Author's Note: So here's a little humor fic, to prepare you against the angst to come. I have two hospital oneshots coming up. One is already written; unfortunately the second part, so there might be a bit of a wait.
(and a cookie to those who get the "Boy Meets World" nod)
Juliet had just settled into her seat when the unfamiliar voice began lecturing on Edgar Allan Poe. Her brow scrunched up in confusion and she looked up to see an older man who was definitely not Mr. C standing at the head of the class.
He went on to say more about Poe, and then finally remarked that he was filling in for Mr. Carpenter for the day—which Juliet had already deduced. She scowled a little. This substitute was giving the lesson all wrong—his voice was monotone, he didn't inflect his words, and he didn't smile at all when something amusing arose in the course of the lecture.
Juliet sighed, slouching in her seat and waiting for the hour to end. So that she could get to the bottom of Carpenter's absence, of course, among other things.
After the bell rang, she rose from her seat and stepped up to Carpenter's desk—C's desk, not this guy's—in which the fellow had already appeared to have made himself right at home. Her nostrils flared minutely at his audacity to look so comfortable where he didn't belong.
"Excuse me," she began, as politely as she could muster, "do you know why Mr. Carpenter wasn't able to make it in?"
Mr. Feeny shook his bearded face, returning her politeness, but any true concern escaped him. "I do not. Though from the sound of him, I gathered he was feeling under the weather."
Juliet's brow knit a little with worry and she nodded quickly. "Thanks," she replied dismissively, hurrying out. A part of her acknowledged that she had failed to pay attention to any morsel of the sub's lecture, and so the assignment was therefore lamentably lost on her.
That would have to be remedied as well.
By the time lunch hour had arrived, Juliet had a plan. Carpenter would probably give her one of his looks, were he there, but he wasn't, so she didn't think twice.
"Miss Lasky?" Juliet began to the secretary, who remained the office's singular guardian at this hour.
The woman looked up. "Yes, Miss Martin?"
Juliet feigned a mighty cringe. "Some of the students were talking about lighting off fireworks in the lunch quad, and I couldn't find Mr. Johnson to tell him, so…" she trailed off ominously, and Lasky was already having a meltdown.
The woman leapt from her chair and hurried past her. "Oh for goodness sake…" she cried, bolting out of the office a moment later.
Juliet was satisfied, if a little guilty. No doubt the work of her English teacher's influence. Wasting no more time regretting her deceit, she rushed over to the filing cabinets, flipping quickly through until she reached the instructors' section.
She knocked on the door for the fifth time, some of her impatience leaking through and revealing it in the tempo of her pounding.
She juggled the items in her arms precariously, huffing out a sigh as she waited.
It was two whole minutes later before she heard the latch slide free and the door finally opened.
She arranged her features into a bright smile when Carpenter appeared beyond the threshold, looking confused and definitely in less than stellar health. He wore jeans and an old t-shirt, his hair was mussed, and there were dark circles under his eyes.
"Juliet?" he uttered, voice hoarse and gravelly.
"Hi," she replied.
His brow drew together and he continued to stare at her blankly. "What… are you doing here?"
She held up her items, affecting all the cheerfulness she could. "I brought you soup. And some other stuff."
He blinked, as though he expected her to disappear if he looked away for too long. "Other stuff?"
"Yeah. Can I come in?"
He opened his mouth to reply, still flummoxed, and she felt a twinge of remorse because he really did look bad. His jaw was rough, like he hadn't shaved in awhile, and she noticed now just how pasty he was. "Uh… what else…" his gaze dropped to the items she held tightly in her arms, reaching out a hand reflexively to help her with them before he let it fall back down.
"Well," she began, "I have the soup and this Edgar Allan Poe stuff, and this weird drink that the lady at the gas station said was supposed to help with headaches, or sinus, or something. And flu meds." She was already brushing past him into the house; he must have stepped aside to allow her entry in his dazed state. "And by the way—your sub? Is a complete tool. I didn't understand anything he said, so I figured I'd drop by, feed you soup and drugs, and then you could help me with this assignment. They say the best cure for sickness is to stay active and alert, right?" He had trailed her into his house as she went on, watching as she unloaded her arms onto the small island counter in his kitchen and began separating the items. "Where are your pots and pans?"
Carpenter pointed lamely. "Uh, under the stove."
Juliet nodded and quickly began cooking up the soup.
Carpenter stood aimlessly in the entrance of the room, wandering over to the counter finally to peruse what all she had brought him. He was just getting to the NyQuil and DayQuil—which he was actually out of—when she turned around. "Do you want anything to drink, or just that juice stuff?"
He eyed the drink she'd brought in question, wary of the soy label. "Just the soup for now, I guess." He met her eyes, curiosity and a little bit of dread filling his gaze. "How'd you know where I live?"
Juliet had the decency to blush. She ducked her head guiltily and bit her lip before raising her eyes to meet his with a glimmer of hopeful remorse. "I looked in the school files."
Carpenter sighed. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, annoyed with the way his afflicted body perked at the smell that was wafting from the stove.
"So," Juliet began, slipping over to the counter and holding up one of her English books. "Edgar Allan Poe?"
He stared into her dark, hopeful eyes, rounded almost pleadingly at him. Her teeth appeared in a tentative smile and he sighed again.
Then, the edges of his mouth quirked helplessly, and he nodded at the table in the corner. "Alright," he muttered. "Let's start with The Tell-Tale Heart."
He laughed despite himself at the way her gaze lit up and she suddenly dug a carton of ice cream out of another bag. "Rocky Road—not just for menstruating women, you know."
His mouth watered involuntarily and he nodded. "Good call."
