pairings: Tad/Pinky, mentioned Derby/Bif
"Oh, shoot. Tad? Darling, could you get my purse upstairs pretty please?"
It's the way he smiles. The way he never seems to mind catering to her every whim.
"Ah, thanks. But, uhm, sweetie? I left my jacket upstairs, too…"
It's the way he always says "Of course, princess," instead of rolling his eyes and passing the task on to someone else.
And he always says it with that adorable smile of his.
"I think that's all. Thank you, honey!"
It's the way he always interlaces their fingers whenever they walk side by side. The way he isn't embarrassed to be seen near her when she, admittedly, flips her shit on pointless matters. It's the way he stares coldly at those who dare stare at her—whether in envy, hate, or desire—and the way he can make others back off without threatening to unleash a hailstorm of rotten eggs on their heads (usually).
"Let's go to the carnival!"
It's the way he puts her needs above his. The way he'll go along with whatever she says even if it isn't ideal for him. When he buys their admission tickets and immediately approaches the first game he sees—she wants a prize and he needs 30 tickets to get her that giraffe—he doesn't mention how he has a report due the next day and a test worth twenty percent of his grade first thing in the morning. He hasn't prepared for either and he knows that when his father learns of his unsatisfactory scores, then he'll surely be sent to the hospital with a broken nose, two black eyes, and an excuse of a clumsy fall. The doctors won't believe him—they never do—but he's so pathetic they won't push it.
He wins her that giraffe and a small bracelet with hearts. They go on all the rides and when they reach the top of the Ferris wheel, she kisses him.
It makes his future sufferings all worth it.
They stay late until they're pushing curfew. He buys her cotton candy on the way out and she surprisingly decides to share that with him. He's not fond of sweets—hence why he didn't buy one for himself—but as long as it's from her, who is he to decline?
By the time they actually leave the carnival, it's already midnight and the cops are on the lookout for wandering teenagers. He doesn't feel like returning to school right now and so they end up in her empty mansion in Bullworth Vale.
"Nobody's here," she tells him as she leads him inside. He thanks her politely and takes in the fine craftsmanship of the living room. This is only one of her many mansions and apparently, her doting father bought it in case she didn't like the dorms in Bullworth.
"It's pretty much where I send all my old clothes," she adds, grabbing his hand and leading him upstairs.
When she wakes up the next day, fully clothed, she's nice and toasty. Mainly thanks to the warm body of the sweetest guy she's ever met holding her close from behind. She feels safe. She feels like she belongs.
It's weird, really. She can't remember a time when she stopped and said, "Tad Spencer is the one for me."
Before, it was always about Derby Harrington, her snobbish yet insanely attractive cousin. Derby with the perfect hair and dazzling smile; Derby with the overwhelming riches and unbridled power. Derby who was flawless and the model child.
That Derby.
She's always believed she would end up with him. It's only logical; a perfect woman deserves a perfect man. And besides, aren't they officially engaged? To keep up tradition?
It doesn't take much for her to realize Derby physically—on top of mentally—can't ever be her husband.
(Two missed dates, four tardies, and one affair later, to be exact. It seems a lot but to her, it really isn't. Plus, everything happened within a month or so.)
Pinky likes Tad because Tad pays attention to her.
She likes Tad because Tad actually cares about her.
She likes Tad because Tad isn't secretly in love with Bif Taylor and desperate to keep whatever happens between them in Glass Jaw or their rooms a secret.
Derby is too much like her. That's exactly why their relationship doesn't work.
Pinky needs a Tad to do her bidding; Derby needs a Bif for the same reason.
A Derby won't do as a Pinky tells him to because he believes himself to be above that. And a Pinky sure as hell won't even consider attempting what a Derby demands because princesses don't lift a finger for anything.
"He's such a pushover," Christy Martin remarks one day, when she catches the two preps holding hands coming out of Harrington House. Pinky rolls her eyes and tells Christy to shut her trap.
"Besides," the self-proclaimed 'princess' adds loftily with a secret wink, "he's my pushover."
A/N: Disclaimer: don't own the majestic game called Bully, probably never will. Go Rockstar.