de.riv.a.tive (3/10)
Aug. 2nd, 2008 09:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
meretriculatitle: de.riv.a.tive (3/10)
fandom: x-men (all three movies) crossed over with pushing daisies
pairing: logan/marie, ned/chuck
rating: g
word count: 1600
disclaimer: I own nothing, not even my soul (pawned it for tuition payments), so sue me not, for nothing shalt thou receive.
nota bene: I can't be the only person to think this would be an awesome universe to play in, can I?
Logan had cased the joint before he even sat down. Only one exit, which he had insisted on facing; one door to the kitchen behind the counter, which he could also keep an eye on from where he was sitting. The scattering of customers, despite the early hour, lent the place an air of normality, as did the obnoxiously bubbly blond waitress. It was not Logan's usual type of hangout. "Olive Snooks" (whatever the hell kind of name that was) wouldn't even let him smoke or bring him a beer, and she hadn't looked in the least intimidated when he snarled at her.
However, he reflected with well-concealed resignation, it was the sort of place an ordinary teenager might like, and Marie was already plowing through her third slice of pie, looking happier than she had in months. Ever since her powers had started coming back, she'd retreated more and more behind layers of clothing and sullen silence, and she hadn't left the mansion at all. So Logan had taken the mission, humiliating as it was, to track down a potential mutant pie-maker, solely in order to get her out of the house. He thought it was a pretty damn cunning plan.
"This is the best pie ever," she enthused. "Want a bite?"
"No," Logan grumbled. "I thought the last pie was the best pie ever."
"They're all the best pie ever," Marie said, eyes shining. "Open your mouth."
"I said no," Logan started, only to be interrupted by a forkful of cherry pie. The ensuing noises he made could have been interpreted as indignation, he thought, soothing his dignity. Even if they had been pure bliss. Marie was right; it was the best pie ever.
"Can I get you anything else?" Olive Snooks, the blond harpy of a waitress, descended upon them with the creepy smile of a used car salesman who knows that all his advertising statements are actually true and, moreover, his products are addictive. "More coffee? More pie?"
"We'd like to speak with the pie-maker," Logan said, pre-empting the request he just knew Marie was about to make. He didn't mind spoiling her a little - Christ knew nobody else was doing it - but he was pretty sure that four slices of pie for breakfast would earn him words from Ororo when they got home.
"Well, I'm afraid he's a bit busy in the kitchen at the moment," Olive apologized, not sounding the least bit sorry. "But I can get you whatever pie you'd like without bothering him."
"It's about a special pie," Marie said, smiling sweetly and pouring on the Southern drawl like syrup. Logan kicked her under the table, but she ignored him. "For our wedding."
"Oh, isn't that just darling!" Olive cooed to Marie, shooting Logan a glare that shouted, Child molester. "You stay right there, and I'll see if he can spare a moment to come out and talk with you." She flounced off.
"Wedding?" Logan hissed to Marie as soon as she was out of ear-shot. "Have you lost your mind?"
"I didn't invent our cover," she said smugly. "Didn't you read our mission assignment? And anyway, it worked."
Logan scowled, but there wasn't much of an argument to be made when in fact it had worked, so he drank his coffee in grumpy silence.
The pie-maker, when he stumbled out of the kitchen with Olive on his heels like a particularly yappy little dog, didn't look like anybody's idea of a mutant necromancer. He was tall and awkward and wholesomely good-looking, in a nervous sort of way. Logan disliked him on principle. He could hear Marie sighing a little across the table.
"Um, hi, I'm Ned, this is my pie-shop, and Olive said you wanted a pie, in which case you came to the right place, I mean, obviously, it's called the Pie Hole and also you've been eating pie, I did think the cherry turned out pretty well today, though I recommend the blackberry especially, Chuck said it was really good, and Olive did too, but she says that about all my pies so I don't know if that counts for much. Um. Hi?"
"Hi, I'm Marie," Marie said, smiling. She had such a terrible and misplaced soft spot for the socially maladjusted. "This is Logan. We were hoping we could talk to you about making a pie for our wedding."
"You're getting married? That's wonderful! Congratulations!" They all glanced back at the kitchen door, where a brunette in a brightly colored dress was standing. There was a white hand-print at the curve of her waist - flour. "I'll just bring you some more pie," she added, beaming. Logan almost explained that Marie had already had three slices that morning and he didn't care for sweets, but his "bride" kicked him very hard in the shin and glared, and by the time he was done promising retribution using nothing but the subtle movement of his eyebrows, the dark-haired woman was placing two plates of pie on the table. Also, well. It was pretty much the best pie ever.
While Marie was digging into her slice of peach pie, Logan gave the newcomer a once-over. She was standing just barely out of reach of Ned the pie-maker, both of them awkwardly gravitating towards each other and away again. Logan didn't really need his nose to tell him that they were in love, though it did tell him that (as well as the fact that the girl raised bees and liked strawberry-scented shower gel). The Professor had nearly died of scientific curiosity when Logan mentioned that he could smell love, but it really wasn't all that complicated or interesting. Just pheromones, and an increased tendency towards nervous sweat. He could smell that Olive Snook was in love with the pie-maker, too, or at least thought she was, and that Ned the pie-maker had yet to seal the deed with his girl, though she was obviously open to the idea if he was leaving flour-prints on her dresses.
"Oh!" Ned the pie-maker said, belatedly. "This is Chuck, my. Uh. Girlfriend."
Chuck beamed; behind their backs, Olive glared.
"Great," Logan assured him. "Hey, look, can I talk to you in private? It's just that, uh, I want it to be a surprise for my little angel here," he added, gritting his teeth.
"Yeah, um, come on back, we can talk in the kitchen," Ned stammered.
"We'll just stay here and talk about girl things!" Chuck said cheerfully, taking Logan's seat across from Marie. "Olive, come sit with us!"
Well, that took care of the waitress-slash-Pomeranian, at least. Logan followed Ned into the kitchen and cornered him by the sink. "I know what you are," he said bluntly.
"A... pie-maker?" Ned asked, bewildered.
"Besides that. You're a mutant. You bring people back from the dead."
The pie-maker looked at Logan's expression and decided not to bother with denial. "Not really. They have to die again sixty seconds later. I can't bring them back a second time."
Logan blinked. "That's a pretty shitty power, kid."
"I know." Ned glanced down at his hands, which were in gloves just in case he brushed up against Chuck. "Believe me, I know."
"Okay, I'm supposed to tell you that you're not alone, there's help out there for people like you, if you need anything call the number on the card I'm leaving on your counter, but you're old enough to take care of yourself and you seem to be doing okay, so I'm going to take Marie and head on home."
"So you really are getting married?" Ned asked, strangely hopeful.
"Naw. She's, you know. Like us. She can't touch anybody, skin-to-skin."
The pie-maker smiled at Logan, ever so slightly. "Well, there's always a workaround." He turned back to his pies, adding over his shoulder, "Tell Olive I'm giving you a pie, on the house. Whichever one Marie wants."
"Thanks," Logan said, and went back out to collect Marie. He was pretty sure that Ned hadn't told him the whole story, but he frankly didn't care all that much. He'd identified the mutant and gotten Marie out of the house, so as far as he was concerned, his mission was a success. Ned probably knew what he was doing.
Olive had gotten up to serve the customers, so it was just Chuck and Marie, gossiping over half-finished slices of pie. They made a weird if pretty picture, two girls in gloves and scarves, covered up as much as feasible, despite the warm temperature indoors. "C'mon, Marie, pick a pie and we're going."
"Blackberry," Marie decided, smiling at Chuck. The older woman got up to box up their pie behind the counter.
"Here you go," she announced, tying a ribbon around the box. "Compliments of the Pie Hole."
"Thank you," Marie replied, and started to struggle with her coat. Logan sighed and held out the sleeve for her, settling it on her shoulders when she finally got it on. As she picked up the pie, they both caught sight of Ned and Chuck in the kitchen. They were kissing, but there was something funny about the way Chuck was holding her hands up, and Logan realized that she was holding a sheet of plastic wrap between her face and Ned's.
There's always a workaround, Logan thought, almost cheerful. Marie gave him a shy smile as they walked out the door, and slipped her free hand into his. It was cold and snowy out, and nobody looked twice at a couple holding gloved hands.
fandom: x-men (all three movies) crossed over with pushing daisies
pairing: logan/marie, ned/chuck
rating: g
word count: 1600
disclaimer: I own nothing, not even my soul (pawned it for tuition payments), so sue me not, for nothing shalt thou receive.
nota bene: I can't be the only person to think this would be an awesome universe to play in, can I?
Logan had cased the joint before he even sat down. Only one exit, which he had insisted on facing; one door to the kitchen behind the counter, which he could also keep an eye on from where he was sitting. The scattering of customers, despite the early hour, lent the place an air of normality, as did the obnoxiously bubbly blond waitress. It was not Logan's usual type of hangout. "Olive Snooks" (whatever the hell kind of name that was) wouldn't even let him smoke or bring him a beer, and she hadn't looked in the least intimidated when he snarled at her.
However, he reflected with well-concealed resignation, it was the sort of place an ordinary teenager might like, and Marie was already plowing through her third slice of pie, looking happier than she had in months. Ever since her powers had started coming back, she'd retreated more and more behind layers of clothing and sullen silence, and she hadn't left the mansion at all. So Logan had taken the mission, humiliating as it was, to track down a potential mutant pie-maker, solely in order to get her out of the house. He thought it was a pretty damn cunning plan.
"This is the best pie ever," she enthused. "Want a bite?"
"No," Logan grumbled. "I thought the last pie was the best pie ever."
"They're all the best pie ever," Marie said, eyes shining. "Open your mouth."
"I said no," Logan started, only to be interrupted by a forkful of cherry pie. The ensuing noises he made could have been interpreted as indignation, he thought, soothing his dignity. Even if they had been pure bliss. Marie was right; it was the best pie ever.
"Can I get you anything else?" Olive Snooks, the blond harpy of a waitress, descended upon them with the creepy smile of a used car salesman who knows that all his advertising statements are actually true and, moreover, his products are addictive. "More coffee? More pie?"
"We'd like to speak with the pie-maker," Logan said, pre-empting the request he just knew Marie was about to make. He didn't mind spoiling her a little - Christ knew nobody else was doing it - but he was pretty sure that four slices of pie for breakfast would earn him words from Ororo when they got home.
"Well, I'm afraid he's a bit busy in the kitchen at the moment," Olive apologized, not sounding the least bit sorry. "But I can get you whatever pie you'd like without bothering him."
"It's about a special pie," Marie said, smiling sweetly and pouring on the Southern drawl like syrup. Logan kicked her under the table, but she ignored him. "For our wedding."
"Oh, isn't that just darling!" Olive cooed to Marie, shooting Logan a glare that shouted, Child molester. "You stay right there, and I'll see if he can spare a moment to come out and talk with you." She flounced off.
"Wedding?" Logan hissed to Marie as soon as she was out of ear-shot. "Have you lost your mind?"
"I didn't invent our cover," she said smugly. "Didn't you read our mission assignment? And anyway, it worked."
Logan scowled, but there wasn't much of an argument to be made when in fact it had worked, so he drank his coffee in grumpy silence.
The pie-maker, when he stumbled out of the kitchen with Olive on his heels like a particularly yappy little dog, didn't look like anybody's idea of a mutant necromancer. He was tall and awkward and wholesomely good-looking, in a nervous sort of way. Logan disliked him on principle. He could hear Marie sighing a little across the table.
"Um, hi, I'm Ned, this is my pie-shop, and Olive said you wanted a pie, in which case you came to the right place, I mean, obviously, it's called the Pie Hole and also you've been eating pie, I did think the cherry turned out pretty well today, though I recommend the blackberry especially, Chuck said it was really good, and Olive did too, but she says that about all my pies so I don't know if that counts for much. Um. Hi?"
"Hi, I'm Marie," Marie said, smiling. She had such a terrible and misplaced soft spot for the socially maladjusted. "This is Logan. We were hoping we could talk to you about making a pie for our wedding."
"You're getting married? That's wonderful! Congratulations!" They all glanced back at the kitchen door, where a brunette in a brightly colored dress was standing. There was a white hand-print at the curve of her waist - flour. "I'll just bring you some more pie," she added, beaming. Logan almost explained that Marie had already had three slices that morning and he didn't care for sweets, but his "bride" kicked him very hard in the shin and glared, and by the time he was done promising retribution using nothing but the subtle movement of his eyebrows, the dark-haired woman was placing two plates of pie on the table. Also, well. It was pretty much the best pie ever.
While Marie was digging into her slice of peach pie, Logan gave the newcomer a once-over. She was standing just barely out of reach of Ned the pie-maker, both of them awkwardly gravitating towards each other and away again. Logan didn't really need his nose to tell him that they were in love, though it did tell him that (as well as the fact that the girl raised bees and liked strawberry-scented shower gel). The Professor had nearly died of scientific curiosity when Logan mentioned that he could smell love, but it really wasn't all that complicated or interesting. Just pheromones, and an increased tendency towards nervous sweat. He could smell that Olive Snook was in love with the pie-maker, too, or at least thought she was, and that Ned the pie-maker had yet to seal the deed with his girl, though she was obviously open to the idea if he was leaving flour-prints on her dresses.
"Oh!" Ned the pie-maker said, belatedly. "This is Chuck, my. Uh. Girlfriend."
Chuck beamed; behind their backs, Olive glared.
"Great," Logan assured him. "Hey, look, can I talk to you in private? It's just that, uh, I want it to be a surprise for my little angel here," he added, gritting his teeth.
"Yeah, um, come on back, we can talk in the kitchen," Ned stammered.
"We'll just stay here and talk about girl things!" Chuck said cheerfully, taking Logan's seat across from Marie. "Olive, come sit with us!"
Well, that took care of the waitress-slash-Pomeranian, at least. Logan followed Ned into the kitchen and cornered him by the sink. "I know what you are," he said bluntly.
"A... pie-maker?" Ned asked, bewildered.
"Besides that. You're a mutant. You bring people back from the dead."
The pie-maker looked at Logan's expression and decided not to bother with denial. "Not really. They have to die again sixty seconds later. I can't bring them back a second time."
Logan blinked. "That's a pretty shitty power, kid."
"I know." Ned glanced down at his hands, which were in gloves just in case he brushed up against Chuck. "Believe me, I know."
"Okay, I'm supposed to tell you that you're not alone, there's help out there for people like you, if you need anything call the number on the card I'm leaving on your counter, but you're old enough to take care of yourself and you seem to be doing okay, so I'm going to take Marie and head on home."
"So you really are getting married?" Ned asked, strangely hopeful.
"Naw. She's, you know. Like us. She can't touch anybody, skin-to-skin."
The pie-maker smiled at Logan, ever so slightly. "Well, there's always a workaround." He turned back to his pies, adding over his shoulder, "Tell Olive I'm giving you a pie, on the house. Whichever one Marie wants."
"Thanks," Logan said, and went back out to collect Marie. He was pretty sure that Ned hadn't told him the whole story, but he frankly didn't care all that much. He'd identified the mutant and gotten Marie out of the house, so as far as he was concerned, his mission was a success. Ned probably knew what he was doing.
Olive had gotten up to serve the customers, so it was just Chuck and Marie, gossiping over half-finished slices of pie. They made a weird if pretty picture, two girls in gloves and scarves, covered up as much as feasible, despite the warm temperature indoors. "C'mon, Marie, pick a pie and we're going."
"Blackberry," Marie decided, smiling at Chuck. The older woman got up to box up their pie behind the counter.
"Here you go," she announced, tying a ribbon around the box. "Compliments of the Pie Hole."
"Thank you," Marie replied, and started to struggle with her coat. Logan sighed and held out the sleeve for her, settling it on her shoulders when she finally got it on. As she picked up the pie, they both caught sight of Ned and Chuck in the kitchen. They were kissing, but there was something funny about the way Chuck was holding her hands up, and Logan realized that she was holding a sheet of plastic wrap between her face and Ned's.
There's always a workaround, Logan thought, almost cheerful. Marie gave him a shy smile as they walked out the door, and slipped her free hand into his. It was cold and snowy out, and nobody looked twice at a couple holding gloved hands.
