Gack! Sorry for the delay, y'all. Was kinda stuck, but you know how that goes. I'll try to stay more on top of this! Thank you so much for your patience, and I hope this chapter will be worth the wait for you guys. c:
"Dez! Careful!" Trish shouts at the redhead. She had noticed the way Dez's eyes grew heavy, and the way his grip on the steering wheel had loosened.
"Hm?" Dez's eyes widen at the sound of her voice. "Sorry…I didn't get any sleep last night. And, well, it's been a lon ay-" he starts to yawn. It certainly had been quite an eventful day for him. He had pulled an all-nighter applying make-up to the fake head, then on Trish, then on himself, and watching tutorials online. Later, he had to prepare for the magic act, do the magic act, and finally – watch the three-hour-long Bollywood movie with Trish and Lucky. Dez is just about ready to crash. However, so will his car if he doesn't stay alert.
"Pull over," Trish orders him.
"But-"
"I said, PULL OVER, DEZ!" the daunting girl demands.
Dez grumbles unintelligibly, but does as Trish says - putting the car in park. "But how are we going to get home?"
"I'll drive, doofus," Trish gives him a sharp look as she unbuckles her seatbelt and opens the car door on her side. "Now get your butt over to the passenger seat!"
"Trish, you don't have a license," Dez mutters groggily, loud enough for her to hear.
" I have a permit – and I know how to drive. Better than you do, I might add," she states condescendingly. Hey, it is true after all, she thinks. She had considered telling Dez's parents about the previous incident involving a near-collision with another car, in order to convince them to revoke his driving privileges. However, knowing that this would devastate Dez, she decided against it. Strange, considering how much she normally enjoyed causing him pain.
"Yeah but that's still not allow-" Dez starts, unbuckling himself and getting out from his side, as well.
"-I know," Trish cuts him off, once again. "But you driving right now is a lot more dangerous, Dez. I'll drive you home, then I'll get your mom or dad to drive me. Alright?" Trish walks over to the driver's side, then hops into the seat as Dez sits himself at the passenger side. She buckles up and starts adjusting the seat and mirrors. Dez lets out a little chuckle, watching her as she moves her seat closer to the steering wheel.
"What?" she cocks an eyebrow at him. Did she miss something?
"You're so small," he smiles, adjusting his chair so that he could lean back. "It's adorable." The bewildered look does not leave Trish's face, but she turns back to the road – deciding to ignore him.
Trish takes the car out of park, then starts towards Dez's place. He has just been full of strange compliments recently, hasn't he?, she ponders to herself. Trish isn't sure of whether or not calling her 'small' would be considered a compliment - but 'adorable'? She decides not to dwell on it much. She figures that perhaps she should just take the slightly-flattering remark.
A few minutes down the road, Trish decides to finally speak to her freckle-faced companion. "Hey, Dez…I just wanted to say thanks, y'know, for being there for me tonight and stuff. Even though I didn't really want you to..." She smirks, her eyes still focused on the road.
Silence.
After waiting a few moments without a response, she glances over at her friend. Dez had fallen into a deep slumber, his mouth hanging open slightly. He looked almost…Cute.
Almost.
She shakes off the thought. Cute like a kitten, or a baby. Not cute like…Ryan Gosling, or something, she reassures herself. She wonders why she even needed the reassurance in the first place.
"Get up, Dez! We're here!" Trish shakes her friend gently at the shoulder.
"Hm?" Dez's eyes open up slightly. "Oh, hey Trish." He sits up in his seat, stretching and yawning, then unbuckles himself. "Thanks for the ride home."
"Whatever, doof." Trish hands Dez the keys, then hops out of the car and starts heading towards the front door of Dez's house. She hears a thud behind her, and turns around to find Dez on the ground, moaning in pain. "Dez!" She rushes over to help him up. "What happened?"
"My legs fell asleep," he pouts, his legs wobbling a bit as he tries to stand up – supporting himself by putting an arm around Trish's shoulders. Trish sighs, then helps him to the door.
Using his free hand, Dez unlocks the door with his keys. Trish helps him over to the couch, where he collapses.
"So…If your parents are asleep, I could just walk home. It's not too far," Trish suggests. The house is quiet, so it's likely that everyone had already head off to bed.
Some muffled sounds of protest came from Dez, his face buried in the armrest of the sofa. He shakes his legs slightly, trying to get them to wake up. He turns on his side so that he could actually speak clearly to her. "Nuh-uh! Not again. What kind of person would let their friend walk home alone at this time of night?"
"Dez, you driving would be a lot more dangerous. I'll be fine!" Trish answers, annoyed at the lack of confidence he had in her. She can kick butt - he of all people should know that. Those self-defense classes she had taken a while back would come in handy in the event that anything does happen. Nothing she learned could help her deal with Dez's driving abilities, or lack thereof, however.
Dez attempts to get up, but falls, once again. He tries yet again - his legs slowly, but surely, losing their numbness. "Okay, we won't drive. I'll walk you."
"Then who's going to walk you home, whack-a-doodle?" Trish crosses her arms, giving him a sassy smirk. "You're about as tough as limp noodle. C'mon, I mean you lost an arm wrestling battle with Nelson last week!"
"Hey, that kid is stronger than he looks!" Dez protests. "Besides, people tend to stay away from me anyway. Not really sure why …" His voice trails off as he ponders.
"I think I might have a few ideas." Trish scoffs. Dez did have a habit of talking out loud to himself, and generally doing strange things. The sort of things that would make people steer clear of him. Unpredictability can be intimidating, after all.
He smiles softly at her, completely forgetting about the fact that she had just insulted him, "I'm sure I'll be fine. I appreciate your concern, though." He takes a brightly-colored coat off of the coat rack. "Put this on, it's kind of chilly out."
"I don't wanna wear your coat," Trish gives him a disgusted look.
"It's not mine, it's my mom's!" Dez holds out the coat to show her, "See – it's a woman's coat."
"Well, with you, I can never tell for sure," Trish shakes her head and takes the coat, then slips it on. Dez glares at her a little, but decides to keep his thoughts to himself. He holds open the door for her, and they head out towards Trish's house.
They spend much of the walk shooting snide comments at each other - teasing and some punches, courtesy of Trish. All good-natured, though. Their usual banter.
"So you said you needed help with trying out design tomorrow? Like graphic design, or…?" Trish asks. Dez wasn't very specific. It's a wonder that Trish actually agreed to help him out without knowing just what he was planning. Granted, even when she thought she knew what Dez wanted to do, he usually turned the tables on her anyway – like with the magic act.
"Today, actually. It's already midnight, so…" Dez states, then continues, "Fashion design."
Trish erupts into laughter, causing a few dogs to bark, as well as a man to shout at her from his bedroom window, telling her to shut up. "You – haha- you…Heh…You're not serious, are you?" she asks, struggling to form words between her snickers. Dez gives her a bit of a pout.
"See, this is why I need you!" Dez explains, "As much as I think that I have a fantastic sense of fashion…It may not be, uh…For everyone, I guess? I'd like to bounce some ideas off of you. Get some feedback on outfit designs, maybe? As loud and obnoxious as your clothing may be, you do read a lot of fashion magazines…"
"You should really be careful with your words Dez," Trish gives him a threatening smile. He turns away from her, wide-eyed – chills running up his spine. He knew that look very well. She had perfected that eerie smile to a tee.
"I…uh…Uhm…I mean-" Dez gathers his thoughts, trying to figure out a way to save himself from his verbal blunder. He turns around to face her, "I, I meant…Uh…Colorful and interesting!" Saying this out loud made him think. Those were usually the words he used to describe his own clothing. Perhaps their sense of fashion wasn't all too different, after all? Besides, he had taken a liking to Trish's signature animal print style after winning that $1000 gift card for The Animal Print Emporium.
"Ahaan, that's what I thought," Trish punches him on the arm for good measure.
"Ow! Hey!" Dez squeaks out in pain while rubbing his arm. "Okay, I guess I deserved that." Trish tightens her lips and nods, in agreement.
"Oh, wait!" Trish smacks her forehead with the palm of her hand. "I just remembered - I have to work tomorrow at Shredder's."
Dez raises a brow in confusion, "I thought they fired you from there."
"I thought so too, but apparently Hazel 'sees potential in me'" Trish states, using air quotes. "She wants me to throw a birthday party for this little girl."
"Oh, well, hey! Maybe I can come with? I can help you out with the party-planning, and you can help me out with the designs? Besides, I love kids!" Dez exclaims, cheerfully. Another angry resident on the street shouts out from their bedroom window, demanding that they be quiet. Dez jumps slightly at this, and dials down his tone. "So…Whaddaya say?"
Trish quirks her lips to the side, looking away as she thinks it over. She turns back to him, "Fine, but you'll be doing most of the work."
Dez ponders for a moment, then smiles and holds out his hand, "Deal!"
Trish rolls her eyes, and continues walking, leaving him hanging. Dez retracts his extended hand, then stuffs both of his hands into his pockets and follows behind Trish.
They soon make it to the De La Rosa residence. Trish pulls out a key from under the welcome mat and unlocks the door quietly. She pauses, realizing that she has still got Donna's jacket on.
"Here," Trish slips off the coat and hands it over to Dez. "See ya, bozo. Make sure you're there at 10 AM sharp."
Dez nods, taking the jacket. "Sure thing, curly," he winks at her. Trish shoots him an annoyed glare.
"Nicknames are my part of this friendship, you doof," she loses the glare and chuckles a little. "Besides, that's not exactly a mean nickname. You should work on that."
"It wasn't supposed to be," Dez shrugs. "I just like your curly hair." Trish is slightly taken aback by this.
"Okay, what's up with all the compliments lately – you feelin' okay, freckles?" her voice holds genuine concern. She wanted to just shove the thoughts away, but they had been burning at the back of her mind - and she wanted answers. "Cause if this is some kinda joke, I'll have you know tha-"
She's cut off mid-sentence by Dez leaning down and planting a light kiss on her forehead. "Goodnight, Trish." He slings his mom's jacket over his shoulder, and starts walking away backwards, giving her a two-finger salute. He then turns around and heads on home.
Trish's mouth hangs open slightly, at a loss of words. After a few moments of gawking, she closes her mouth and shakes her head. "He's up to something," she mutters quietly to herself. She then proceeds into her house, and up to her room.
Surprisingly enough, Trish doesn't bother wiping the Dez germs off of her forehead.
I was in dire need of fluff-writing. So not sorry. :P
This was mostly a filler chapter, but I hope you all enjoyed it all the same!
Special thanks to SakuraSpark, WinterFairy7337, trezkabobisay, CatchTheRainbow, Fizzy Starburst, and ApostolicPrincessinGod for the reviews! Love ya guys! ;D
-AJ