Author's note: I'm so tired! ;D…3:08 A.M., haha! I played DMC again, before I typed this thingie out. I want to go to sleep now, so no more, except…DMC not mine.
P.S. Bustahead, I've finally managed to fit in Trish's craving .
Chapter 7: The Pains of Ice Cream
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Pale light streamed through dusty windows. Slowly but surely, it inched towards the closed eyes of Dante. When the light lit upon sensitive eyelids, the male devil hunter instantly awoke, and jerked himself upright.
"Ah—ah-ah-aah," he groaned, stretching like a cat, his all-too-achy back arching. His muscles were cramped from sleeping on the chair. I should get a couch, he thought to himself, and made a bee-line to the bathroom, which was in the back of his 'office/living room'. He hated the morning taste in his mouth; he could not get his day started without a good shot of toothpaste.
As he was brushing his teeth, Dante heard a raucous commotion out in front. Dashing out, mouth foaming, he saw Trish stumbling forth from the front doors with 2 giant shopping bags, one in each hand.
"What the he---"
"Morning, Dante! You're looking good." She dashed up the stairs.
Shaking his head, Dante decided to finish his morning ritual before investigating. When the halfling finished brushing his teeth and shaving, he went upstairs to his room to don on a black muscle tee and some old, holey jeans, all the while hand-combing his shaggy hair. Satisfied, he then proceeded to Trish's room.
"Trish?" He knocked on her tightly-shut door.
No answer.
"What's going on in there?"
No answer.
"Trish, answer me, or I'll knock down the door!" A hint of worry tinged his words. Trish was in a weakened state; anything could have happened.
"Mmmph! Guurhhh----"
That wasn't good enough for Dante. True to his word, he 'knocked' down the door, with a single, well-aimed punch, before the muffled nonsense had a chance to finish.
The fallen door gave sight to a disheveled young blonde, sitting on her unmade bed, spooning some kind of gunk in her mouth. She swallowed. "Dante! I told you to wait!"
"Wait? Sorry babe, I don't speak MFT," He leaned forward over her, and sniffed. "What the hell?" he repeated again. "Ice cream, so early in the morning?"
"MFT?" Trish shoved another giant spoonful into her mouth, after shoving him away, first. "Whoot's phat?"
"Mouth Full Talk," responded Dante. He leaned forward, and sniffed again. "Mmm...Green Tea. You have good taste." He tried to wrestle the spoon from her.
She growled. "Didn't you say that eating ice cream now was too early in the morning?" Protective hands covered the opening of the carton.
Dante shrugged. "Suit yourself, babe." He got up from the bed, knowing full well that Trish would get sick soon enough, and he'll be able to feed next. She did, after all, buy two full shopping bags of ice cream. A thought scampered through his still-sleepy brain. He remembered that his mom would get an enormous craving for ice cream about once a month. She was careful not to eat much, then. Even after miniscule amounts, she would drink lots of hot tea, or warm milk. Dismissing it as unimportant, Dante exited the room.
After a short while, the half-demon heard Trish's groans upstairs. Aha! She probably stuffed her face full of ice cream, and now she was paying the price. Dante ran up the stairs and eagerly opened the door to the female's room, thinking of stealing the frozen treat from her nose while she was still weak. The sight that greeted his eyes shocked him.
Trish was lying on her side, clutching her stomach. As she looked up to face him, Dante noticed that her face was paler than usual. "…Hurts…." she whimpered. A half-empty carton lay sadly on its side on the floor.
"God, what did you do now?" Dante looked around the room, searching for any hidden cartons. "How many boxes of ice cream did you eat?"
"I didn't eat… that…much…" The devil pointed to the lone carton next to the bed.
"Just half a carton? I don't understand." Dante picked up the box and sniffed its contents. His sensitive nose told him it hadn't gone bad, had a long way before it would go bad. He trusted his nose. Dante's refrigerator contained things that resembled biological experiments gone awry. His nose was the only thing that could pick out 'foods' that were edible.
He then noticed that Trish wasn't clutching her stomach; she was clutching her abdomen. He poked it, not too gently. "Does it hurt there?" He started remembering what he had been thinking earlier, and a theory formulated in his mind.
"Ow!" Trish's response confirmed his theory.
Seconds later, Trish was holding an aged hot-water bottle to her abdomen, while sipping hot water. Water was the only thing Dante had; he had forgotten to restock his supplies.
"I didn't think that this was significant, but it seems that you can't eat or drink any cold stuff while you have your…period."
Trish snorted. "Tell me that again."
"I didn't think that this was sig---" Trish stopped Dante by putting a shaky hand to Dante's lips. "You know what I meant. Quit being corny."
Dante couldn't help it. He was secretly thinking of ice cream, now stashed in the refrigerator---downstairs. He would always get corny when he was excited about something.
"So, you can only eat so much. And even if you ate, for example, 5 spoonfuls, it would be best to counteract the effect by eating or drinking something warm."
Trish sipped her hot water. She was getting drowsy again, and the pain was ebbing away. Her eyes closed for a couple of seconds, then opened again. The warmth around her belly felt so delicious…
"It's okay, Trish," Dante said to her. "You're more tired than usual. It's best that you sleep, so you can recover." He lowered her down, and covered her with her blankets. "I'll shut the door when I go out, so I don't disturb you, kay?"
Trish nodded her head. Dante was so kind to her. She thought that was a tad suspicious, but was too tired to care. She had already snuggled up and was halfway to Dreamland when Dante exited the room with the empty cup in his hands. An evil smile appeared on his lips after he shut the door. He noiselessly inched his way downstairs to a treasure box called a refrigerator.