V is for Very Special Brownies
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, I did not make the brownies. I only joke about them.
Amita Ramanujan lay very still as she gathered enough information out of her memory to figure out where she was, how she had gotten there, why her mouth tasted like used kitty litter and who was trying to drill a hole in her skull…
…from the inside.
Raising her head slightly, she took in her surroundings and frowned. She didn't own satin sheets, and she'd never buy anything this particular lurid shade of pink. Moving her head cautiously from side to side, she was surprised to find no pillows, blankets or even a top sheet.
Great, she was lying naked on a naked bed in, presumably, the naked city.
She wasn't cold, however. It was summer. Besides, there was a lovely warm body snuggled up to her…
She froze, metaphorically, and tried to acquire as much data as should could through the skin of her back.
Her bed companion was male… most definitely male… and judging by the tickle against her upper back, he must have chest hair… There was a definite scent of chalk, but also a faint sickly sweet odor that she couldn't place.
Slowly she pulled free and eased herself over to take a look at her companions. "Oh, please be Charlie," she muttered. She wasn't sure if she could take waking up with a stranger, or worse an acquaintance like Charlie's brother…
There was sufficient light for her to recognize her lover.
She sighed with relief.
Charlie stirred and his eyes blinked open. "Wha?" he said. He tried to look around, but apparently he was hung over as well.
"Good morning," Amita rasped. "I don't know how we wound up here, either. Or even where here is."
"Tha's too bad," Charlie muttered. "I was hoping one of us had a memorable time."
Amita surprised herself by giggling. She interrupted herself with a cough.
Charlie sat up slowly and looked around. Spotting an ice bucket that was sitting on the nightstand next to his side of the bed, he picked up the lid and looked in.
Charlie picked up one of the glasses standing next to the ice box and dipped it into the bucket. "The ice has melted, but I'm guessing this is still colder than anything from the faucet," he said, handing the glass to Amita.
Amita took a cautious sip, and then pressed the cool glass against her forehead.
Slowly, Charlie maneuvered himself out of bed and looked around, apparently trying to make sense of the tangle of cloth that was draped over the bed and piled on the floor.
"Do you remember anything?" Amita asked.
"Um, let's see…" he said. He pulled the top sheet free of the tangle and handed the edge to Amita. "There was this incredibly boring seminar in Palm Springs," he said.
Amita nodded, and then winced. "We signed up for a side trip to Las Vegas," she added.
"Oh, yeah, that awful picnic," Charlie said. "What were those sandwiches supposed to be?"
"I don't know," Amita said. "All I had was the salad."
"Uh-huh," Charlie's tone indicated skepticism. You didn't have any beer? Or desert?"
Amita didn't deign to answer.
Charlie padded into the bathroom and returned with two damp washcloths and a white terrycloth robe. He also had towel around his waist, which disappointed her a little.
He put the bathrobe on the foot of the bed and handed Amita one of the washcloths. "Why do they only put out one robe?" he wondered, pressing his washcloth to his eyelids. "Do they expect us to share?"
Amita drank more water before trying to answer. "I guess you're expected to pay for a second one."
"Wonderful," he said. He cracked an eye open and looked at her. "I don't suppose you have any aspirin on you. I mean, with you."
"There's Midol in my purse," she said.
Charlie looked around. "Um," he said.
Amita looked around. There were shopping bags strewn among the clothes, but she didn't see her purse off hand. She was afraid to lean over and look under the bed for fear she'd be sick.
"There's nothing in the bathroom?" she asked.
Charlie started to shake his head, but realized that the gesture was a bad idea. "Nothing in there but Kleenex, soap, towels, one hairbrush, and those little shampoo bottles that most hotels supply."
He took a deep breath and approached the heavily curtained window with the same caution Jack Bauer must approach his days.
He peeked out, the pale light telling Amita that it must be early morning. A quick glance at the bedside clock radio confirmed that it was not yet 9 AM.
"What do you see?" she asked.
"I see Paris, I see France…" Charlie chanted.
Amita forced herself into an upright position. "Huh?" she wondered if Charlie was entirely sober yet.
"Well, actually I see the Eiffel Tower and the Statue of Liberty," Charlie replied. "And a black pyramid."
Amita actually had to think about that for a minute. "Oh, then we did get to Las Vegas," she said.
"Yah, guess so," Charlie said. He looked around. "Looks like we were pretty busy." He blinked and picked up a piece of paper. Very busy."
"What's that?"
Charlie squinted.
"Charlie?"
"It's our wedding certificate."
"You're kidding!" Amita wasn't sure what to feel.
Charlie handed her the paper.
Amita stared.
"I don't believe this…" she said.
Charlie ran his hand through his curls. "Um, Amita, we can get that annulled you know. I mean, I know we hadn't exactly planned… I mean, if you don't want to be married…"
"We missed the Flying Elvises! At our own wedding!"
Charlie blinked at her.
Amita faked a sniff. "I've been looking forward to being married by Elvis all my life!"
Charlie gaped.
"We'll have to try again… say, after breakfast?"
Charlie raised his hand and opened his mouth, but nothing came out but a squeak.
In spite of how it made her head feel, Amita started to laugh.
Charlie shot her a stern look and she fell over, howling.
"You want to laugh?" he said mock threateningly. "I'll give you something to laugh about." He wiggled his fingers in her direction.
Amita pulled the sheet over her head. But before Charlie could make his move, there was a trilling noise from the clutter.
"Mine or yours?" Amita asked.
"Mine, I think," Charlie said.
The sound led him to his cell phone, which was providentially in Amita's purse.
She dug out her Midol and listened to Charlie.
"Yes? Dad?" Charlie said. "Yes, we're okay." A small fib, but Amita figured that their families needed a little reassurance.
Amita swallowed her Midol, and then hunted around the floor for something to wear.
"Yes, Amita's with me."
Well, so much for reassuring her parents. Her father was probably polishing up his shotgun as they spoke.
She giggled again when she realized that it was too late for a shotgun wedding.
Charlie shot her a perplexed look.
"Um, yeah," Charlie said. "We went on the side trip." He wandered back to the bed and sat on the edge. "Brownies?"
Amita shrugged into Charlie's white dress shirt. It would work for now.
"What was wrong with the brownies?" Charlie asked, wide eyed.
"Did we get fed Alice B Toklas brownies??" Amita yelped.
Charlie looked at her, "Apparently so." He looked down at his phone. Then held it back up to his ear. "How did that happen? I mean, we didn't buy these from some guy on the street. These were being handed out by the reputable travel group that was hired by … Well, I suppose."
He paused and Amita could hear Alan's voice, but couldn't make out the words.
"She's right here," Charlie said. "You want me to put her on?"
The answer was clearly in the affirmative because Charlie handed the phone over.
"Hello?" Amita barely got out before her ears were assaulted by a furious diatribe from her mother about morals and shame on the family.
"Mother? Mother! It's not like we deliberately got stoned," Amita was interrupted by a second diatribe. "No, I did not notice anything wrong with the brownies… Well, at least they're under arrest."
A third tirade.
"MOTHER! Charlie and I didn't do anything wrong. No, we did not. We're married." She hung up and put her hands to her head and spilled the remains of her water all over the bed.
She muttered a foul word.
Charlie looked shocked.
"I'm an academic," Amita said. "I have a large vocabulary."
"Oh, right, um," Charlie said. "You want to shower first?"
Amita sighed. "No, you go first. You're faster. Pity I don't have any clean clothes, but I suppose we can go shopping."
Charlie indicated the pile of bags. "Looks like we already went," he said.
"Oh?" Amita managed to get out of bed. Ignoring, but pleased by, Charlie's admiring gaze, she pulled on the bathrobe. Then she checked out their purchases.
"Oh, my," she said. "We have expensive tastes when we're stoned." She pulled a small bag out of a larger bag, then pulled out a jewelry box.
A butterfly set with swarovski crystals hung on a black velvet cord.
Amita squealed like a little girl and ran into the bathroom.
Charlie followed her.
"Oh, fasten it on for me," Amita gushed. She pulled her hair to one side and bent her head as Charlie closed the clasp.
Amita let the robe slide down her shoulders as she modeled the necklace.
"What do you think?" she asked.
"Ahhh… I'll need a cold shower before I do anything resembling thinking," Charlie blurted.
Amita laughed and kissed him. "Flatterer," she said.
She went back into the bedroom and began to hunt through the bags for something to wear that would actually be street legal.
"Do you suppose we bought the pendent to go with this?" Charlie pulled a filmy, lavender teddy out of one bag. Sparkling sequins made a butterfly image on the front. Charlie stared at it, mesmerized.
"Pity you didn't wear this last night," he said.
"It didn't seem to put you off your game last night," Amita said, wiggling her eyebrows.
Charlie blushed.
He blushed even more as he realized that the rest of the underwear was equally racy.
Amita held up a pair of briefs. "Charlie, tiger stripes are so you," she said. "Can I get a few pictures for my website?"
Charlie narrowed his eyes, but before he could speak, Amita distracted him.
"Oh, look," she said, she held up a Walgreen's bag. "This bag has toiletries." She pulled out toothbrushes and toothpaste. She peered into the bag. "I doubt that we'll need the salacious sandalwood salts, not today."
Charlie peeked into the other Walgreen's bag and laughed. "We were rather ambitious, weren't we?" he pulled out several boxes of condoms. "Latex, sheepskin," he looked at her and waggled his eyebrows.
Amita laughed. "We may need those, husband-of-mine," she said. "At least, until we can get our marriage annulled."
Charlie's face fell a little.
"Do you want to stay married?" Amita asked. "I mean, I was thinking we might, someday, but I'm not sure I want this to be the way… I'd kind of like to remember our wedding."
Charlie looked relieved. "I would like to marry you… um… someday," he said.
Amita smirked as he headed for the shower. "Maybe we'll need to sleep on that," she said.
When she got out of the shower, she found the bed more or less made and Charlie sitting on the rumpled bedspread in his old jeans and a new Las Vegas t-shirt. Amita was going to ask if he was wearing the tiger stripes, but there was an indefinable expression on his face that made her hesitate.
"What's wrong?"
"Amita, maybe we'd better hold off on that annulment," he said.
Amita frowned in bewilderment. "What? Why?"
Charlie held up the condom boxes they had been laughing at. Amita looked at them in puzzlement, just realizing the implications as Charlie said. "None of them are open."
254 Days Later
Don Eppes shifted the brightly colored ponies under his arm as he walked briskly through the halls of Huntington Memorial Hospital looking for his father.
As expected, Alan Eppes was standing outside the nursery, looking in at his grandchildren.
"Oh, is this them?" Don said delightedly. He peered into the glass at the sleeping babies. He read their name plates and laughed.
Alan turned to his firstborn and gave a half-hearted smile. "Yes, this is them." He looked at the toys in Don's arms and raised an eyebrow. "You're getting into this uncle role, aren't you?"
The tone of Alan's voice made Don straighten up and study his father. "What's wrong?" he asked worriedly. "Dr. Suis assured me that being early wasn't uncommon with twins and that they weren't in jeopardy."
"Eh? Oh, no, no," Alan said. "They're fine. Great health, actually. Just a little small."
"Still worried about those idiots who put the marijuana in the brownies?" Don said.
Alan shook his head. "I don't understand why they did that," he said.
"They're nuts," Don said. "They wanted revenge on the catering company for firing them over using marijuana on the job. So they stole the load of brownies from the delivery truck and substituted the Alice B Toklas specials."
"They're not getting out soon, right?" Alan said anxiously.
"Oh, they'll be gone a good long time," Don said. "Some of the people got real sick." He tilted his head and gave his father a sideways look. "Charlie and Amita are lucky that they didn't get seriously ill."
Alan nodded. "I am aware of that," he said. "And I am properly grateful."
"So, try to look a little more enthusiastic," Don said. "Charlie and Amita are still kind'a embarrassed about how they wound up married. You don't want them to think that you're disappointed because you didn't get grandsons, do you?"
Alan shook himself. "What? Oh, of course not, these two are beautiful little girls. I'm really pleased. I just wish that they'd picked more appropriate names." He sighed. "Well, I'm headed back to Amita's room."
"I'll be there in a few," Don said. He turned back to his nieces and held up the stuffed ponies that he'd brought. "Hi, nieces!" he said, wiggling the stuffed animals. "Don't worry about your Grandpop, he'll come around soon enough. But look what your Uncle Don has brought you! Pretty ponies!"
He tapped the plush nose of the pink one against the glass and then he tapped the nose of the green one against the glass. "I've got a magenta one for Mary, and a jade green one for Jane!"