disclaimer: disclaimed.
dedication: to Sid, for watching this show with me. rather, for letting me cuddle her while i watched this show and petting my hair.
notes: lmao fuck lars
notes2: i ship sadie/eduardo fight me

title: no good deed
summary: Because here's the thing: just because you love someone doesn't mean they're a good person. — Sadie, Lars.

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Sadie doesn't like The Beatles.

Maybe it's a blanket dislike, but whatever. Her mother named her after that stupid bit of song, and it gets stuck in her throat every so often—sexy Sadie, what have you done—so whatever, she doesn't have to like them. It's a rag on her name and Beach City is full of dirty hippies on a good day, so she hears it more than she would like.

So Sadie doesn't like The Beatles.

Which means that Lars is playing it blaring loud through the speakers at the Big Donut, because of course he is, because he knows that she hates it and that it'll make her do anything to get him to shut it off. And Sadie won't be able to get it out of her skull for the next three days. She'll catch herself humming it under her breath when she mops up another of one Steven's messes. She'll sing it softly as the sun goes down. She'll wake up with those stupid, stupid lyrics on her lips.

"Lars," she says, "please, turn it off."

"Aww, c'mon Sadie, it's about you!"

She freezes, and a flush crawls its way up her neck. It's an involuntary reaction; she can't help it, but she's liked him for so long, and she knows it's stupid, and she knows she deserves better, someone who'll look at her like she's something magical, something special, but Lars

But Lars is who Sadie likes. And Lars is who's standing in front of her in torn jeans, lips pulled back from his teeth, staring at her like she's killing all his fun.

And Sadie—Sadie can't.

"Just turn it down a little, okay?" she says, because, well, because.

He doesn't.

(Disappointment rears its ugly head.)

"Hey, Sadie," he says, and it feels like a long time later, even though it's probably really not that long at all. Sexy Sadie hangs in her mouth, and every words tastes like ash. She's breathless with hate.

"Yeah?"

"I'm taking off before Steven gets here to be annoying. You mind?"

And Sadie looks at him, really looks. All the lanky long lines of his body scream insolence, a lack of care that's imprinted itself on her eyelids, and she releases a soft shuddering sigh.

She should have expected this, maybe.

"Yeah," she says. "No problem."

"Cool," he says. "Seeya, Player Two."

And then he's gone. Just like that. The bell over the entranceway jingles merrily. Sadie stares at it, unseeing. There's something coming over her, pulling out with the tide, rising up like a wave. She doesn't have a name for it, yet. Because here's the thing: just because you love someone doesn't mean they're a good person. Because Lars doesn't care about her.

Lars doesn't care about anyone but Lars.

The fight's gone out of her, if it was ever there at all.

Sadie shakes it off, and walks the floor to flip the sign on the door to CLOSED.