Title; Slender Fingers
Warnings; Language, dark themes, OOC, OCs, suicide attempts, abuse, death,
in parts a wet, topless Brennan... Yummy.....
Disclaimer; Sadly, I own nothing. I just like to play with Mutant X, and
promise to return them in good condition when I'm done...
Key; "Blah"-talking, 'Blah'-thinking, ~ ~-change of scene, * *-shift
between Brennan's present and his past.
* * * * * * * *
A/N : I would like to point out right here and now. Any and all romance anyone might see between Brennan and ANY of my OCs WHATSOEVER is all in your mind. It is Bren/Shal ALL THE WAY BABY!!!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
* * * * * * * *
Eighteen-year-old Brennan glared into his rum and coke. He was really too young to drink, but he could get into a lot of bars without an ID. He never really had anything stronger than this, and not much of it at that. The last thing he wanted to do was end up like his step-father; an abusive alcoholic. He didn't need a drinking problem zapping whatever spare cash he was able to scrounge at odd jobs or he had pick-pocketed.
Brennan's life was a simple one. He had a very small apartment, which he lived in for reduced rent because he was the handyman for the building. He had a good life, though money was often tight he was resolved not to go back to Jay, though he knew the man would welcome him and help him out. He had leeched off Jay for eight years, at least in his opinion. The man had been very kind to him, and he was grateful, but it was time to make it on his own.
He glared around the club. Time to get down to business. He was out of money. He had almost no food left and it was time to start working this club. It WAS why he was here after all. He had to pay his little expenses. This club was very crowded, with flashing globe lights. The music was too loud and very wild and the dance floor was packed. The flashing lights were annoying and the music was giving him a headache, but both would make his job easier.
He moved his way across the dance floor. He danced with some girls fleetingly, and bumped into people frequently. He was emptying the pockets of quite a few people along the way. Several times he was stopped by ladies with offers of phone numbers, or who swayed their hips and slurred words they thought were seductive. Really, there were times he cursed his good looks. While they made him look older and allowed him to get into bars like this one, they hindered his work sometimes.
Like NOW for instance.
He knew it was his own fault for picking a club as trashy as this one. The girls here seemed desperate for a good fuck with any half-way decent looking guy. And Brennan was certainly more than half-way decent.
An arm slipped around his waist and a girl in a skimpy baby-T fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Hey, baby, wanna dance?" The smell of booze was strong on her breath, and her words were slurred slightly. She wasn't trashed, but obviously drunk.
He looked her up and down. She wasn't immediately perceived as the type who would come here with the sole intention of getting laid. A dance probably wouldn't hurt. He bet she carried a money clip in those tight jeans of hers, but there was no way he was trying for it when the clothing was that tight. Not even HIS hands were THAT nimble-fingered.
Taking his momentary indecision for consent she pulled him closer. "You're pretty good for a rookie ya know," she giggled.
Brennan smirked at her. "Watchya talkin' 'bout, huh? Come on, tell me out right. Life's too short to beat around the bush."
"I've been watching you all night. And you're not bad; you must have been doing this for a while now."
"Still don't know what you're talking about," Brennan told her calmly, although he did. She had seen him pick-pocket of course. But he had to play these games with her. If she had caught his technique, then she was either a thief or a cop. Jay's teachings had not gone to waste and he was an excellent pick-pocket. If this girl had been simply checking him out, she would not have noticed his lifting the wallets. A thief or a cop might catch it though. And if she was the latter and she hadn't arrested him yet maybe he could pay her off.
"You've been lifting wallets you bad boy."
"Well? What're you gunna do about it, huh? Arrest me?"
"I'm not going to arrest you. If I had a pair of handcuffs I'd use them for something more fun than to ARREST you, big boy," she smirked. Brennan smirked back. "But seriously. You ARE good. I'm here to offer you a job."
A...job. Right. That made sense...
Ok, so it didn't.
"Huh?" was his brilliant reply.
"Huh?" she imitated. "A job, braniac. This might be a good thing for you. You do a good job and we might even hire you again. You'll get training, exshpiensh, cut of the profitsh... Everything a guy like you could want. Ish a good deal." Her words continued to slur together and she kept breaking off into giggles. Brennan wondered if his first opinion was wrong, maybe she WAS trashed. "Think 'bout it will ya?"
"I'll do that," he said non-comitally, with no intention of doing so. He liked his life. He was doing ok, and he didn't need some drunk who was probably just rambling to shake it up.
Anyway, he was happy with the load he had brought in; it would be enough to hold him for awhile. So he should probably go. He made a move to leave, but the blonde latched onto his wrist.
"Where you think you're going, huh?"
"Uh, home?" was Brennan's, once again, brilliant reply.
"Nuh-uh! You can't drive. You're drunk," she said determinedly. Brennan raised an eyebrow.
"A) I only had a glass of rum and coke, and am nowhere NEAR drunk, and B), I'm not driving."
"Don't kid a kidder!" she giggled. "You can't fool me. No way am I letting you drive!" And with that, she held up a pair of keys, on a very familiar key chain...
"Hey! Those are my keys!" he cried as he made a grab for them. 'How did she...Oh, right, a fellow pick-pocket. Dammit!'
"Come and get them, big boy." And on that note, she slipped them inside her impossibly tight shirt. Damn! His house key was on that key chain!
"Come on, give me back my keys!" he snapped. He wasn't willing to fish around in that tight baby-T for them, that was for sure. At eighteen, he wasn't a total stranger to woman, but as drunk as she was, it would border on taking advantage of her. He had to draw the line somewhere.
"Naw. I'm shaving your life. You'll thank me when you're shober!"
"I'm sober now! Give me my God damned keys! I'm telling you, I didn't drive here! I walked!" he growled out. His fists were clenching and unclenching, and he was really fighting not to slug or shock her one.
"Men alwaysh think that they're shober. Now the leasht you can do ish walk me home."
"The least I can do? What the Hell did you ever do for me?"
"I'm shaving your life you imbishil."
"Saving my life? You stole my keys! Give. Them. Back. NOW!"
"Nope!" she said cheerfully, sauntering off through the crowd. Brennan stared after her, mouth open. Then, recovering his senses, he scrambled after her.
And such was his first encounter with Karlie Ripamshan. [1]
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
[1] Ri. Pam. Shan. Ripamshan. ::wails:: I couldn't THINK of anything! Anyways, that's where it came from. Credit where credit is due.... This name is dedicated to Riley, Pam, and Shannon for bugging the Hell out of me to finish this fic. Hehe.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Rockergurl: Oh, good LORD was that short. Sorry everyone, it was totally out of my hands. Blame my beta! It was all her!
Kitta Cat: I can't believe you're blaming Shan!
Rockergurl: hehe, Sorry Shannon. I would have liked this to be longer though... Sorry again. And just because I'm SO nice, I'll get the next chapter out double time! I swear! Scout's honor!
Kitta Cat: That would be SO much more convincing if you had ever been a scout.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
REVIEW RESPONSES:
BLUE: Glad to know your opinion
EYECANDY: Most of the time when characters are OOC it's because that it works for the story, isn't it? @__@
EMMA0211: Shhh... Those are my little secrets, now aren't they?
ELEMENTAL-SPARKY: ::wink:: You really know how to flatter an author donchya?
NOBLE BLUE: People, Jesse is totally immature and we all know it. ::snickers:: Well, he is.
SOMEBODY: Yes, yes they are. ::snickers again::
PETITECAT: Yes, he is a naughty boy, isn't he?
QUEST: Here you go. You no longer have to wait.
PIANO-PLAYER: Oh, Jamie. You're my other half. You HAVE to say nice things about my fics. Rockergurl/Ashley/your other half
ITALIANCHIKE: Yes, fanfiction rules that way, ne?
MOTORALA: I'm also at a loss for words. I'll just not say anything shall I?
COMPUTER GUY: You... you reviewed me? Oh, my lord, I'm going to faint. ::glomps V:: YOU RULE!
SARGE: Ri, what kind of medication have you been TAKING???
KC: Really? I thought the transitions were a little choppy myself....
ACE: Thanks.
ACE: Brennan's an ol' softie at heart, I can just tell.
ACE: I have.
* * * * * * * *
A/N : I would like to point out right here and now. Any and all romance anyone might see between Brennan and ANY of my OCs WHATSOEVER is all in your mind. It is Bren/Shal ALL THE WAY BABY!!!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
* * * * * * * *
Eighteen-year-old Brennan glared into his rum and coke. He was really too young to drink, but he could get into a lot of bars without an ID. He never really had anything stronger than this, and not much of it at that. The last thing he wanted to do was end up like his step-father; an abusive alcoholic. He didn't need a drinking problem zapping whatever spare cash he was able to scrounge at odd jobs or he had pick-pocketed.
Brennan's life was a simple one. He had a very small apartment, which he lived in for reduced rent because he was the handyman for the building. He had a good life, though money was often tight he was resolved not to go back to Jay, though he knew the man would welcome him and help him out. He had leeched off Jay for eight years, at least in his opinion. The man had been very kind to him, and he was grateful, but it was time to make it on his own.
He glared around the club. Time to get down to business. He was out of money. He had almost no food left and it was time to start working this club. It WAS why he was here after all. He had to pay his little expenses. This club was very crowded, with flashing globe lights. The music was too loud and very wild and the dance floor was packed. The flashing lights were annoying and the music was giving him a headache, but both would make his job easier.
He moved his way across the dance floor. He danced with some girls fleetingly, and bumped into people frequently. He was emptying the pockets of quite a few people along the way. Several times he was stopped by ladies with offers of phone numbers, or who swayed their hips and slurred words they thought were seductive. Really, there were times he cursed his good looks. While they made him look older and allowed him to get into bars like this one, they hindered his work sometimes.
Like NOW for instance.
He knew it was his own fault for picking a club as trashy as this one. The girls here seemed desperate for a good fuck with any half-way decent looking guy. And Brennan was certainly more than half-way decent.
An arm slipped around his waist and a girl in a skimpy baby-T fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Hey, baby, wanna dance?" The smell of booze was strong on her breath, and her words were slurred slightly. She wasn't trashed, but obviously drunk.
He looked her up and down. She wasn't immediately perceived as the type who would come here with the sole intention of getting laid. A dance probably wouldn't hurt. He bet she carried a money clip in those tight jeans of hers, but there was no way he was trying for it when the clothing was that tight. Not even HIS hands were THAT nimble-fingered.
Taking his momentary indecision for consent she pulled him closer. "You're pretty good for a rookie ya know," she giggled.
Brennan smirked at her. "Watchya talkin' 'bout, huh? Come on, tell me out right. Life's too short to beat around the bush."
"I've been watching you all night. And you're not bad; you must have been doing this for a while now."
"Still don't know what you're talking about," Brennan told her calmly, although he did. She had seen him pick-pocket of course. But he had to play these games with her. If she had caught his technique, then she was either a thief or a cop. Jay's teachings had not gone to waste and he was an excellent pick-pocket. If this girl had been simply checking him out, she would not have noticed his lifting the wallets. A thief or a cop might catch it though. And if she was the latter and she hadn't arrested him yet maybe he could pay her off.
"You've been lifting wallets you bad boy."
"Well? What're you gunna do about it, huh? Arrest me?"
"I'm not going to arrest you. If I had a pair of handcuffs I'd use them for something more fun than to ARREST you, big boy," she smirked. Brennan smirked back. "But seriously. You ARE good. I'm here to offer you a job."
A...job. Right. That made sense...
Ok, so it didn't.
"Huh?" was his brilliant reply.
"Huh?" she imitated. "A job, braniac. This might be a good thing for you. You do a good job and we might even hire you again. You'll get training, exshpiensh, cut of the profitsh... Everything a guy like you could want. Ish a good deal." Her words continued to slur together and she kept breaking off into giggles. Brennan wondered if his first opinion was wrong, maybe she WAS trashed. "Think 'bout it will ya?"
"I'll do that," he said non-comitally, with no intention of doing so. He liked his life. He was doing ok, and he didn't need some drunk who was probably just rambling to shake it up.
Anyway, he was happy with the load he had brought in; it would be enough to hold him for awhile. So he should probably go. He made a move to leave, but the blonde latched onto his wrist.
"Where you think you're going, huh?"
"Uh, home?" was Brennan's, once again, brilliant reply.
"Nuh-uh! You can't drive. You're drunk," she said determinedly. Brennan raised an eyebrow.
"A) I only had a glass of rum and coke, and am nowhere NEAR drunk, and B), I'm not driving."
"Don't kid a kidder!" she giggled. "You can't fool me. No way am I letting you drive!" And with that, she held up a pair of keys, on a very familiar key chain...
"Hey! Those are my keys!" he cried as he made a grab for them. 'How did she...Oh, right, a fellow pick-pocket. Dammit!'
"Come and get them, big boy." And on that note, she slipped them inside her impossibly tight shirt. Damn! His house key was on that key chain!
"Come on, give me back my keys!" he snapped. He wasn't willing to fish around in that tight baby-T for them, that was for sure. At eighteen, he wasn't a total stranger to woman, but as drunk as she was, it would border on taking advantage of her. He had to draw the line somewhere.
"Naw. I'm shaving your life. You'll thank me when you're shober!"
"I'm sober now! Give me my God damned keys! I'm telling you, I didn't drive here! I walked!" he growled out. His fists were clenching and unclenching, and he was really fighting not to slug or shock her one.
"Men alwaysh think that they're shober. Now the leasht you can do ish walk me home."
"The least I can do? What the Hell did you ever do for me?"
"I'm shaving your life you imbishil."
"Saving my life? You stole my keys! Give. Them. Back. NOW!"
"Nope!" she said cheerfully, sauntering off through the crowd. Brennan stared after her, mouth open. Then, recovering his senses, he scrambled after her.
And such was his first encounter with Karlie Ripamshan. [1]
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
[1] Ri. Pam. Shan. Ripamshan. ::wails:: I couldn't THINK of anything! Anyways, that's where it came from. Credit where credit is due.... This name is dedicated to Riley, Pam, and Shannon for bugging the Hell out of me to finish this fic. Hehe.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Rockergurl: Oh, good LORD was that short. Sorry everyone, it was totally out of my hands. Blame my beta! It was all her!
Kitta Cat: I can't believe you're blaming Shan!
Rockergurl: hehe, Sorry Shannon. I would have liked this to be longer though... Sorry again. And just because I'm SO nice, I'll get the next chapter out double time! I swear! Scout's honor!
Kitta Cat: That would be SO much more convincing if you had ever been a scout.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
REVIEW RESPONSES:
BLUE: Glad to know your opinion
EYECANDY: Most of the time when characters are OOC it's because that it works for the story, isn't it? @__@
EMMA0211: Shhh... Those are my little secrets, now aren't they?
ELEMENTAL-SPARKY: ::wink:: You really know how to flatter an author donchya?
NOBLE BLUE: People, Jesse is totally immature and we all know it. ::snickers:: Well, he is.
SOMEBODY: Yes, yes they are. ::snickers again::
PETITECAT: Yes, he is a naughty boy, isn't he?
QUEST: Here you go. You no longer have to wait.
PIANO-PLAYER: Oh, Jamie. You're my other half. You HAVE to say nice things about my fics. Rockergurl/Ashley/your other half
ITALIANCHIKE: Yes, fanfiction rules that way, ne?
MOTORALA: I'm also at a loss for words. I'll just not say anything shall I?
COMPUTER GUY: You... you reviewed me? Oh, my lord, I'm going to faint. ::glomps V:: YOU RULE!
SARGE: Ri, what kind of medication have you been TAKING???
KC: Really? I thought the transitions were a little choppy myself....
ACE: Thanks.
ACE: Brennan's an ol' softie at heart, I can just tell.
ACE: I have.