and spoiled in a nice penthouse," she explained. "My parents loved it; the open space, I mean. That's hard to find in Britain."
Ren nodded. "It's damn near impossible. They're everywhere in America, though. Penthouses, I mean."
"I'm gay," Ren said over a meal of instant noodles in their dorm room. Adrien had just finished getting settled; posters and pictures now adorned the unsightly plain walls, and her bed was no longer 'naked', with clean, silver silk bedding.
"My mom's AC/DC," Adrien offered, shrugging. She didn't seem affected. "Personally, I think that's bollocks; she's probably just gay but doesn't want to admit it. Plus, that way, she gets to justify her strange obsession with Pierce Brosnan. Don't know why – he's a right old bum."
Ren laughed. "Oh come on, even I find him attractive. What are you, then? Asexual?" She laughed again, almost spilling her noodles.
"Yes," Adrien nodded, solemn. "Just playing," she smiled, "I'm gay as a goose."
"They can be pretty straight, you know," Ren quipped, "I once saw one that was so straight, it made homophobic ducks look gay."
"Touché indeed, mate."
Bloody: expressing annoyance.
Ace: good, excellent, wonderful.
Blasted: see 'bloody'.
Action man: a man who participates in very manly (macho) activities. Like Arnold Schwarzenegger.
Airhead: someone dumb, daft, stupid.
AC/DC: bisexual. (A/N: I personally like this one best, haha.)
Gay as a goose: very evidently gay.