B Y E B Y E B R A D Y – O N E S H O T
Synopsis: Chad convinces Sonny to participate in his celebrity auction. Will he regret it when a hells-over-head mega fan takes her on a date that leaves her…speechless? Channy! R&R! T for language and creepy geeks.
Rating:T for kidnapping. That sounds creepy. But it's not I swear. Hahaha
Disclaimer:I don't own SWAC or Mrs. Butterworth's syrup.
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Sonny lightly drummed her fingers at the base of her passenger seat's window, marveling at the deep purple and red sunset painting itself on the sky before her.
This was the life - riding high (no, not on marijuana) in Chad Dylan Cooper's prized million-dollar convertible.
Only one problem; there was no CDC to be found, and this moment was far from 'the life'.
You see, Sonny was being held captive, locked in the front seat of Chad's white car in the hot blazing sun. With no air condition, if you care.
But on the bright side, at least she was being accompanied by a geeky Ginger mega fan. Oh wait, my mistake - there is no bright side. Only a dark, cloud full of creepy geeky mega fans.
Maybe we should start from the beginning....
"Chaaaaad!" Sonny Monroe whined, trying to get out if her awful promised duty.
They were in the famed prop house: Sonny sprawled across the couch, and Chad hovering above trying to reason with her. Kids these days.
He chuckled, "Sonny, you promised you would participate in my celebrity auction-off for charity. This is my first real fundraiser that doesn't have anything to do with books, opossums, or cable."
"Cable?" she mused, loosening up a bit.
"We didn't want hobos to have it," he smiled, remembering the distant memory that led him to beg at the feet of Sonny for her willingness.
"Fine, Chad. But only for the sick children in Africa," she grinned, standing up from the green couch. She loved charity – helping people made her smile. And who would be better to help than the ill kids in a three-world country?
Chad rubbed the back of his neck with his palm nervously. "Yeah, about that..."
"Still trying to get rid of illegal hobo cable networks?" Sonny asked, grinning at his immature personality.
He nodded. "Fans must pay to see this beautiful face."
She giggled, shaking his hand in agreement. Charity was, uh, charity…no need to put a label on it. Especially since anti-hobos-watching-cable is far too large to fit on a label.
"You better show," he warned, shaking a teasing finger her way.
"I'll be there, Cooper. Don't make me regret this." She threatened, glaring back at the blond.
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"I totally regret this." Sonny declared, looking around the room at the dozens of ginger hobos surrounding her with their somehow-full wallets. But hey – if they have cable, of course they'd show up to an auction. Duh.
He placed an apologetic arm around her shoulder. "I'm sorry; I didn't think you'd be the only celebrity in this celebrity auction-off to show up. You're too nice, Sonny, you should stop. Do us both a favor," Chad laughed, receiving a playful punch on the shoulder from Sonny.
"What if they eat me, Chad? I don't want to be alone with them." She shuddered, imagining her 'date' with one of these disasters.
"Now, now, Monroe. A promise is a promise. You are required to go on a date with whichever of these guys bids the highest." Chad reasoned.
She shivered at the thought. "Where would they take me, Chuck E. Peas? A McRonalds playhouse if I'm lucky?"
He laughed, taking his arm back from around her to cover his mouth.
"What if they try to kiss me?" She squeaked, her voice three octaves higher.
"Now that's where I draw the line. No kissing my girl."
"Your girl?" She yelled, causing him to blush as on-goers looked over at him with a questioning glance.
"No no no...I said no kissing pie girls. You're from Wisconsin, you like pies. Therefore, you are not to be kissed by anyone other than a worthy pie-liking prince."
"Awww, Chad, that's so sweet! But I hate pie..." Sonny laughed, forgetting her previous accusation on the blonde.
Chad clapped his hands together, moving up to the mike. "Alright everyone, settle down," he encouraged as all the hobos took a seat. "The first ever official Chad Dylan Cooper Celebrity Auction is now underway! Our first auction-ee, Sonny Monroe, will be bid on shortly."
"I'm not an object, Chad; you make it seem like buying me." Sonny whined.
Chad sent her an apologetic glance. "They are, just for one night… That came out wrong."
"HAHAHA, no. You better be thankful, Cooper." She scoffed, taking her seat at the middle of the stage, receiving a round of cheers from the hobos among her.
"Aaaaand, begin!" Chad yelled to the crowd, as the hobos shouted random numbers ranging from two dollars to ten.
"Five hundred!" A ginger-headed hobo in the back of the room called, causing the loud roar of the audience to come to a halt. You could hear the crickets.
Chad sighed, "To heck with it. Sold – er, borrowed? No, um, maybe like bid on, for five hundred dollars! Whew!" He yelled to the crowd, as the winner came to the top of the stage to claim his prize…Sonny.
"What's your name, son?" Chad asked curiously, grinning down at the young fellow.
"Brady. Brady Belson, sir. Nice to meet you." He said meekly, his shoulders slumping nerdish-ly as he talked. Sonny took a quick profile: he had long red hair down to his shoulders, bright green eyes, a smart brain considering the over-sized size of his noggin, pants up to his belly-button, a collared plaid dress shirt and penny loafers. Wow was she a lucky girl…
"Nice to meet you Grady," she grumbled, squatting down to meet his height as they shoot hands awkwardly.
"Brady." He instantaneously tossed back, viciously glaring at her momentarily and quickly calming down as he 'turned on the charm', smiling his geeky little smile.
"We better get going. I have reservations." Brady declared as-a-matter-of-factly, firmly gripping her hand and jerking her toward him as they walked out of the venue.
Chad waved, "See you later, Sonny!" He yelled over the roaring of the crowd.
She silently nodded his way, too angry for words at the moment. Of course she was the only celebrity to agree to this bull.
Sonny nervously walked to Brady's car with him, playing with the hem of her black band t-shirt as he literally skipped ahead of her. He unlocked the car, opening her door and ushering her inside. She obliged.
Hobos have cars, but not cable?She thought confusedly, eying Brady suspiciously.
Sonny looked around the car interior as he started up the car: a modern model, black leather seats, a mahogany radio and control section, a crystal…heck, this car must've cost thousands! Well, after years of holding buckets out on the streets, I suppose it could be possible…
"Well," Brady began curtly, "it's time for dinner. We're going to Dick's." He declared, pulling out of the studio parking lot and onto the highway, keeping his eyes on Sonny regardless of the fact that he was driving a car.
Sonny froze in confusion, letting out a labored breath as she realized it was just a restaurant name.
She flattened out her skirt. "What do they have there?"
"Crabs." He replied, smirking as if he knew what would flash through her mind right after his comment. And he did.
"We're getting crabs at Dick's?" She almost screeched, ready to ditch Brady and run to the studio dressing room for safety.
"Of course. But it's quite a drive… So I brought snacks." Brady charmingly smiled, displaying his crooked un-brushed teeth covered in what she assumed were new braces.
She smiled. "Thanks. A snack would be nice. After rehearsals all day I could sure go for some–"
Brady swiftly reached behind his seat and pulled out something.
"Maple syrup?" Brady asked enthusiastically, holding up a family size bottle of Mrs. Butterworth's.
Sonny froze, staring at the bottle disbelievingly, slightly shaking her head in fear.
"That's not, uh, exactly my cup of tea, Brady. I'm not a huge fan of Mrs. Butterworth's. Sorry," she replied, finding herself scooting farther and farther away from his seat as the date progressed.
He gasped. "You don't like syrup? Not on your waffles? Not on your spaghetti? I paid five hundred dollars for a syrup hater?!" He squealed, strongly resembling a little child that stepped in dog crap.
"Um… I'm pretty sure anyone you could have 'paid for' wouldn't eat syrup straight from the bottle. That's just nasty and morally wrong."
He snorted, "Sure they would. You're just weird. Just try a sip and I'll give you some pretzel-its in the backseat. Just a sip. It won't kill you."
Brady handed her the bottle with an unattractive lopsided grin on his face. Not half as cute as Chad's, she mused, mentally cursing her brain and she realized what she had just thought.
Her shaky hand reached out for the bottle, popping the cap open as soon as the syrup slid down the bottle to the bottom. She leaned back, seeing the happy anticipation in Brady's eyes, as she took a swig of the crazed man's poison drink.
Sonny nearly hurled, coughing at the over-sweetness. Brady simply pursed his lips angrily, displeased at her reaction to his favorite treat.
He suddenly pulled into a spot, causing the un-capped bottle to drizzle syrup all over Sonny's new outfit.
"We're here." He happily announced, forgetting the previous encounter and hopping out of the convertible eagerly.
Sonny groaned. "Hehh. I suppose time flies when you're having...fun." And with that, she stepped out of her unopened door and walked to Brady's side.
Patty's Pancake Palace, the restaurant sign read. Try saying that five times fast.
You have got to be kidding me, she thought. The building was similar to the old café in all the movies: tacky pink and white exterior, and font that looks like little kid handwriting.
Walking toward the entrance, Brady began humming a lively tune which gradually, like most things Brady did, found its way to Sonny's nerves.
"What song is that?" Sonny asked.
"Hmmm?" Brady murmured his mouth full of syrup.
She flared her nostrils, "The song you're humming. What is it?"
He smiled. "Ode to Maple Syrup. Wanna hear the lyrics?" He offered, raising his eyebrows in an attempt to be amusing. Needless to say, he failed miserably.
"Sure, why not." Sonny settled for, preparing her eyes for the worst.
Brady tapped his finger obnoxiously on his cheek three times to get a steady beat.
"Take out the bottle and dump it down your throat. It stays in the fridge, even water, because it floats! This drink had been my favorite, ever since my birth! But then again, who doesn't love Mrs. Butterworth's?"
He threw out his arms at the end, grinning like a famous Broadway star. This is exactly why he wasn't a famous Broadway star.
"Hahaha," Sonny laughed dryly, "good one. Really hilarious."
He smiled meekly. "I could write the lyrics down for you…"
"No, it's fine, don't strain your syrup-cap-opening hand. Let's just eat at this shack and then you can bring me back." She rushed out, trying to get in the restaurant and order as soon as she could.
"This shack happens to be my favorite place to eat at. It's my mother's." He nonchalantly bragged, opening the squeaking door and nearly slamming it on Sonny's face.
She forced a smile. "Well then, let's get some food."
Brady directed Sonny to a candlelit table in the back of the restaurant, far away from possible witnesses and saviors in case Brady tried anything. Damn it. The seats were crooked, the table cloth checkered and dusty, with only the flickering candle and two glasses of water occupying its area.
"Watch you're ste–" Brady began quickly, but he was too late.
The floor was glazed with slick water, causing Sonny to slip and slid to the opposite wall, beginning a harsh domino effect.
First the chair behind her toppled over, next the cabinet up against it, and then the cabinet's contents. Long, slimy pieces of a plant were thrown against her, scattering from her head to toe.
She pulled a piece off of her flip flop. Seaweed?! This was officially the worst date she'd ever been on.
Brady flew to her side, pulling her up onto her feet.
"I said to watch out." He groaned impatiently.
She rolled her eyes, "You could have said that before I walked into a recently mopped room."
"Well it's behind us now. Or should I say, on us." He said, pointing to her body and snickering quietly. "Let's just sit."
Brady pulled out her chair, and soon sat across from her in his. Sonny, on the other hand, placed her palm at the butt of the chair and pressed, surveying its strength for safety purposes. She nodded acceptably, taking a seat.
"What would you like to eat?" He asked, his voice slightly seductive as he slid his fist closer to hers until he wrapped it tightly around hers. Her eyes widened as she raked her brain for a way to retract her hand.
"Time for me to drink a sip of water!" She replied, yanking her hand away from his as she picked up the glass and took a long sip.
He frowned, "Why'd you pull away your hand?"
"Uh… Well, I don't tell many people this," he leaned closer, "but I lost the usage of my right hand when I was twelve. I can't use it from my wrist down." She explained, accidentally tucking her hair behind her ear using her 'paralyzed' hand.
His finger shot out to point at the action. "You just used that hand, liar!"
"Uh-uh. I used my elbow to maneuver the base of my hand to be ear, which moved it back without requiring any special motion."
He sunk back in his chair, accepting her explanation.
"So? You never answered my question. What do you want to eat? We have grilled cheese, smiling burgers, fries, happy hot dogs, and interesting ice cream cones!"
Sonny sighed. "What's on the adult menu?" She asked, not craving, or wanting, for that matter, any of the foods he had just named.
He looked taken aback. "That is the adult menu. I get it – this isn't the Ritz of restaurants, but just take a chill pill little miss."
Little miss? Oh, kill me. She mentally shot herself.
"I'll take fries." She ordered.
"Are you anorexic?" He accused, his rude finger pointing at her face once again.
"I don't have much of an appetite. Please just get me fries. It's all I want." Sonny reasoned, her eyes pleading for him to accept.
He grumbled something incoherently, "Fine."
Brady got up and pushed his chair in, leaving to tell the cook their orders.
Sonny took advantage of the time, pulling out her phone to text Chad for help.
7:34 P.M. March 11th, 2010
To: CDC
Chad, come get me right now! This guy is a freak and he's seriously starting to freak me out. We're at Patty's Pancake Palace.
- Sonny
A reply came soon after.
7:35 P.M. March 11th, 2010
From: CDC
I'll be there in an hour or so, give or take a few minutes. I have to eat too, y'know. Hang in there.
- TV's Chad Dylan Cooper
Cluck. She groaned inwardly. As if on cue, Brady bounced back to his seat with the usual spring in his step.
"The food will be here shortly. We have leftover fries from a few days ago, so we'll just pop them in the microwave." He said, engulfing her hand with his death grip once again.
"Until then…maybe we could, y'know…" He waggled his eyebrows.
She froze, flabbergasted. "No, sorry. I don't do anything on the first date. I come from a very conservative family." She lied swiftly. Oh acting…
Brady withdrew his hand grumpily. "Fine."
The food arrived shortly after, her fries shimmering with grease, fat, and piles of salt. Scrumptious.
Sonny shoveled all the food in her mouth, craving not the food but for the date to come to its well-earned end. Brady finished soon after, pulling his paper bib out of his shirt in a swift motion.
"Well, we must be on our way. I was supposed to have you back at 8. Oh look at the time: 8:26. I'm such a rebel… But I heard you like 'em feisty." He smirked, clearly not comprehending the disgusted and annoyed expression planted on her face.
She forced out a laugh, sliding her phone (which apparently she had been clutching onto with her hand) in her pocket and speed-walking to the front of the restaurant and out the door, followed closely by Brady.
"Wait up! Sonny!" Brady screamed after her, finally catching up to her once they reached his parking spot.
"Just ready to leave. I have a weird feeling in my stomach."
He tried smiling charmingly, "I never knew it'd be you that couldn't wait to get in a car… This must be fate calling."
"Yeah sure, whatever, let's just get back to the studio. We're already late enough," she babbled, getting into the convertible just as he unlocked it.
The rest of the car ride was silent. That is, unless you count Brady's Ode to Syrup song as a conversation.
He turned the wheel to the left, pulling into Sonny's studio parking place. He put the car in drive. Sonny shook herself out of her daze.
"Just one more thing," he said as Sonny gazed out the opposite window at the sunset.
She turned to see what he was talking about and her eyes widened in realization. His eyes were closed, his face barely inches from hers. He wanted a kiss…
Brady slowly leaned closer, puckering his lips out two inches as Sonny cowered back, leaning as far as the car seat would allow her.
But to her complete happiness, his car door was jerked open and Brady was yanked back from her.
"Excuse me, mister, but you are under violation of California law concerning the act of kidnapping. You'll need to come with me down to the office," the beefy police officer urged.
Brady chuckled his unattractive geek laugh. "But sir, I'm on a date."
The LAPD officer laughed, "it's not a date if it's not willing, son." He lectured, securing Brady's hands together with handcuffs as he dragged him off to the police cruiser.
Sonny sighed, content. No crazed date, no kidnapping, just peace and–
"AHHHHHH!" Sonny screamed, as a muscularly-built man with dark shades slid in the front seat. She covered her eyes with one hand, using the other to feel for the door handle.
A familiar chuckle was heard.
"Chill, Sonny, it's me." Chad soothed, his arm now wrapped tightly around in an effort to comfort the freaked-out brunette. He pulled of his Ray Bans and grinned at her.
"Jesus." She panted, as the teenager before her smiled happily.
He smirked, "I told you I wouldn't let some crazy stranger kiss you!"
"Thank you so much, Chad! If only you could have come a tad bit earlier…" She dragged off, her face down in embarrassment.
His face fell. "He already kissed you?"
Before me? His ego annoyingly reminded him.
"No… But this date has been hell. Charity isn't your thing."
"And seaweed isn't yours," he tossed back, plucking a strand out of her hair and laughing. His mood visually lightened in satisfaction for Sonny's unkissed-ness.
"I'm just glad you're safe and kiss-free," he declared.
A smirk suddenly appeared on her face. "Kiss-free? Why, are you jealous?"
He blushed furiously, muttering a quick "yeah", surprising the both of them.
"Y-you were?" She squeaked out.
"Kind of… I mean you willingly went on a date with a random stalker before you agreed to ever go on one with me." He muttered glumly.
"I've gone out on a date with you. I've even kissed you before."
"Your hand was over my mouth. You never kissed me."
"Still. Nothing on my body ever got the chance to touch his lips because of you," she smiled cheekily, as they subconsciously grew closer to each other.
She leaned up to softly kiss his cheek, her face lingering close for awhile to take in his scent.
"There. Now I've kissed you." She announced, grinning triumphantly.
"I'm afraid that peck won't suffice, Sonny," he whispered huskily into her ear, leaning down to capture her lips with his for real.
I hope you liked it! In case you want to sing along with Brady, here are the lyrics to the Ode to Syrup:
Take out the bottle and dump it down your throat.
It stays in the fridge, even water, because it floats.
This drink had been my favorite, ever since my birth!
But then again, who doesn't love Mrs. Butterworth's?
Review and tell me what you thought (: byebye!
- S3r3ndipity