A/N: Another week, another chapter! Still going to kill ff(dot)net. Does anybody know how to make decentpage breaks between paragraphs? I'm losing hope here. Keeping it short today, so enjoy!
ooo
The music blaring from the enormous speakers was so loud Riddick could swear he felt a breeze. It was some generic rock group, the volume up so loud he couldn't even discern words. The lighting was a dim flashing neon, and smoke swirled around the floor.
He raised an eyebrow at the barmaid who brought him his drink – a pint of Varcan NoseBleed. She smiled suggestively and leaned forward, ensuring him a good view down her shirt as she inquired if he needed anything else from her. Riddick said nothing, merely stared at her from behind his goggles until she realized he wasn't taking the bait and flounced off.
The bar was dark enough that he could remove said goggles – and he did so, reveling in the play of the phosphorescent colors of his vision on the gyrating bodies on the dance floor. Taking a swig of his drink, he settled back against the bar, and cocked his head to the side.
"Enjoying the view?"
Riddick glanced sideways at Jack and smiled. "Took you long enough."
The girl groaned. "Have you seen the bathrooms here? I had three hookers try to pick me up, got stuck in a queue, and almost got thrown out by a bouncer. It isn't my fault!"
He laughed and half-turned to the barman. "A Treelo Starshooter for my friend." As the barman poured the drink, Jack hoisted herself up onto the stool next to him and grinned. "This is so cool, Riddick!"
He smiled down at her, this girl who was so like him. The waitress sauntered over with Jack's drink, interest renewed by the revelation of his silver pupils. "I like your eyes," she purred, sweeping her eyes over Riddick's body. "And other parts…"
"Don't you have a corner somewhere to work?" Jack quipped from his side, fixing the waitress with a look of disgust.
Nearly hissing, the woman turned to Jack. "Aren't you a little young to be here? Shouldn't you be at home playing with your toys?"
Riddick swiped the drink from her tray and handed it to Jack. He turned back to the waitress and fixed her with an unblinking stare until she got uncomfortable again and hurried away. It didn't take as long this time – his silver glare was enough to make anyone feel threatened.
Jack grinned in triumph and took a swig of her drink. For a minute her face took on a rather puckered look, but then her features relaxed and she swallowed.
Riddick chuckled. "You okay there, kid?"
She treated him to a sheepish look. "I wasn't expecting it to be that strong, but it's still good!" She sipped again, and smiled in contentment. "Tastes fruity!" she exclaimed, and looked curiously at her drink. "What's it called?"
"A Treelo Starshooter. They're a good start for juniors."
She rolled her eyes. "And what are you drinking, Mr. Accomplished Drinker?"
"Varcan NoseBleed."
"A what?"
"That's what it's called." He glanced around and frowned, then seemed to make a decision. Rather unceremoniously, he hauled her off her stool and pulled her over to a dark corner of the room. "Look, the waitress was right. You need to look older."
About to protest, Jack recognized the look on his face, and wisely shut up. "Well you'll have to turn around and shield me from view, then."
Riddick complied, facing the room innocently, trying not to look as awkward as he felt. Jack was behind him muttering softly and shifting around. She kept elbowing him in the back – he couldn't be sure if that was on purpose or purely accidental.
Finally, she tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to find himself looking at an older Jack. Her uniform skirt had been rolled up several inches, and her white shirt was open nearly to her bra with the tails tied up to expose her stomach. She sported a devilish look that made her look wise beyond her years, in things she shouldn't know about.
He smiled. "Better."
She looked down at herself, then frowned at him. " I don't suppose you have a handkerchief…"
Raising an eyebrow, he fished out a scrap of cloth spattered with red-brown stains and handed it to her. "How attached to this are you?" she questioned, eyeing the stains uncomfortably.
"I'm not."
"Good." She quickly ripped the cloth into two pieces, and turned to the wall. Riddick could see her awkwardly doing something with the front of her shirt, but he couldn't tell what. When she turned again, he noticed real quickly. She had breasts.
"Quite a wealth of talents you got there, kid."
Jack grinned. "I also to Elvis impressions – I'll be here all week!"
Riddick laughed and handed her drink safely back to her, before dragging her towards the dance floor.
ooo
The music pulsed around them, a deep thrum that reverberated rhythmically through their bodies, vibrating the blood in their veins. Jack danced like the night, dark and sultry – her hands swaying above her head, keeping her drink safe from the fray. She spun and shimmied, the fluorescent laser light flashing across her blissful face.
Riddick was beside her, a satisfied smile slipping onto his face. As he watched Jack grinding and swinging her hips to the music, he knew he was right to bring her here. Even if she is about six years underage… Imam would never forgive him – if he found out – but then Imam would know what to say in an ice-cream parlor. Dark clubs, loud bars, those were Riddick's territory.
And he knew how to work them too. Soon he had a dark-haired beauty in thigh-highs and a miniskirt pressed up against him, running her hands over his chest as they gyrated to the music. A short blonde was dancing against his back, so close he could feel her breasts through the few layers of cloth that separated them.
This was life, here with the booze and the beauties and the beat. He tossed back the rest of his drink and laughed, snaking an arm around the two women moving with him. Their hips all moved together, and their hands were twined with strangers'.
Through a gap in the crowd, he was Jack bumping and grinding with a guy in a leather jacket – one of her arms was thrown around his neck behind her, and the other brought her drink to her lips. The man had his hands placed so that the tips of his fingers were just barely under the rolled waistband of her skirt.
Riddick frowned and disengaged himself from his dancing partners, giving them both an apologetic kiss, before slipping through the mob towards Jack. He grabbed her hand as it snaked through the air and tugged her towards him. She resisted at first, but then recognized him and pulled away from her man.
"Excuse me." Riddick told Jack's partner sardonically, guiding Jack away.
"What's up?" she asked. "I was having fun!"
He frowned, unsure why exactly he had dragged her away – if he was worried about her being underage, well he had brought her here. "I want you to stay close to me." He finally replied. "I mean, I need to be able to keep an eye on you, so stay near."
She nodded, and grasped his free hand in hers, twirling under his arm. "Dance with me!" she yelled over the noise, already snaking around him.
He grinned and began to move as well, depositing his drink on a nearby ledge. Then he let himself go into the music, and they danced.
ooo
"I guess it's a really good thing I didn't have any homework tonight, right?"
Riddick laughed as he and Jack strolled home under the warm night. "Guess so."
"What time is it anyway?" she asked, gazing up at him from where she leaned against his arm.
"It's 1:35."
She blinked. "You're shitting me."
A single eyebrow raise was all the answer she got.
"Aw, Riddick, I gotta get up in five hours and twenty five minutes!"
Now it was his turn to blink. "Oh yeah." He just couldn't seem to get the hang of this parenting thing. Time had just slipped away from him – one minute his watch had read 21:45, the next, 01:30. He had forgotten that Jack had school, and that she had to be up early. He was just glad she didn't have homework – he would have forgotten that too.
ooo
When they finally reached Imam's house, Jack was practically asleep on her feet, leaning heavily against Riddick's arm.
Propping her up against the wall, Riddick typed in the passcode for the lock and swung the door open. Turning back to Jack, he discovered that she had dozed off against the doorjamb. He grinned and swept her easily into his arms.
"We home?" She queried blearily, and then closed her eyes again before he could answer.
After carrying her up the stairs, Riddick eased open the door to her room and stepped inside. It was less messy than he expected – some papers scattered on the desk, mounds of books on the bookshelf, rumpled bedcovers, and a few articles of clothing peeking out from the drawers.
Crossing the room in two strides, he laid her gently down on the bed and drew the tangled covers up to her chin. She wakened slightly as he tugged off her boots, but found his face and smiled before drifting off. Riddick stayed beside her bed, staring down at the sleeping girl for a minute, then he smiled. "Yeah, Jack. We're home."
He tiptoed across the room, closed the door, and headed for his own bed.
ooo
"Come on, Jack. UP!" Riddick shouted, yanking down the covers.
Jack groaned and burrowed into the wall, throwing an arm over her face. "Fimohminz…" she muttered.
"It's 7:23!"
Once this information processed, she sat straight up, then groaned and sagged back on the bed, shielding her eyes. "Ugh…"
Riddick winced. She had only been a bit buzzed the night before – just two Starshooters – but he knew how even the slightest of hangovers could be a bitch. He leaned over and flicked off the lights. "Better?"
She started to nod, then thought better of it. "Yeah. I need a shower."
"No time! We have to leave for school in fifteen minutes!"
She looked up at him. "I. Need. A shower. Now."
Faced with that look, Riddick wisely got out of her way, and headed downstairs. Maybe he'd pack her lunch to save time. He'd never packed a kid's lunch before. What did they like? Junk food, he remembered. But he could also remember Imam lecturing them both on the benefits of vegetables.
Curious, he opened the cooling unit. Scanning the neatly printed labels nearest him, he began to get the feeling he was in too deep. Rhubarb? What the hell is that? Looks like a vegetable. Starfruit? Might be poisonous. Sour cream? Why would you want cream that's gone sour? Pomegranates? Maple syrup? Ketchup?
Yogurt at least he recognized, and some other fruit and veg – carrots, potatoes, apples, oranges. Where Imam had procured all this was beyond Riddick. He grabbed a few things that looked either familiar or edible, and closed the door.
As he ventured into the walk-in pantry, Riddick heard the water upstairs running – Jack would be in the shower then. But the fact was hardly comforting, as the cupboard was even more of a museum for Riddick. Thyme? Tumeric? Lentils? Chamomile? Jello powder? Marshmallows? Worcestershire sauce? Vanilla? Tortillas? A bit worried, he pulled together an armful of slightly less foreign items and staggered back into the kitchen.
The water shut off upstairs, just as he stepped out. Glancing at his watch, he winced. 07:36. They had to leave in nine minutes. Forget style then, it was all speed.
Grabbing a few ingredients, he piled them all into a thin, sack-like bread called a 'pita', and stuck it in the toast-o-matic. After locating the blender, he dumped in some fruity-looking stuff, some yogurt, and a great deal of honey, before slapping on the lid and flipping it on. A couple of veggies got washed and chucked in a plaswrap bag. As the bag sealed itself with a hiss of air, he poured a few different sauces into some small cup-like containers. Realizing Jack would want breakfast, he slapped a few things together between some white bread and threw it on a plate.
He could hear Jack clomping about in her room, cursing loudly. As an afterthought, he make himself another of his newly-christened 'breakfast sandwiches', loaded up the coffeepot, and grabbed everything from their respective devices of preparation.
He closed the kitchen door behind him at exactly 07:44, just as Jack came stumbling down the stairs, clad once again in her uniform. She stared at him, startled, for a few seconds. He tossed her the paper bag, and held out her breakfast sandwich and travel mug of coffee.
"What's this?" she asked suspiciously, peering into the bag.
"Your lunch."
"What's in it?"
He shrugged. "Some stuff. Hell if I know exactly what."
Looking decidedly worried, she pushed past him and peeked into the kitchen. "Holy shit, Riddick! What did you do? Set off a bomb?"
He jerked the door closed. "I haven't cleaned up yet." He growled, shoving her breakfast into her free hand, and propelling her towards the door.
Jack looked at him fearfully, but didn't protest. She shifted the 'sandwich' into one hand, and opened her school bag with her other, dumping the paper-bag lunch inside and zipping it up. She swung it onto her shoulder, took her coffee from Riddick, but paused before opening the door. "Do I have to go to school today?"
Riddick thought about it for a minute. He didn't really care, and he knew she probably felt like shit at the moment, but Imam had left express orders that unless she was sick or there had been a bomb threat, she was supposed to attend school every day.
"Are you sick?"
She sighed. "I feel sick, but I'm probably just hungover."
"Then you have to go to school."
"Dammit."
ooo
As they walked along, Jack warily tried her breakfast sandwich. After a bit of thought, she grinned. "Mmmmm! Riddick, this is good! I had no idea you were a chef."
Quirking an eyebrow at her, he sipped his coffee. "What you don't know about me could fill a book."
"A whole library, probably!" she quipped, taking another bite. "Yum. What's in it?"
Taking a bite of his own sandwich, he chewed carefully. "Something called a banana…some whipped cream…chocolate sauce…peanut butter…chips…these marshmallow things…some cinnamon…probably other stuff too."
She looked at him, torn between disbelief and disgust. "Okay, I really won't ask what's in my lunch then…The coffee is normal, right?"
He sipped his steaming brew. "It should be…I don't remember putting anything in it."
Jack looked a little daunted. "That's good, I guess…Now I have art class after school today, so I don't need to be picked up until three-thirty."
Riddick nodded. Mentally he was chanting 'three-thirty, three-thirty, three-thirty…'
ooo
After signing Jack in at school, he returned the house, and warily stepped into the kitchen. It really did look like a war zone, food strewn everywhere, and a good bit splattered in odd places. Tossing off his sweatshirt and goggles, he took a deep breath, and began to hum softly - and slightly off-tune. "Clean up, clean up, everybody everywhere…"
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A/N: Thanks to last chapter's wonderful reviewers – TotallyRiddickObsessed (you came back!), But He Hit Me First (love the name), SueBe, Lex (still only ½ a review…tsk tsk), nj (you came back too!), and zilly-pill. Look out for next week's installment, it's crak-a-lackin'!
Cheers,
Rama