Author's Note: Sheen/Libby one-shot I dredged up from my LiveJournal archive. There aren't enough S/L fics that don't involve J/C.
This was written for the community "7snogs" and the prompt was "split milk".
And before you ask, no, I haven't written the tenth chapter for Inner Darkness yet. I could make excuses, but I won't. I just won't say anything.
The Early Bird Gets the Worm
There's no point in arguing over split milk. It pours down the table, soaks others, and splatters onto the floor. Sooner or later, someone has to clean it up, and, even after it's gone, the floor's still sticky. Split milk leaves a distinct residue and regardless of how it was split, what type of milk it was, or how much, it impacts its surroundings.
----
Sheen Estavez had always harbored a crush on Libby Folfax. He wasn't sure whether it was her pep, her addiction to music, or her attitude, but she exhilarated him. He worshiped the ground she walked on; in his eyes, no one ruled his heart finer. Unfortunately, while he adored her, he lacked the charm and eloquence of Jimmy when it came to expressing himself adequately (although perhaps he ought to reconsider that opinion, given Jimmy's girl troubles). Regardless, most of the time, Libby dismissed him as just plain 'weird'.
He knew she liked him, but those feelings weren't reciprocated as strongly as he felt them. Maybe they were 'pity' feelings, the way one regards someone who really likes you and you want to give them a chance because they're pathetically inept. Whatever the case, it depressed him, but, in typical Sheen fashion, he decided he'd conquer his flaws and win her over completely. Thus, on a drizzly Saturday morning, when the Candy Bar had been open only an hour (Sam opened at seven a.m. on Saturday for the 'garage sale hunters' breakfast'), Sheen nursed a strawberry milkshake (it's never too early for a shake), stared blankly at the menu, and repeated what he'd painstakingly memorized.
Practically everyone knew the boy suffered from a serious case of ADD, but when he really put his mind to it, eliminated distractions, and forced himself, he could memorize important material. Okay, so it had taken him the better part of a week when it would have taken others a day or less. He also had to ignore (excruciating in and of itself) whenever Ultra Lord aired. However, Sheen thought he had it. Or, rather, he hoped he did because if he hadn't nailed it by now, he didn't stand a chance.
The page he'd printed off the internet contained the lyrics to Libby's favorite song performed by her favorite band. He'd extracted that information out of Cindy, who then ordered him away and threatened to issue a restraining order.
He mouthed the words; while he hadn't the best voice, maybe she'd overlook that for his sincerity and affection. Sam had already berated him on Friday for singing aloud, so he stuck to mouthing the words, getting distracted by a fly, and punching himself in the thigh to induce concentration.
He knew if he asked Jimmy to help, the boy genius would gladly aid him. However, the idea was that Sheen could do this solitarily. Jimmy would probably invent an outlandish device that eliminated Sheen entirely, thus defeating the purpose. Besides, he desired to woo her on his own.
His last shot failed miserably, too. An impromptu kiss with Libby resulted in a slap and threats of further violence. Nonetheless, he'd rather enjoyed the endeavor. Whether or not it was worth it was another matter, but there was a possibility she'd let him kiss her without smacking him if he forewarned her. He hoped.
Sam arrived at his table and huffed, doubtlessly irritated he hadn't paid yet. Sheen waved him off; his eyes scanned the sheet and he mouthed the words again. Unfortunately, Sam would not be deterred and slammed his hand on the table. Sheen jumped and, alas, so did the milkshake. It skipped across the surface and drenched his lyrics. The ink ran and blurred the words beyond recognition. What he'd worked on for days was ruined.
"Great, now I have to clean up what you still haven't paid for!" Sam grumbled, striding behind the counter and dipping a rag in soapy water. Sheen paid him no mind. His heart had sunk at the sight of his badly mangled paper. Of course he'd forgotten to print more than one copy. Of course, now that this transpired, everything he'd striven for had flown out of his recollection. He tried his best and it wasn't good enough.
"Are you going to help?" Sam snapped, stooped over to wipe up. Sheen vaulted over him and left without paying. In his right hand was the ruined sheet. The doors swung back and forth.
"Hey, come back here, you delinquent!"
----
Libby normally awoke at nine and rendezvoused with Cindy at ten on weekends. Stretching, the African American girl yawned and glanced out of her window. What she saw caused her to rub her eyes in disbelief and pinch herself because she had to be dreaming. There was no way Sheen stood beneath her window with a radio, a mangled piece of paper, and puppy dog eyes.
"Sheen," she called after she'd dressed, "what are you doing down there?"
More importantly, do I want to know?
He didn't reply at first; he'd obviously grabbed a boom box heavier than he was capable of supporting, because he swayed. It contained a tape deck, CD player, and huge speakers. She rolled her eyes and kept her hand on the curtains. Maybe if this got embarrassing, she could pretend he'd lost his way. She pitied him, but if she got in trouble again for waking the neighborhood at an ungodly hour, he was going to get it.
"I came to wake you up!" Sheen called, grinning. At least, she presumed he was grinning. The boom box was too large to note his face. He swayed again and she winced, picturing him falling backwards. It wouldn't be the first time he tripped over himself to impress her.
"I'm already awake," Libby replied, rolling her eyes. "And there are noise ordinances in this town."
"I know, but..." He glanced at the paper, but, in doing so, disrupted his balance and tumbled to the ground. Fortunately, a rose bush broke his fall, but the player bounced. It thudded dully; the batteries scattered, the tape jammed, and the CD player's laser scratched the CD. And that was just external damage. She would be willing to bet inside, it was damaged beyond repair.
"Great, just great!" Sheen groaned, staring woefully at the broken electronic. He wrestled himself out of the rose bush only to tear his already pitiful sheet in two. Libby glanced at him and then, swallowing hard, at her bedroom door. Maybe it'd be best if she met Sheen in her yard before he lamented to the neighborhood.
"I planned this for a week..." he muttered, frustrated, and kicked a pebble. Libby sighed, interested but wary of others' interpretation of her screaming randomly, and informed him she'd be down in a second. Sheen muttered something distinctly sarcastic and she scoffed, grabbing her keys and darting down the stairs.
Maybe I should have asked Jimmy... Sheen thought, morose. But I wanted to do this on my own...
Desperate, he turned on the tape deck. The wheels wouldn't even rotate (and he'd replaced the batteries, too). He shook the boom box and the CD popped out. There went twenty bucks and his best laid plans, gone to waste. Stupid primitive technology; none of it took a beating. Plus there was the matter of the time spent memorizing the words, all of which eluded him. It was back to the drawing board.
"Sheen, what is up with you lately?" Libby asked, folding her arms across her chest. "It seems like every time I wake, you're there. And I gotta tell you, that's kind of creepy."
"I just wanted to do something to make you like me..." Sheen said, treading the ground with his blue boot. "You know, like serenade you."
"Have you listened to your voice?" Libby replied, shaking her head. "You couldn't serenade the dead."
"Hey!" Sheen protested. "I'm not that bad! My grandmother says I've got the voice of an angel."
"Yeah, on whack medicine," Libby retorted and Sheen hung his head. Smiling weakly, she patted his shoulder and he looked at her. He didn't return the smile.
"I told you before, I already like you. Why are you going through all this?"
" 'Cuz, Jimmy and Cindy-" he began, remembering his best friend's love/hate relationship with his former rival. The infamous one that everyone had heard of. The one people tripped over themselves to describe even when they had better things to do.
"Jimmy and Cindy have got their own problems," Libby replied, shaking her head. "That's a long story for another day."
"Yeah, but..." Sheen replied and she pressed a finger to his lips. He smiled weakly back, but his eyes fell to the paper in his hand. The one he continued to clutch, although you couldn't read anything on it. Libby tried to extract it, but he held fast.
Grimacing, she yanked it free and he groaned, flinging up his hands to divert her gaze. It didn't work either.
"Are these...?" she blinked, scrutinizing it. Upside down or right side up, the page made utterly no sense. She smiled politely and Sheen, again, hung his head. He must have been a dog in a past life, because he reminded her of one.
"What are these?" she said, frowning. The paper smelled strongly of strawberry milkshake.
"Lyrics to your favorite song," Sheen muttered sheepishly. "I was going to serenade you."
"Aw, that's so sweet..." Libby said. And ear shattering.
"But..." He glanced sadly at the remnants of the boom box and the paper in her hand. Despondent, he stared at the waking denizens of Libby's street and avoided her eyes.
The phone rang in her house and she jumped, startled. That was probably Cindy asking where she was. She pecked Sheen on the cheek and smiled at him.
"I'll see you later, okay?"
With that, she bounded into the house to answer the phone before her parents wondered why she'd slipped out to deal with 'that crazy boy'. Sheen held his cheek in wonderment. Maybe there really was no use in crying over split milk.