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perpetual_motionTitle: Die Again, Bitch
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Dead Like Me
Pairing: George/Rube
Spoilers: Tiny one for “A Cook”.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Fannish cliché #126 [new person in town], makes George realize her feelings for Rube.
Dis: Belongs to Showtime. Who I hate, because they’re calling cancellation just as I’m getting into the show. Wankers.
Author’s Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
michellek, who pimped about the show enough for me to risk buying the first season without knowing shit. I owe you extra, extra, extra crispy bacon [or its vegetarian equivalent, if that’s your slant.]. I'm not sure how I feel about the ending, but it's the best I've come up with. The rest of the fic I like.
Die Again, Bitch
By Perpetual Motion
Her name is Emma. She’s a redhead and perky, and I really, really, really hate her. She’s on loan from the plague guys because we’re going to get slammed with a long string of bad shit sometime this week. Rube won’t say when, exactly, because I think he gets off on the cloak and dagger shit, but he’s at least told us to stock up on sleep and coffee. When he said it, Emma giggled and nudged him with her shoulder.
Have I mentioned I really, really, really hate her?
It’s not that she’s a bad person or anything like that. Her perkiness isn’t an act like Daisy’s, and it’s not so perky that I want to sacrifice a kitten just to even out the effects. It’s just that all her perkiness seems to be aimed at Rube, and that bugs me. I don’t know why. Every time she smiles at Rube or gets him into a conversation where he doesn’t roll his eyes or impart some little pearl of wisdom, I get a terrible urge to throw my coffee in her face.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“I don’t know, Peanut, but I’ll take a guess if you want.”
It takes me a second to realize that I apparently said that last question out loud and to Rube. Shit. “No.”
“You sure? I’ve got a few ideas.” He’s got that look on his face like he just can’t wait to rib me. I haven’t seen that on his face since Emma and her perkiness started requiring all his attention. Part of me wants to let him take a few cheap shots. Another part of me wants to borrow a gun and take a few cheap shots at Emma.
“Okay. Fine. What’s wrong with me?” I lean back in the booth and cross my arms. I can tell by the look on his face that he’s ready to have some fun.
“I’ll go down the list in no particular order, just to make it interesting. You hate your job. Or jobs, plural. You hate me for making you do one of your jobs. You’re lonely. You live with a very overdramatic roommate, and you hate Emma for a reason I can’t guess, but I’m betting has to do with her attitude. Or yours.”
I feel my eyebrows raise before I can stop them. I always try to remind myself not to act surprised in front of Rube, but I can’t help it sometimes. I steal some of his bacon to show him that I’m not so impressed. “Why would I have a problem with Emma?”
“You tell me, Peanut. You’re the one with the problem.”
“Why did you give her a nickname?” I’m not sure why that question pops up, but I have been wondering. He doesn’t have nicknames for anyone but me. He calls Daisy ‘Princess’ sometimes, but it’s only when he’s pissed off. He calls me ‘Peanut’ most of the time. And he calls Emma ‘Little Bit’ just enough to bug me. And, no, I still don’t know why it bugs me.
“Some people work better with nicknames.” He shrugs like it all makes sense and butters a piece of toast. “She’s only here for a little bit, so I call her what she is.”
“You call me ‘Peanut’.”
“You are a peanut, Peanut.” He’s got the teasing look in his eyes.
“I am not a peanut.” I lean across the table before I realize I’m doing it. “Peanuts are salty and have really weird shells.”
“Like I said, you’re a peanut.”
“I do not have a weird shell!”
Rube smiles at me and shakes his head. “Weird isn’t bad. Weird is weird. I like weird.” He smiles again, but it’s different than his usual smiles. I’ve seen six of his smiles. I’ve seen tolerant, disappointed, tired, excited, happy, and ‘if-you-keep-this-shit-up-I’m-going-to-fuck-you-up’. This smile he’s got going isn’t one I’ve seen. It makes me feel like he’s only looking at me. I can feel myself start to blush.
“So, what’s Emma?”
“Someone you don’t have to worry about. She’ll be gone at the end of the week.” He leans across the table and presses his fingers against the side of my mouth. Before I can respond, he’s pulled away. “Bit of bacon,” he says as an explanation. I can’t explain the feeling in my stomach when he licks the bacon off his fingers. He makes a face and slides the rest of his bacon to me. “It’s not as crispy as I wanted it. I wish the new guy would get it right.”
I don’t know what to do with the weird feelings in my stomach, so I shut up for a few seconds and just watch him eat. I think about our conversation. “Do you like her more than me?”
“Who?”
I roll my eyes. “Kiffany. Who the fuck do you think? Emma.”
“I like them both. Kiffany’s a nice woman. Never misses my cup when she pours my coffee. Emma’s good at her job, and she’s friendly. She gets along with people.”
“I don’t.”
“I didn’t say it was a shortcoming.” He’s smiling that smile I don’t recognize again. “You’re fine the way you are, Peanut. Salt and all.”
Suddenly, I know that smile. Or, at least, I know a version of it. Way before I grew up and became the closed-off bitch I am today, my dad used to smile like that at my mom. Then, he’d kiss her on top of the head and leave for work. I stare at Rube as he mops up the rest of his eggs with his toast and takes a bite. I can’t quite wrap my head around the idea of Rube liking me, let alone liking me like I think he likes me. Fuck. “I’ll be right back.”
I slide out of the booth and head for the bathroom. I stare at myself in the mirror for a few minutes and wonder when Rube went from being Rube to being *Rube*. I’m still not sure when I leave the bathroom. All I know is that I can’t spend all night in there. I almost trip over myself when I step out of the bathroom and see Emma sitting in my spot, eating my bacon, and talking to my-
Whoa. Stopping there before I become one of those bullshit romance novel dipshits who put possessive terms on men they’ve just realized they have the hots for. I stand by the bathroom door and let my mind wrap around the basic idea of my finding Rube hot before I start walking again. When I get to the table, Emma barely looks at me, but Rube’s watching me with his happy smile.
“You all right?”
I slide into the booth next to him and steal my bacon back from Emma. “Yeah.” When he stops looking at me, I let my arm rest on top of his on the back of the booth. Emma looks pissed, but Rube smiles and winks before taking a piece of bacon off my plate. He bites into it, makes a face, and holds it out to me.
“How can you eat it like this?”
I take a bite from the bacon without taking it from his hand. “I like it like this.”
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Dead Like Me
Pairing: George/Rube
Spoilers: Tiny one for “A Cook”.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Fannish cliché #126 [new person in town], makes George realize her feelings for Rube.
Dis: Belongs to Showtime. Who I hate, because they’re calling cancellation just as I’m getting into the show. Wankers.
Author’s Notes: For
michellek, who pimped about the show enough for me to risk buying the first season without knowing shit. I owe you extra, extra, extra crispy bacon [or its vegetarian equivalent, if that’s your slant.]. I'm not sure how I feel about the ending, but it's the best I've come up with. The rest of the fic I like.Die Again, Bitch
By Perpetual Motion
Her name is Emma. She’s a redhead and perky, and I really, really, really hate her. She’s on loan from the plague guys because we’re going to get slammed with a long string of bad shit sometime this week. Rube won’t say when, exactly, because I think he gets off on the cloak and dagger shit, but he’s at least told us to stock up on sleep and coffee. When he said it, Emma giggled and nudged him with her shoulder.
Have I mentioned I really, really, really hate her?
It’s not that she’s a bad person or anything like that. Her perkiness isn’t an act like Daisy’s, and it’s not so perky that I want to sacrifice a kitten just to even out the effects. It’s just that all her perkiness seems to be aimed at Rube, and that bugs me. I don’t know why. Every time she smiles at Rube or gets him into a conversation where he doesn’t roll his eyes or impart some little pearl of wisdom, I get a terrible urge to throw my coffee in her face.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“I don’t know, Peanut, but I’ll take a guess if you want.”
It takes me a second to realize that I apparently said that last question out loud and to Rube. Shit. “No.”
“You sure? I’ve got a few ideas.” He’s got that look on his face like he just can’t wait to rib me. I haven’t seen that on his face since Emma and her perkiness started requiring all his attention. Part of me wants to let him take a few cheap shots. Another part of me wants to borrow a gun and take a few cheap shots at Emma.
“Okay. Fine. What’s wrong with me?” I lean back in the booth and cross my arms. I can tell by the look on his face that he’s ready to have some fun.
“I’ll go down the list in no particular order, just to make it interesting. You hate your job. Or jobs, plural. You hate me for making you do one of your jobs. You’re lonely. You live with a very overdramatic roommate, and you hate Emma for a reason I can’t guess, but I’m betting has to do with her attitude. Or yours.”
I feel my eyebrows raise before I can stop them. I always try to remind myself not to act surprised in front of Rube, but I can’t help it sometimes. I steal some of his bacon to show him that I’m not so impressed. “Why would I have a problem with Emma?”
“You tell me, Peanut. You’re the one with the problem.”
“Why did you give her a nickname?” I’m not sure why that question pops up, but I have been wondering. He doesn’t have nicknames for anyone but me. He calls Daisy ‘Princess’ sometimes, but it’s only when he’s pissed off. He calls me ‘Peanut’ most of the time. And he calls Emma ‘Little Bit’ just enough to bug me. And, no, I still don’t know why it bugs me.
“Some people work better with nicknames.” He shrugs like it all makes sense and butters a piece of toast. “She’s only here for a little bit, so I call her what she is.”
“You call me ‘Peanut’.”
“You are a peanut, Peanut.” He’s got the teasing look in his eyes.
“I am not a peanut.” I lean across the table before I realize I’m doing it. “Peanuts are salty and have really weird shells.”
“Like I said, you’re a peanut.”
“I do not have a weird shell!”
Rube smiles at me and shakes his head. “Weird isn’t bad. Weird is weird. I like weird.” He smiles again, but it’s different than his usual smiles. I’ve seen six of his smiles. I’ve seen tolerant, disappointed, tired, excited, happy, and ‘if-you-keep-this-shit-up-I’m-going-to-fuck-you-up’. This smile he’s got going isn’t one I’ve seen. It makes me feel like he’s only looking at me. I can feel myself start to blush.
“So, what’s Emma?”
“Someone you don’t have to worry about. She’ll be gone at the end of the week.” He leans across the table and presses his fingers against the side of my mouth. Before I can respond, he’s pulled away. “Bit of bacon,” he says as an explanation. I can’t explain the feeling in my stomach when he licks the bacon off his fingers. He makes a face and slides the rest of his bacon to me. “It’s not as crispy as I wanted it. I wish the new guy would get it right.”
I don’t know what to do with the weird feelings in my stomach, so I shut up for a few seconds and just watch him eat. I think about our conversation. “Do you like her more than me?”
“Who?”
I roll my eyes. “Kiffany. Who the fuck do you think? Emma.”
“I like them both. Kiffany’s a nice woman. Never misses my cup when she pours my coffee. Emma’s good at her job, and she’s friendly. She gets along with people.”
“I don’t.”
“I didn’t say it was a shortcoming.” He’s smiling that smile I don’t recognize again. “You’re fine the way you are, Peanut. Salt and all.”
Suddenly, I know that smile. Or, at least, I know a version of it. Way before I grew up and became the closed-off bitch I am today, my dad used to smile like that at my mom. Then, he’d kiss her on top of the head and leave for work. I stare at Rube as he mops up the rest of his eggs with his toast and takes a bite. I can’t quite wrap my head around the idea of Rube liking me, let alone liking me like I think he likes me. Fuck. “I’ll be right back.”
I slide out of the booth and head for the bathroom. I stare at myself in the mirror for a few minutes and wonder when Rube went from being Rube to being *Rube*. I’m still not sure when I leave the bathroom. All I know is that I can’t spend all night in there. I almost trip over myself when I step out of the bathroom and see Emma sitting in my spot, eating my bacon, and talking to my-
Whoa. Stopping there before I become one of those bullshit romance novel dipshits who put possessive terms on men they’ve just realized they have the hots for. I stand by the bathroom door and let my mind wrap around the basic idea of my finding Rube hot before I start walking again. When I get to the table, Emma barely looks at me, but Rube’s watching me with his happy smile.
“You all right?”
I slide into the booth next to him and steal my bacon back from Emma. “Yeah.” When he stops looking at me, I let my arm rest on top of his on the back of the booth. Emma looks pissed, but Rube smiles and winks before taking a piece of bacon off my plate. He bites into it, makes a face, and holds it out to me.
“How can you eat it like this?”
I take a bite from the bacon without taking it from his hand. “I like it like this.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2004-12-30 03:13 am (UTC)And Showtime? Does suck.
no subject
on 2005-04-26 08:43 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2005-06-04 04:00 pm (UTC)God, I wish I could write this fandom.
Kisses...
no subject
on 2008-02-05 12:31 am (UTC)