The One in Which They Discuss Frankenstein
Still getting the feel for the characters, I’d appreciate any and all pointers or opinions. I totally see them goofing off like teens because, well, they are.
TW: Straight crack. Bad grammar. Not beta’d, I live to suffer.
Yuu was familiar with a lot of things. The way water moved between their fingers. The resistance of air against their arm when they stuck it out of a car window. They could pinpoint the difference between sweltering heat and sticky humidity. So then. On this day. This Tuesday (if Twisted Wonderland even called it that). A day of no importance, no consequence. Why was it-- On today, of all days, Yuu had to endure the most bizarre, outlandish, absolutely garbage take that was Ace Trappola’s cooking?
“This is like, if Frankenstein chose a career in cooking, instead of being a mad scientist,” Deuce fired, point blank. Ace sputtered, waving his arms around as if floundering in the deep end of a pool. Yuu turned to Jack, who was sitting adjacent to them on Ramshakle’s newest thrift; a striped couch that belonged on one of those seasonal popcorn tins grandmas always have.
“You guys have Frankenstein?” Jack placed Ace’s spaghetti-or was it stir-fry? -aside. Scratching the back of his neck he tilted his head in the way that very much reminded Yuu of a large dog before replying.
“I mean yeah, but I don’t think comparing this to a war criminal is too accurate,” Jack crossed his arms and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. Yuu’s head tilted like the aforementioned dog.
“Thank you, Jack,” Ace exclaimed, sitting back into the loveseat across from the prefect and Jack with a flourish, “some people have taste!” He bit at Deuce, crossing his arms in indignance. Deuce’s face contorted.
“Dude”- ah, Yuu noted, his punk tone was beginning to set in- “you used three types of nuts in this salad.” Ace shot forward, pointing at Grim, who was sat between the prefect and Jack, perfectly content shoving his face into his plate of Ace’s…whatever it was.
“Grim likes it!” The prefect and Jack shared a look. Grim paused his gorging with a “mrh?”
“That’s not saying much” the group, excluding Ace, deadpanned. Ace frowned, clearly outvoted, but never willing to admit it, he makes a valiant rebuttal.
“It’s better than that tart you made for us last week Deuce, like strawberries and apples, seriously?!” Alright, maybe not valiant. Deuce gasped, grasping his fist to his chest like a grandma gripping her pearls.
“At least you could tell what it was supposed to be!” The two quickly devolve into another argument, hissing and spitting. Yuu mentally tallied to their checklist of requirements for the dorm a spray bottle. And a recipe book. Passing their plate onto Grim, who had just finished polishing off his third serving, Yuu turned to Jack once more.
“Backtracking, what do you mean war criminal?” Jack, thankful for civilized conversation Yuu was sure, turned back to them.
“Because Frankenstein is a famous war criminal.” Thank you Jack, for giving absolutely nothing.
“Okay,” Yuu drawled, “but like, what’d he do in the book to get that label, like, does your world have different laws or?” Jack blinked. Ace and Deuce’s argument stopped on a dime. Grim, unsurprisingly, kept eating.
“Book,” Jack said, face devoid of emotion.
“Yeah,” Yuu circled a hand as they spoke, “The book, Frankenstein, written by Mary Shelly, that book.” Yuu was startled as the loudest guffaw erupted from across the coffee table. Ace gripped both hands on his stomach as he quickly became debilitated with laughter. Yuu wondered if the concoction he crafted would match the colors of his uniform.
“Erm-“Deuce, loveable Deuce, dependable Deuce was visibly searching for words, to Yuu’s dismay, he began steadily turning red from the roots of his hair down to his chin.
“I’m confused” Yuu quickly looked between their friends.
“The Book” Jack repeated, same inscrutable look on his face. Yuu rushed to stand, unable to sit passively while it seemed they were quickly becoming a joke in a way they didn’t understand.
“Yes, the book, the one everyone has to read in literature class, that book!” Ace began howling even louder at Yuu’s proclamation, falling onto the floor with a thud. Deuce’s face contorting into abject mortification as he too, slid off the couch, burying his burning face into his hands. Jack coughed into his fist, turning slightly away, he also, to Yuu’s mounting displeasure, looked embarrassed.
“I think this is one of those moments where our worlds, ah, differ” Jack refused to meet the prefect’s eyes.
“You think?!” Ace cackled.
“Erm, Prefect,” Yuu turned to Deuce whose voice wobbled out from behind his hands, “in our world, that uhm book, well, its, the book-“ Deuce began to trip and stutter over his words, sounding more miserable by the second. Ace took a moment from his wheezing to lift his head and say,
“Yuu, I don’t know about your world, but in ours, that book is straight monster po-“Jack shot up with a force that pushed the couch several feet back. Grim cried out in alarm, attempting to juggle his plate away from spilling all over his front. Ace started wheezing again. The prefect’s face burned in mortification as they flinched, lifting their arms to defend against an invisible enemy.
“Goodnight” Jack all but shouted, clearing the room faster than Ruggie could clear Leona’s wallet. Deuce scrambled after him, stopping in the doorway to bounce back and forth on his feet before returning to drag Ace out by his legs. He would not meet Yuu’s gaze. Yuu most certainly did not want to meet anyone’s eyes for the next century.
“Goodnight, Prefect” Ace called, laughing all the while. The dorm to Ramshackle dorm closed with a bang. Grim was grumbling and groaning about almost having dinner ruined, but Yuu was deaf to it all as they backed into the wall, burying their face in their hands, much like Deuce had done, as they sank down. After a time, Grim floated over, brushing off stray crumbs of Ace’s cooking before hovering inquisitively over the Prefect.
“Oi Yuu, what’s wrong with you?” Yuu buried their face even deeper into their knees, arms curling around their head.
“I hate it here” they grouched.
I headcannon that none of them can cook, and they for sure have hangout nights.