Doppelbangers
A thin man with a stone face and a stethoscope around his neck came into the club from the rain. While taking measured steps, he tapped his polished Bostonians on the carpet advertising THE MELON PATCH, furled his umbrella without spraying any patrons or dancers, and pulled his glasses from his breast pocket to place over his sleepless eyes.
Though he had paid good money for this particular pair of glasses, they fogged up around the edges. Despite the visual impairment, the thin man continued walking until he reached a rowdy table with a short-haired woman and a brown dude with a frizzy mane.
"¡Salud! El sex doctor! ¡Cuánto tiempo! ¡Tanto tiempo sin verte!" The dude staggered to his feet. He wore a white shirt that was transparent from the rain, and it showed off a disturbing volume of short and curly hair that trailed thickly all the way down. Yeah, all the way down.
"Don't call me that, Fabian," the thin man said, rather heatedly. "You know what I had to do this afternoon? I might just take you up on your challenge, and I assure you, I can put up more of a fight than a toaster."
"I BATTLE ROBOTS!" was what Dr. John Stangel could make out from a liberal sprinkling of American and Spanish slurs.
The short haired woman spoke up, or rather, spat up. She raised an empty bottle of Coca Cola to her mouth and hocked a brown loogie into it, messily. It streaked her plaid sleeve where she rubbed at her chapped lips. She rapped on the table a couple times and shouted "Hey Candy!"
Candy was a hot bod with a plain Jane face, but she was a favorite of Fabian because of her long, blond hair and her refusal to give him her number. Tonight, Candy carried her special prop, a plastic, rainbow lollipop.
Fabian dropped his broken English in favor of ogling the way Candy's booty bounced when she tapped the rainbow end of the lollipop on her hip.
"How's it going, Yobin? Wanna check out my cavities?" Candy jiggled her boobs, indicating Cavity #1, licked her teeth, and smiled down at the short-haired woman.
(Yobin had a theory about Candy being a struggling writer trying to get published. "Girl tries so hard; I like that.")
"Nah, I'm good. Mi amigo here, though, he's a regular Sour Patch kid today." Yobin crammed some bills into Fabian's limp hand, and rubbed her hand off on her jeans because Fabian liked to oil himself before his matches.
Candy eyeballed the many corners of at least two twenties, grabbed Fabian's hand, and led him to a table screened partly by a potted plant.
John personally felt bad now because while Fabian was hot-blooded, the Mexican wrestler deserved respect for pursuing his dreams and not being afraid to do so. Fabian didn't need John to make him feel like crap.
In an uncommon display of seriousness, Yobin spat the rest of her chewing tobacco into the Coca Cola bottle and capped it. "Que pasa, amigo?"
"Eh, same old, same old. Crushing people's hopes and dreams." John finally sat down and accepted the drink Yobin slid to him, downing it at one go.
"Uh huh," Yobin said, rolling her eyes. "What's really chewing your balls today, Dr. Doom? Don't front, you ran from the hospital in a hurry, couldn't wait to take off your stealth thingy."
John grabbed at the instrument hanging around his neck, felt the dry rubber and the cold metal. In a moment, he took his glasses off and pinched his nose.
"I saw Yasmine today..." In his mind's eye, the redheaded temptress winked at John and puckered her glossy lips around a cigarette she was dying to light, with the tip of her pink tongue rolling around the blunt. Fiery, smokey-eyed Yasmine. There was a time when he had drank her in and she had burned him up.
"Dawg, why did you look up that skank?" Yobin swore. "You two killed the club for us; we had to find a new hang-out. Took me weeks to break the ice wit all the ladies, again."
"I didn't go back to that godforsaken hole," John adamantly denied, causing Yobin to spit her drink on the floor.
"You mean her godforsaken-" Yobin was laughing her ass off.
"I DIDN'T, in all contexts, seek out my ex. It was a normal day on the job, mostly healthy cases and only two couples to whom I broke bad news. Towards the end of the day, there was this patient who could've been a dead ringer for Yasmine."
"You mean the hair and the..." Yobin gestured around her chest.
"Yes, excluding her distinct accent."
"And the Clap."
"I implore you, allow me to finish this."
Yobin sighed and knocked back her shot wordlessly.
"Anyway, she looked exactly like Yasmine and she was controlling like Yasmine, making some outlandish requests that delayed a simple examination. It was like seeing the Yasmine I wanted to marry and have kids with. She's been to my practice twice already, and her husband apologized to me and set up a third appointment for tomorrow to inspect her cervix. I'm not up to it."
Before Yobin could point out how many chicks and dudes John had probed since his residency, John was grabbed by his shoulders. His assailant held him in placed and kissed his mouth.
Frozen in revulsion from having his personal space horribly invaded, John did not step in to spare Yobin the horror.
"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyy yyy!" Kristoff leered at his friends, who were wiping their mouths and quickly downing their drinks.
"Creep, wash that moustache! It's fishy!"
"Oh Yobin, Yobin, Yobin. Liberated, but slow, yes. I do not partake of fish this day. Last night however, I dine on more sensual-"
The irony of Yobin, out of everyone in their little motley crew, being disgusted from Kristoff's revelation was not lost on John, but he was too busy slapping his cheek to rid himself of the sensation of whiskers tickling his cheek and catching in his own groomed beard.
A/N: I don't own HIMYM. Written in response to Shining Sunny's challenge to write all of the doppelgangers interacting. I got 80% of them, that's passing in the States. :p
P.S: If anyone wants to fill my prompt: "Lily" made up that lie about the art fellowship. That night that she took the Fiero all the way out was because Wesley (posing as Sandy Rivers) contacts her about a Lost Slayer or end of the world-type issue on the West Coast. So Willow drops her domestic life for a night to help research a solution. She thinks it's all taken care of and resumes her normal life as "Lily." However, when she hears that voice mail about the "internship" with Marshall, Willow knows it's over. She's being dragged back into the world of the greater good and the powers that be . It's surprisingly easy to leave her peaceful life in New York. Everyone thinks she's in San Francisco; nowhere near Sunnydale. Except for a man in a dapper suit.
