|Don't Judge Me
Author: suspect tomatoes PM
You couldn't really blame him - it is pretty catchy. Shannon/OC one-shot.Rated: Fiction M - English - Humor - Words: 1,240 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 3 - Published: 11-22-08 - Status: Complete - id: 4670407
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: Please tell me to stop listening to Usher. I'm trying to write my Edge story for Christ's sake.
There was some sort of whimsical beat floating through the house when I pushed open the front door of Shannon's place, shopping bags banging against the wood noisily. I paused in the doorway, key stuck in the lock, cocking my ear to make out the words filtered into the blasting tune. It changed abruptly to a deep bass, a rapping voice slamming into my ear drums.
I blinked. "Shan?"
There was clanging around, then the music cut off. "Uh, yeah! In... uh, I'm in the kitchen!"
I frowned, ripping my keys from the door before slamming it shut, tossing them somewhere without much thought. I almost kicked Hela out of my way when she came up and put her tiny paws on my legs. The stupid little mutt – I couldn't stand her.
"Get out of here," I hissed, thumping her to the side gently with my shoe. I went past the other monster known as Dragon – appropriately named, I know – and went through the doorway, seeing Shannon over by the stove.
He was shirtless and his Mohawk was down, but held back off his face with a bandanna tied over his ears. He had a spatula in his hand, an innocent look on his apple-cheeked face.
I pursed my lips. "What's going on?"
Shan smiled, eyes averting. "Uh... Just some lunch. I'm makin'... makin' some lunch."
He pointed at me with the cooking utensil. "What's in the bag?"
I glanced down. "Shoes."
He thumped his hand against the side of his thigh. "Rae – "
"It was on my credit card, leave me alone." I smashed the bags onto one of the kitchen chairs, pausing when I smelled something off. I frowned, sniffing the air. "Shan... what's that smell?"
"I'm burning my hamburger – "
"No, it smells like... " I moved over to him, sniffing his shoulder. "Perfume."
His eyes widened. "Perfume? Why would I smell like perfume?"
I crossed my arms. "You tell me."
His mouth open, he looked away, stabbing at the meat in the pan. "Looks like it's ready."
"Shannon, why do you smell like a woman?"
He wouldn't look at me. "I have no idea what you're talkin' about."
I felt my blood boiling, my fists clenching against my biceps. I didn't say anything else, just went out of the kitchen, thumping open the closet doors, checking under the couches.
Shannon followed me, empty plate in his hand. "What're you doin', Rae?"
"Where is she?" I demanded, checking the hallway.
He blinked. "Where's who?"
"You know who!"
"Rae, you know how dumb I really am. Don't play games."
"Playing games? You should talk about playing games." I started up the stairs, pulling myself with the railing. "Where is she, Shannon?"
He came up after me. "Goddamn it, Rae, who?"
"The person you cheated on me with!"
Shannon tripped over his feet, skidding in his socks. "What?"
"You were playing some sexy tune when I came home, you looked guilty when I saw you, and you smell like perfume."
Shannon gaped at me as I pushed past him again, after checking upstairs. I went back into the kitchen, looking out into the back.
Maybe she was hiding in the pool...
"Rae, you're absolutely retarded if you think I'd cheat on you."
"It's happened before, Shannon." I leaned back against the window, crossing my arms.
He frowned. "No, it hasn't. Not with you."
"No, you cheated with me, remember?" I looked away, sighing.
"Rae, that relationship was shit already – "
"You still cheated." My eyes were watery. Karma was such a bitch. "Who is she, and where'd she go?"
Shannon tossed his plate into the sink, shattering the ceramic. "There's no fuckin' girl, Rae! Christ al-fuckin'-mighty, there's no fuckin' girl. Why won't you believe me?"
"Because you lie all the time!"
"No, I don't!"
"Okay, then why do you smell like perfume?"
Shannon frowned, but crossed his arms, the muscles near his collarbone tightening. "I... I bought you a fuckin' present, all right?" He scratched his head, eyes darkening. "But I goddamn broke it already. I dropped it. Okay? Are you fuckin' happy now?"
"That's the weakest fuckin' excuse – "
"Do you want to see it? It was for our anniversary." He pulled open one of the cupboards below the sink, pulling out a tiny, pink shopping bag, and thumped it on the counter. "It's in there, and it's broken. Watch your fingers, I don't want you to cut yourself."
I peered in the bag. Sure enough, there was a frosted bottle at the bottom, soaking the bag, shattered in the lace it came in. The smell was pungent, like rubbing alcohol, from sitting under the sink.
"Happy?" he demanded.
I frowned. "Not really."
He sighed. "Rae, baby, come on. I'd never cheat on you."
"But – "
"Don't." He snagged my shoulders, his painted nails cupping around my skin. "The past is the past. I wanted to be with you, and I couldn't help myself."
I looked away.
He shook me lightly. "You listenin'?"
"Okay. I love you."
I stayed silent.
He cocked his head to look into my eyes. "You hear me?"
I sighed irritably. "I love you, too."
"Makes me real happy when I have to force you to say it." He grinned, sliding his arms around my neck. "Christ, Rae. You gotta stop worryin'."
"Yeah, I know." I patted his back, sliding out of his embrace. I smiled softly at him. "Come on, let's make somethin' elaborate for lunch. Fuck hamburgers."
He gave me that oh-so-famous boyish grin of his. "Whattaya have in mind?"
I shrugged. "I don't know, let's figure somethin' out. Go look in the refrigerator, see what we have."
He nodded and headed over, bending into it while I threw his lunch away.
"How about a little music?" I suggested, and pressed the button on the stereo.
Shannon hit his head on the inside of the fridge trying to get out. "No, don't – "
Might as well give me a kiss, if we keep touchin like this
I know you scared baby, They don't know what we doin
Let's both get undressed right here,keep it up girl and I swear,
I'm a give it to you non stop
And I don't care, who's watchin... watchin... watchin
I'm pretty sure my mouth was open when I finally looked at him. He looked like he was physically in pain. His teeth were bared, his hand slapped over his eyes as he leaned back against the refrigerator door.
The song was over by the time I finally got my voice back. "You... You were listening to Usher?"
"It's a catchy tune!" He saw the look on my face and pointed at me. "Don't judge me!"
A/N: Yuk, yuk, yuk. I wouldn't be surprised, actually. This was based on a true story – Frank is one of those indie douche bags, like me, but I came home one day and found him listening to *NSYNC. Which is a little more embarrassing than Usher. Review.