Munching on a slice of pizza as she pencilled into her notebook detailed descriptions for Model United Nations' coming debate, Daria felt the ringing of the phone was a welcome distraction. Jane *had* said she'd call around six. Scooping up the reciever, Daria said through a mouthful of bread, cheese and pepperoni,
"Hello, Morgendorffers'. If you're the undertaker, leave her body by the door - your money's in the mailbox."
She waited for Jane to snort and give her own reply, or at least a stunned silence from anyone else at which she could have a good snicker over. Instead, a very familar chuckle sounded. Nearly choking on her pizza, Daria found herself sitting more upright.
"Undertaker, huh,"
The voice mused.
"Trent?"
"What if I hadn't been?"
"Sorry... I was so sure it was Jane."
"Well, it is, sort of. Janey's got her hands full, so I'm calling for her. She wants you over for dinner and a movie."
"What is for dinner?"
"Uh... some sort of pasta. I don't really know."
"You're *making* it?"
"Well, that's the thing. It might help if you come a bit quicker, Daria - she's not... the best at cooking."
Daria thought she heard a muffled shout at the other end that sounded an awful lot like Jane.
"Uhm, been nice talking to you, come on over,"
He said hurriedly, and the call ended with an abrupt click.
She was picking up her overcoat when the phone rang again. Rolling her eyes, Daria reached over and picked up.
"Is it Jane this time?"
She asked.
"Actually, no."
Said yet another masculine and familiar voice,
"It's Tom."
Daria's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't called since they had broken up.
"T-Tom?"
She mentally slapped herself for stuttering. Why was she stuttering? Then again, she *had* spent the past week sinking into depression since their last conversation outside her home...
"Yeah."
There was a pause, and Daria got the impression Tom was feeling just as strangely awkward as she was feeling. She didn't know why they felt awkward... perhaps because their last phone conversation had been about a date. A cancelled date.
Hadn't they promised to keep in contact? How were they going to go through contact if it was going to be like this? Their last meeting hadn't been awkward at all. Perhaps it was the lack of contact inbetween...
"Uhh, you called for a reason?"
She prompted.
"Oh, yeah. Uh... Daria, I'm sorry. I don't feel... very prepared? I guess I'll call tomorrow."
"It's not important?"
Daria asked, failing to keep the tone of hope out of her voice. Just in case it was. Just in case he had something to tell her, so they could keep the conversation going.
"Uhh... it can... wait."
"Well... I'm going to Jane's for dinner. I guess we couldn't've talked anyways."
Daria said lamely, and wondered why she was making excuses.
"Yeah... talk to you tomorrow."
Tom said, his voice equally as unsure. There was a pause. Daria didn't hang up, wanting to hear Tom hang up first, but was met with a silence.
What was happening? It sounded as if Tom wanted to say something important... Probably, something about their relationship. Something that might change their current, slightly unstable friendship status.
'It's not going to work out,'
Daria thought, her brows creasing,
'He knows that. I know he knows that... But then again, he was pretty reluctant when we broke up. I mean, even *I* didn't *really* want to break up... But we had no choice. Does he want me to tell him? Perhaps I should tell him right now, before things get out of hand. Before...'
Tom's hesitant voice broke into her train of thoughts, startling her.
"Daria?"
Biting her lip, Daria slammed the reciever down.
Daria shook her head, remembering that time. That was when her emotions had been a true cocktail of confusion. She wondered briefly where Tom was, and knew she had to call him later and tell him about... Trent.
As the rest of the day played out in Daria's mind, she was reminded of something that had only confused her further.
Daria stood before the Lane's front door, arching an eyebrow at the chaos she could hear reigning inside. She had rung the doorbell, but obviously, no one had heard. But she had no problem hearing them.
"Just KILL the damn THING, Trent!!"
"I'm trying. It keeps moving. It's difficult--"
There was a crash, and Jane could be heard yelping. The noises sounded a little closer to Daria.
"If you can't do it, give the newspaper to ME."
"Hang on, Janey, I've got it. I've got it. I've--"
There was a loud *thwack*, but it sounded strangely muffled. Daria discovered the door was unlocked, and took the liberty to let herself in. They weren't in the living room, so she padded towards the kitchen quietly.
"TRENT!!! Look at what you did!!"
"Uhh, no problemo, if we clear it up quick, the sauce won't stain..."
"I don't think that's the problem. What the hell are we gonna feed Daria now? Spaghetti-served-with-half-the-tomato-sauce-it's-meant-to-have, a la squashed roach?"
Daria's expression was highly amused as she paused just before the kitchen opening. She couldn't see what was going on inside, though, and she heard Trent laugh before coughing. Another *thwack* sounded, but it was rather loud this time.
"...Ow."
"It was MEANT to hurt. We gotta clear this up before she comes! She'll be coming any minute now."
Daria debated with herself whether to go in or not, and decided with a bit of smirk that not entering would be too much of a waste. She casually walked into the kitchen with a nonchalant expression, and surveyed the scene with interest.
The table had been set, but was currently in a disarray of cutlery and napkins. The center held a steaming dish of spaghetti, but smack bang in the middle lay a twitching cockroach half the size of Daria's hand. Bits of mushrooms, carrots and parmesan cheese with large dollops of tomato-sauce splattered the table-top and some of the floor, and the spaghetti looked anything but appetizing.
Jane had on a yellow apron over her usual red-and-black attire, but it was spattered with splotches of the thick red sauce. Her face wasn't much better off, and her cerulean eyes widened amidst flecks of the sauce, hands covered in thick oven-mitts reaching over in an attempt to cover the mess. Trent was in the process of trying to look for a cloth to wipe up the mess, and wasn't aware of Daria's entrance.
She had to smile.
"So... I guess we won't be having spaghetti today?"
Jane's embarrassed and surprised expression promptly dropped into a scowl.
"...I hate you."
She said, her arms falling to her sides as she gave up attempting to block the view. Trent turned, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he held up a dishcloth. Daria could see tomato-sauce smudged on his shirt and his nose.
"Oh. Hi, Daria. When did you come in?"
"A while ago. I could hear you guys making up quite a cacophony as I waited for one of you to hear the doorbell. Luckily, the door was open, so I wasn't abandoned for too long."
Starting to wipe the table, Trent looked apologetically at Daria.
"Sorry about that. There was this bug --"
"You mean that huge cockroach bathing in the spaghetti now?"
Jane wrinkled her nose as she pulled the apron off herself.
"Thanks, Daria. I don't think I want to attempt another spaghetti fiasco now."
"That's okay. Neither do I."
"Then... what do we eat for dinner now?"
Trent asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Pizza?"
Daria suggested. Jane sighed.
"Damn it. I was getting sick of pizza."
"Let's drive out for dinner,"
Trent said, wiping up the mess from the floor as he spoke,
"We'll go to that new restaurant, or something. That Mexican one in the mall."
"Tacos?"
Jane looked like she was considering the suggestion, then nodded in approval.
"Tacos it is. Daria?"
"I don't mind."
There was a short pause before Jane raised an eyebrow in Trent's direction.
"You want me to pay for it, doncha."
"We're not getting paid 'till next Tuesday."
Trent replied. Jane sighed.
"I'll pay this time, but you buy all the pizza next week. Let me go get my money."
She turned to leave, but Trent suddenly removed his shirt in a smooth motion as he called out,
"Hang on, Janey - toss this into the laundry for me and get me a new shirt."
He had a vest on underneath, and Daria felt relieved. No matter who it was, Daria was just not used to seeing skin too close-up. Rolling her eyes, Jane took the offered shirt and draped it over the apron on her arm. As she started to leave the kitchen she said sarcastically,
"Yes, master Trent."
Before Daria could walk with her, Jane was gone. Trent set about to clear up the spaghetti, and Daria decided to help out rather than ditch him. He made a face as he tossed the roach and spaghetti into a plastic bag.
"Why on earth did you smack the bug while it was in the spaghetti?"
Daria asked as she watched him toss the tomato-sauce stained newspaper join the spoiled pasta. He shrugged.
"I don't know. Lack of common sense and the fact it was just sitting there, I guess."
As she stuck cutlery into the drawers, Daria noticed the tomato-sauce still smudged on Trent's nose.
"Hey. You've got tomato-sauce on your nose."
He blinked, and brought a thumb up to rub the wrong side of his nose.
"No, the other side."
He tried rubbing the other side, but he still couldn't get at it.
"No, a little higher..."
"Here?"
"Not on the bridge of your nose, a little lower - no, more to the left... no, *your* left--"
She let out a groan of frustration as he confusedly rubbed at the tip of his nose with the back of his wrist.
"Huh? Where? Point it out to me."
Daria stepped over to him, and reached a hand up. Taking her thumb, she set it at the left of his nose, and in a swift motion swiped the smear of tomato-sauce off.
Then it happened.
Trent blinked, and his nose twitched. Then he gave a lop-sided grin as he said,
"Thanks."
Daria was stunned.
What was going on? She felt like she couldn't really speak, as though something weird was caught in her throat. She stood staring at Trent for a few seconds, her mouth open as confusion raced through her head. Then, the horrifying truth of her thoughts caught up to her.
*He had just looked unbearably CUTE.*
She hurriedly turned away, mumbling something like 'you're welcome' as she grabbed at the napkins on the table. A hot flush filled her cheeks, and blushing furiously, Daria tried to think of totally unrelated thoughts. The memory of the roach helped, and she was soon calm enough to throw the sauce-stained napkins into the plastic bag an oblivious Trent held out without blushing.
Where did that come from? I mean, the hell, Daria, she told herself annoyedly, you're still confused and stressed over Tom. You're not completely over him yet. Why the hell are you thinking about how cute Trent is?! You're supposed to be *way* over *him*...
She spent the evening, however, avoiding looking at Trent and talked to Jane incessantly over their tacos.
[[A/N: Let's see here, now. What do we have here? Is it another typical Tom/Trent/Daria triangle thing? Will it contain corny cliched scenes of hospital beds and confessions of love? Will Daria have to make a choice between Tom and Trent? Will this have Tom or Trent acting totally out of character and become either Mr. Wonderful and Right or Bigass Jerks?
Answer those questions yourself based on the writing so far and that fact that I DO NOT HATE TOM, and also, I DO NOT HATE TRENT. I'm only setting the scene here...
By the way, for *anyone* wondering... no, this doesn't join from ol' 'Distracted'. This goes into more 'development'.]]
"Hello, Morgendorffers'. If you're the undertaker, leave her body by the door - your money's in the mailbox."
She waited for Jane to snort and give her own reply, or at least a stunned silence from anyone else at which she could have a good snicker over. Instead, a very familar chuckle sounded. Nearly choking on her pizza, Daria found herself sitting more upright.
"Undertaker, huh,"
The voice mused.
"Trent?"
"What if I hadn't been?"
"Sorry... I was so sure it was Jane."
"Well, it is, sort of. Janey's got her hands full, so I'm calling for her. She wants you over for dinner and a movie."
"What is for dinner?"
"Uh... some sort of pasta. I don't really know."
"You're *making* it?"
"Well, that's the thing. It might help if you come a bit quicker, Daria - she's not... the best at cooking."
Daria thought she heard a muffled shout at the other end that sounded an awful lot like Jane.
"Uhm, been nice talking to you, come on over,"
He said hurriedly, and the call ended with an abrupt click.
She was picking up her overcoat when the phone rang again. Rolling her eyes, Daria reached over and picked up.
"Is it Jane this time?"
She asked.
"Actually, no."
Said yet another masculine and familiar voice,
"It's Tom."
Daria's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't called since they had broken up.
"T-Tom?"
She mentally slapped herself for stuttering. Why was she stuttering? Then again, she *had* spent the past week sinking into depression since their last conversation outside her home...
"Yeah."
There was a pause, and Daria got the impression Tom was feeling just as strangely awkward as she was feeling. She didn't know why they felt awkward... perhaps because their last phone conversation had been about a date. A cancelled date.
Hadn't they promised to keep in contact? How were they going to go through contact if it was going to be like this? Their last meeting hadn't been awkward at all. Perhaps it was the lack of contact inbetween...
"Uhh, you called for a reason?"
She prompted.
"Oh, yeah. Uh... Daria, I'm sorry. I don't feel... very prepared? I guess I'll call tomorrow."
"It's not important?"
Daria asked, failing to keep the tone of hope out of her voice. Just in case it was. Just in case he had something to tell her, so they could keep the conversation going.
"Uhh... it can... wait."
"Well... I'm going to Jane's for dinner. I guess we couldn't've talked anyways."
Daria said lamely, and wondered why she was making excuses.
"Yeah... talk to you tomorrow."
Tom said, his voice equally as unsure. There was a pause. Daria didn't hang up, wanting to hear Tom hang up first, but was met with a silence.
What was happening? It sounded as if Tom wanted to say something important... Probably, something about their relationship. Something that might change their current, slightly unstable friendship status.
'It's not going to work out,'
Daria thought, her brows creasing,
'He knows that. I know he knows that... But then again, he was pretty reluctant when we broke up. I mean, even *I* didn't *really* want to break up... But we had no choice. Does he want me to tell him? Perhaps I should tell him right now, before things get out of hand. Before...'
Tom's hesitant voice broke into her train of thoughts, startling her.
"Daria?"
Biting her lip, Daria slammed the reciever down.
Daria shook her head, remembering that time. That was when her emotions had been a true cocktail of confusion. She wondered briefly where Tom was, and knew she had to call him later and tell him about... Trent.
As the rest of the day played out in Daria's mind, she was reminded of something that had only confused her further.
Daria stood before the Lane's front door, arching an eyebrow at the chaos she could hear reigning inside. She had rung the doorbell, but obviously, no one had heard. But she had no problem hearing them.
"Just KILL the damn THING, Trent!!"
"I'm trying. It keeps moving. It's difficult--"
There was a crash, and Jane could be heard yelping. The noises sounded a little closer to Daria.
"If you can't do it, give the newspaper to ME."
"Hang on, Janey, I've got it. I've got it. I've--"
There was a loud *thwack*, but it sounded strangely muffled. Daria discovered the door was unlocked, and took the liberty to let herself in. They weren't in the living room, so she padded towards the kitchen quietly.
"TRENT!!! Look at what you did!!"
"Uhh, no problemo, if we clear it up quick, the sauce won't stain..."
"I don't think that's the problem. What the hell are we gonna feed Daria now? Spaghetti-served-with-half-the-tomato-sauce-it's-meant-to-have, a la squashed roach?"
Daria's expression was highly amused as she paused just before the kitchen opening. She couldn't see what was going on inside, though, and she heard Trent laugh before coughing. Another *thwack* sounded, but it was rather loud this time.
"...Ow."
"It was MEANT to hurt. We gotta clear this up before she comes! She'll be coming any minute now."
Daria debated with herself whether to go in or not, and decided with a bit of smirk that not entering would be too much of a waste. She casually walked into the kitchen with a nonchalant expression, and surveyed the scene with interest.
The table had been set, but was currently in a disarray of cutlery and napkins. The center held a steaming dish of spaghetti, but smack bang in the middle lay a twitching cockroach half the size of Daria's hand. Bits of mushrooms, carrots and parmesan cheese with large dollops of tomato-sauce splattered the table-top and some of the floor, and the spaghetti looked anything but appetizing.
Jane had on a yellow apron over her usual red-and-black attire, but it was spattered with splotches of the thick red sauce. Her face wasn't much better off, and her cerulean eyes widened amidst flecks of the sauce, hands covered in thick oven-mitts reaching over in an attempt to cover the mess. Trent was in the process of trying to look for a cloth to wipe up the mess, and wasn't aware of Daria's entrance.
She had to smile.
"So... I guess we won't be having spaghetti today?"
Jane's embarrassed and surprised expression promptly dropped into a scowl.
"...I hate you."
She said, her arms falling to her sides as she gave up attempting to block the view. Trent turned, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he held up a dishcloth. Daria could see tomato-sauce smudged on his shirt and his nose.
"Oh. Hi, Daria. When did you come in?"
"A while ago. I could hear you guys making up quite a cacophony as I waited for one of you to hear the doorbell. Luckily, the door was open, so I wasn't abandoned for too long."
Starting to wipe the table, Trent looked apologetically at Daria.
"Sorry about that. There was this bug --"
"You mean that huge cockroach bathing in the spaghetti now?"
Jane wrinkled her nose as she pulled the apron off herself.
"Thanks, Daria. I don't think I want to attempt another spaghetti fiasco now."
"That's okay. Neither do I."
"Then... what do we eat for dinner now?"
Trent asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Pizza?"
Daria suggested. Jane sighed.
"Damn it. I was getting sick of pizza."
"Let's drive out for dinner,"
Trent said, wiping up the mess from the floor as he spoke,
"We'll go to that new restaurant, or something. That Mexican one in the mall."
"Tacos?"
Jane looked like she was considering the suggestion, then nodded in approval.
"Tacos it is. Daria?"
"I don't mind."
There was a short pause before Jane raised an eyebrow in Trent's direction.
"You want me to pay for it, doncha."
"We're not getting paid 'till next Tuesday."
Trent replied. Jane sighed.
"I'll pay this time, but you buy all the pizza next week. Let me go get my money."
She turned to leave, but Trent suddenly removed his shirt in a smooth motion as he called out,
"Hang on, Janey - toss this into the laundry for me and get me a new shirt."
He had a vest on underneath, and Daria felt relieved. No matter who it was, Daria was just not used to seeing skin too close-up. Rolling her eyes, Jane took the offered shirt and draped it over the apron on her arm. As she started to leave the kitchen she said sarcastically,
"Yes, master Trent."
Before Daria could walk with her, Jane was gone. Trent set about to clear up the spaghetti, and Daria decided to help out rather than ditch him. He made a face as he tossed the roach and spaghetti into a plastic bag.
"Why on earth did you smack the bug while it was in the spaghetti?"
Daria asked as she watched him toss the tomato-sauce stained newspaper join the spoiled pasta. He shrugged.
"I don't know. Lack of common sense and the fact it was just sitting there, I guess."
As she stuck cutlery into the drawers, Daria noticed the tomato-sauce still smudged on Trent's nose.
"Hey. You've got tomato-sauce on your nose."
He blinked, and brought a thumb up to rub the wrong side of his nose.
"No, the other side."
He tried rubbing the other side, but he still couldn't get at it.
"No, a little higher..."
"Here?"
"Not on the bridge of your nose, a little lower - no, more to the left... no, *your* left--"
She let out a groan of frustration as he confusedly rubbed at the tip of his nose with the back of his wrist.
"Huh? Where? Point it out to me."
Daria stepped over to him, and reached a hand up. Taking her thumb, she set it at the left of his nose, and in a swift motion swiped the smear of tomato-sauce off.
Then it happened.
Trent blinked, and his nose twitched. Then he gave a lop-sided grin as he said,
"Thanks."
Daria was stunned.
What was going on? She felt like she couldn't really speak, as though something weird was caught in her throat. She stood staring at Trent for a few seconds, her mouth open as confusion raced through her head. Then, the horrifying truth of her thoughts caught up to her.
*He had just looked unbearably CUTE.*
She hurriedly turned away, mumbling something like 'you're welcome' as she grabbed at the napkins on the table. A hot flush filled her cheeks, and blushing furiously, Daria tried to think of totally unrelated thoughts. The memory of the roach helped, and she was soon calm enough to throw the sauce-stained napkins into the plastic bag an oblivious Trent held out without blushing.
Where did that come from? I mean, the hell, Daria, she told herself annoyedly, you're still confused and stressed over Tom. You're not completely over him yet. Why the hell are you thinking about how cute Trent is?! You're supposed to be *way* over *him*...
She spent the evening, however, avoiding looking at Trent and talked to Jane incessantly over their tacos.
[[A/N: Let's see here, now. What do we have here? Is it another typical Tom/Trent/Daria triangle thing? Will it contain corny cliched scenes of hospital beds and confessions of love? Will Daria have to make a choice between Tom and Trent? Will this have Tom or Trent acting totally out of character and become either Mr. Wonderful and Right or Bigass Jerks?
Answer those questions yourself based on the writing so far and that fact that I DO NOT HATE TOM, and also, I DO NOT HATE TRENT. I'm only setting the scene here...
By the way, for *anyone* wondering... no, this doesn't join from ol' 'Distracted'. This goes into more 'development'.]]