Okaaay... I have an interest in all the various ways that we can get Daria and Trent together. This is my second story along this line, and it starts with a few different assumptions. This takes place after the girls have moved to Boston, and they are roomies. Problem is, things are turning out to be a lot tighter financially for Jane than they had anticipated. In this world, Daria and Trent haven't happened as a couple...yet.
Like some writers, I don't subscribe to the notion that Trent is an oblivious idiot. I don't think that it's unreasonable to think that Jane and Trent would share some things, like intelligence. I see him as a more complex and conflicted character, hiding elements of his persona for reasons of his own.
You'll find minor characters that I've created and inserted to move the story along, and they exist in this as well as in other fics I've been putting together. Likewise there are businesses and other entities that I've pulled out of my butt, as well as technologies and methods of my own invention. Feel free to correct my mistakes and assumptions, of which I am sure are legion. My understanding of music is my own, and real musicians and I have had many entertaining discussions about how wrong I am. In truth, I totally suck at actually playing, but unfortunately it doesn't keep me from trying.
Disclaimer: Daria and associated characters are owned by MTV. This is fan fiction written for fun and entertainment only. No money or other negotiable currency or goods have been exchanged.
Rated T for mild sexual references, situations and alcohol related lapses of judgment. Alcohol as a literary device is cooler than coincidence, I think.
Roomies
Chapter 1- Are You Gonna Eat That?
"What the hell is that?" Jane managed, staring at the mess in the sink.
"Ammunition for my pestilence trebuchet," deadpanned Daria.
"Seriously, what is it?" She pulled out her lunch bag and water bottle, setting them down on the far end of the counter.
"I'm not sure, but I'm pretty sure it's not a skunk. I ran it over with the car; I think it's an alpha squirrel."
"Are you cleaning it? As in getting ready to COOK it?"
"Since I killed a living thing, I'm morally obligated to eat it. Kind of an extension of the "if you put it on your plate you have to eat it" school of taking your kids to a buffet restaurant."
"So eating it absolves you of Karmic retribution?"
"Exactly."
"Aren't you afraid of cooties? I mean, real cooties?"
"Washed it in 200 proof grain alcohol from the Chemistry lab. That's the stuff that's in vodka, and it wasn't denatured so it's actually drinkable if you add water to it. Seems they use a lot of it for the organic chem classes. Left the interesting innards and thingies in a specimen jar filled with the rinse alcohol for the bio lab."
"Alrighty then. How are you planning to cook it?"
"I was thinking about taking it outside and touching a match to it. Then I'll come inside for a minute to wash my hands, and if I'm lucky the neighbor's dog will come and steal it. Then we can go out for a pizza, having gone through the motions and balancing my Karmic checkbook."
"Good idea, but we're too broke for pizza."
"Yeah, and besides I think there isn't enough alcohol left to burn. I was thinking about a stew or chili but then you caught me."
"What the hell, it's a life experience. We have black beans, and hot sauce in those cafeteria packets." Jane edged closer to the sink. "Looks like chicken anyway. Hey, where's the head?"
"I knew you would want the skull. I buried it in the back yard and put a big rock over it to keep digger dog frustrated. You can dig it up in a few months and then soak it in bleach."
"So much for my surprise Christmas present," Jane smirked.
"Can you hand me that knife? I guess I'll debone what I can."
"Sure," Jane laughed, handing over the knife, a flexible cutting board and a bowl. "I'll see if I can find recipes for varmit chili on the net. And don't throw the bones out before I get a chance to look at them."
"Stuff for an art project? Watch out for the PETA contingent at school."
"Where's the hide?"
"You're sick," Daria smirked. "In that ziplock bag, soaking in alcohol. I wasn't sure what to do with it, but I kind of knew you would ask."
"I think I read somewhere that an animal has enough brains to cure it's own hide, but since you already buried the head I'll have to figure something out."
"I think you'll do better to find something artificial to cure it with. I think the natural methods involve pee as well."
"Internet."
"Back yard or garage, missy."
"This is really good. Way better than ramen."
"We're so broke, we're dining on road kill," smiled Daria. "How pathetic is that?"
"It's a culinary adventure. Maybe you can write a book on urban survival skills for destitute students."
"Or I could tell my parents about this and horrify them, and they'll send money."
"I bet if I had come home later, you'd feed me this stuff and then tell me what it was afterwards."
"Of course."
"I'd do the same thing to you, but you cook way better than I do." Jane smiled, and then fell silent for a long moment. "Daria, I'm really sorry that I'm not bringing more money in. This is really unfair to you."
"It's not your fault that they had to cut your hours in the printmaking lab. We'll get through it; you'll probably sell another piece in the gallery this month."
"I put an application in with that little used bookstore and coffee place a few blocks away from BFAC. I managed to move my printlab schedule around to clear the lunch times on Tuesday and Thursday, so I can work their peak times then. It's only a few hours, but it'll help. Plus, they'll let me hang some of my work there."
"I had a talk with Trent this afternoon about my finances," Jane ventured. She watched carefully for Daria's reaction, but none came. She put a white paper bag on the table. "Have a slightly stale scone. There's a couple of Danish in there too, but we should save those for breakfast tomorrow."
"How's he doing?" she asked after a moment. It was a neutral statement; she could have been interested, or she might simply asking to be polite.
"Concerned. He doesn't want me to quit." She set a couple of plates down and pulled out some paper napkins from her bag.
"You'd do that?" Daria asked quietly.
"I could take a break and earn some money."
"It would be hard to get back on track." Daria fidgeted in her seat. She had it easy by comparison; her parents had saved money for her and along with her scholarships, she could afford to carry a bit more of the rent than she was obligated to. Still, money was tight. Did I make a mistake in talking Jane into this? Did I want to believe that she could do it when I found out that BFAC was near Raft, just so I would have her nearby?
"How would you feel if Trent stayed with us?" Jane said carefully.
"Here?" Daria froze. Trent?
"He's thinking about moving up to Boston, getting a job and helping me out with my expenses. He's considering quitting Mystik Spiral and checking out the music scene up here. Some guy in a music store in Lawndale knows some people here, and could set him up with a guitar teaching gig as well as store sales. Lawndale's market is too small to pay much, and all Trent's getting there are part time hours."
Daria was quiet for awhile. She wasn't sure what she thought of this idea; she had gotten over her crush a long time ago, but still…
Daria blinked as a cup of decent coffee was poured for her from Jane's thermos.
Jane put scones out on the plates. "Yeah, I'm not sure either. He could help or make things worse."
"Sounds like he's ready for a change himself." Just what sort of a change, exactly? Then again, planning and Trent wasn't something that she necessarily linked together in her mind. "Who knows, it might be good for both of you. It's not like the end of the world if it doesn't work out, but he's got to pay his own way. This household has to at least break even; we can't let it get any tighter."
Daria looked around the place. It was a small cottage, a converted carriage house, behind the larger main house. It had its own narrow driveway, screened by a line of trees, so Trent's heap of a car wouldn't be a problem. But there were only two bedrooms, and the tiny attached garage was unheated and uninsulated.
"Where would he stay?"
"Could you stand it if he camped out in the corner of the living room? I could make a privacy screen for him, and we could set some serious rules about walking around with pants on at all times."
"Awww. I could use the entertainment," Daria smirked.
"Eeew." Jane laughed. "Or maybe he could-"
"Don't even go there, Lane."
"What? I was going to say he could bunk in my room, if I could move my easel out here."
"Sharing a bedroom with your older brother? Sounds creepy to me."
"Privacy screen."
"The living room is fine. We can hang a blanket until you get a screen made. Let's see what happens." I'm over that stupid crush. Trent is a good friend, but that's all. Jane needs his support now, maybe more than ever. It'll be a little crowded around here, but so what? It's not like she or I bring guys home all the time.
"Janey," Trent asked quietly, "Are you sure Daria's okay with this? She seems a little uptight. Has she always holed up in her room like this?"
"She's sleeping," Jane yawned. "Tuesday and Thursday are her late days. She came in late last night; she had a study group meeting at the research library."
"Oh, I thought maybe she was out on a date or something." He stirred sugar into his coffee.
"She's gone out with a few guys, but nothing serious yet since that asshole Phillip."
"Huh." He kept stirring his coffee. "Who's Phillip?"
"This grad student she dated for awhile. She seemed to like him well enough, but not as much as he was into her. He wanted her to move in with him, and that was the end of that. She said that he was way too possessive, and it drove her nuts. It was kind of a messy breakup."
"I can see that. She's finally in her element, so there's guys around that can finally appreciate how cool she is." He stood up, finally noticing the cup of coffee. Guzzling it down, he walked the cup over to the sink and washed and rinsed it and the spoon, placing them in the drying rack. "Gotta go, Janey, I've got an interview in about an hour."
He picked up his phone, checked that he had the directions, and pulled on a black sweater.
Jane watched her brother walk to his car, finally noticing the clean, unperforated pair of jeans he had on. And it's not even 9:00 am…
Yawning, Daria stumbled into the kitchen to start the coffee. Hope we didn't run out of milk, she thought to herself. Reaching for the pitcher of filtered water, she flipped open the cover and was about to pour when Trent stopped her.
"Jeez, Trent, you scared the shit out of me!"
"Sorry, Daria, but the coffee's already made. Want some breakfast?"
"Um, sure. Sorry, finished my paper late last night." She turned and opened the fridge, looking for the milk. Wait, where did this food come from?
"Your coffee's on the table. I didn't put the milk in yet, I don't know how much you like."
"Thanks, Trent. Did you go shopping or something? How much did you spend?"
"Don't worry about it. Consider it an apology for invading your home." He set a plate down in front of her. "I'm not much of a cook, but the bacon came out fine. The pancakes look okay on the top but the bottoms…you don't have to eat them. Want some toast instead?"
He sat another plate down across the table from her. The bacon was nicely done, but his pancakes were what she would have considered ruined.
"These are just fine, Trent," she smiled, as she poured the milk into her coffee. "You didn't have to make breakfast."
"I don't want to be a freeloader. That's kind of the whole idea, I'm here to help, not be a problem."
"Don't take this the wrong way, Trent, but couldn't you have made more money to support Jane by staying in Lawndale? You didn't have to pay rent there, so any money you made above your own living expenses you could have sent to her."
"I thought about that, but staying there made it hard to get off my ass and put my shoulder to the wheel, so to speak. Too many excuses to slack off; the Spiral, old friends, not having to worry about paying rent. Makes it too easy to lay around in bed. Besides, not much demand there for a guy with only a high school diploma and no other job skills except knowing how to tune a guitar. Jamie over at Dega Street Musicworks helped me out with a job, but he's not really making that much money in that small town."
"I guess I can see that. I never thought you would quit Mystik Spiral. You had plans on making it in music."
"It was an excuse, not a plan. It let me tell myself that it was okay to hang around the house, convince myself that Mystik would make it if we just tried a little harder. But really, it was like trying to make a silk purse out of a sow's ear."
"You guys weren't that bad."
"Maybe you're right," Trent smiled. "It was more like trying to make a sow's ear out of a pig's ass." He began to crunch on a forkful of pancake carbonara.
Daria laughed. "Next time, you can do the bacon and make the batter, but let me cook the pancakes."
Trent smiled thoughtfully. "Thanks for letting me stay, Daria. I really missed the two of you."
For the first time in awhile, she blushed.
He pretended not to notice.
"Am I interrupting?" Jane yawned, pouring herself a cup of coffee. "Bacon?"
"Trent bought us food."
"Things are looking up. Better coffee, and now food not out of a dumpster."
"I thought you said the café let you take the stale stuff from the pastry case."
"Kidding. They do; I swing by the place at closing time and Jill lets me take what I want. She's been saving the mix of beans that collect around the roaster trays and letting me grind and take that home too. It's way better than that grocery store stuff, and it's free."
"Trent," Daria asked, "Where did you get the money for the food? I thought you started tomorrow at Ziggy's Music."
"That reminds me," Trent smiled. He pulled out an envelope and put it on the table. "Some of my music gear that I have on consignment sold, so here's some money towards the rent. About five hundred fifty. There would have been more, but I didn't want to hear about you two eating any more squirrels."