Dufus
A TS/Kim Possible crossover
by Helen W.
May, 1999, a few weeks after TSbyBS
"I got a job!"
Jim put down the sports section. "Oh, hey there. Congratulations. But I thought you were starting the academy..."
"Yeah, yeah, in August." Blair started putting away groceries. "But this is just for the next month. I'm subbing for a friend who's following her partner to Tanzania."
"Subbing?"
"Out in Middleton."
"Isn't that in the middle of nowhere?"
"Yeah, but I've always thought I'd be a good middle school teacher."
"Middle school?"
"You can stop repeating everything I say," said Blair.
"No, I'm just trying to get this straight. You're going to be teaching at..." and now Jim looked horrified.
"Yeah, Middleton Middle School."
Jim covered his face with his newspaper, then looked back up. "Well, at least being a cop is going to look really good after this."
Brenda had provided detailed syllabi for each of the four classes Blair would be teaching, as well as descriptions of some of the students. Since it was so late in the year, Blair figured he'd follow Brenda's lesson plans, but he thought he should ignore the other information, so that the kids would respond positively to his lack of preconceived notions about their behavior or what they were capable of.
Nothing in his first period class - a half-semester-long elective on the Middle Ages - tempted him to change his mind. The class was full of 13- and 14-year-old versions of himself. Okay, himself at 12, but the type was familiar. He augmented Brenda's lesson plan by talking about what the local coastal and plateau tribes had probably been doing in the timeframe they were studying. Loads of fun.
Second Period was Inclusion Social Studies. Only 12 students, and he had an aide - a really pretty aide - for the period. It went fine. As the class left, the aide gave a mock salute. "Remember, Blair, anything is possible with this next class," she said, with an odd inflection on the fifth word.
"Yeah, Honors Sixth Grade U.S. History. Should be fun."
"Fun isn't the word I'd use..." and she left.
The class was composed of 24 kids including - woe, twin boys? Identical except for their overshirts, one green, one red. Didn't schools try to separate twins whenever possible? Maybe there was only one section of Honors. Still, he finally took a look at the notes Brenda had left on her former students. At the top of the sheet for this class she'd used a black Sharpie to write, 'We keep them together to minimize the pain.'
How difficult could a couple of high-track eleven-year-olds be? And things WERE fine, for five minutes, as he started talking about the Korean War, and why it had been originally termed a 'conflict'. Then he heard... was that a squeak?
And now the class was tittering, its collective attention drawn to the twins. He strode over to them in a way that he hoped was equal parts confident, authoritative, and teacher-cool. "Hey, guys, anything you want to share with the class?"
"Yeah. Jim and I are bidding on a Korean-war-era 105 mm Howitzer on Ebay," said the twin wearing the red (or was that more a crimson?) shirt.
"What-bay?"
"Man, it's almost the 21st Century! Get with the program!" said the other, whose shirt was actually more teal than green. "But I really think we should go for a Bazooka instead."
"Howitzer!"
"Bazooka!"
"Howitzer!"
"Bazooka!"
"And things are better with you boys in the same class?" Blair snapped.
"Yes!" chorused the rest of the room.
And then a THING crawled onto the desk of the red-shirted twin. It was the size of a large mouse, but sort of hunched, and, uck, HAIRLESS. Half the class screamed; the other half jumped out of their chairs and scampered forward for a closer look. Blair wasn't sure which half he should join, or if this was when a sub was supposed to call for backup.
"It's a naked mole rat," said the boy. "We finally figured out how to cloned up a batch. We're calling this generation the Mark-2s. This little guy is 2-Delta."
Maybe it was time to wrench control of the class back. "Whatever that thing is, I want you to put it back wherever it came from, and we're going to walk down to the principal's office together after class and see what Mr. Volk says."
"Aww!" said the non-cowering half of the class.
"Tee hee, tee hee!" said the rodent, as it leapt from the desk of the red-shirted twin, straight at Blair.
"What the..." he almost squealed.
The thing landed on his shirt and ran up to his shoulder. "Trou-ble! Trou-ble!" it sounded like it was saying.
Blair leaned to the side and tried to grab the creature, but it zipped around his shoulders. "Fun! Catch me!" it said. Definitely SAID.
"Wow!" said the red-shirted twin.
"We did it!" said the one in green.
"So you hear it too?" Blair asked. A little validation was a good thing in times like this.
"Boo-yeah!" said the twins together.
The twin in red grabbed the thing off him. "Say something else, Rufus Mark 2-Delta!"
"Squeak! Squeak!" and it leaped back to Blair. This time, Blair let it climb up to his shoulder and perch undisturbed. "Class dismissed!" it said.
"Uh, not yet," said Blair. He looked at the class. "Well then," he said. "Let's continue..."
After class, the twins (Jim and Tim Possible, Blair had eventually learned, though he still hadn't mapped name to shirt color) came to the front of the room.
"Let's say we skip Mr. Volk and brief you on your Rufus Mark 2," said the green-shirted twin.
"Uh-huh," said the - naked mole rat? - yeah, it was naked and both mole-like and rat-like, so why not?
Blair tried to look severe. "Don't you have class?"
The boys shrugged. "Then how about we meet at Bueno Nacho after school?" said the red-shirted twin.
"Yeah, you can buy, since we're giving you a Rufus Mark 2," said green-shirt.
"Listen, I can't let you give..."
And the poor little creature on his shoulder started to bawl.
"Hey, hey," said Blair, taking it into his hands and stroking it. "'Sokay. I'll keep you."
"Great!" said the twins, and running off as the late bell for fourth period rang.
This was one of Blair's prep periods, so he decided he'd find the teachers' lounge. First things first, though. "I can't call you Rufus Mark 2-Delta," he said. "How about - Dufus?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," it said, then, "Coffee time!"
The Bueno Nacho was right across a soulless four-lane thoroughfare from Middleton Middle School. The boys hadn't arrived yet, but Dufus said, "Nacos! Nacos!" so Blair got a couple of orders. They looked to be something of a cross between a taco and a nacho; Jim Ellison would love them. He was never taking Jim here.
A few minutes later, another, larger naked mole rat came in. Well, more precisely, an older boy entered the restaurant with a naked mole rat in his pocket, but Blair noticed the rodent first.
The boy probably noticed Dufus before Blair, Blair rationalized.
The boy approached and the mole rats leapt onto a table and did a little happy-dance together. Smiling, the boy said, "Ron Stoppable's the name, world saving's the game. I see the tweebs have gifted you with one of their latest creations."
"World saving?"
"Side-kick!" said Ron's naked mole rat.
"And, yes, I do, from time to time, get kicked in the side," said Ron. "And this is Rufus."
"Ah... THE Rufus? Rufus Prime or something like that?"
"Yeah, but I just call him Rufus," said Ron.
"Humble, uh-huh!" said Rufus.
Jim and Tim entered in a tumble of arms and legs and ballistic missile manuals. They swooped on the rodents and tossed Rufus and Dufus around a bit before setting into the nacos.
Blair sat back and wondered if this, in any way, resembled what interacting with students in Cascade would be like. After a bit, he said, "I've got a bit of a drive, so can we go over a few basics? Like, what does Dufus eat?"
"Cheese!" said the naked mole rats and human boys as one.
"Uh, right."
"And anything else your mom wants you to eat that you need to pass off," said Ron.
"Not one of my problems, most of the time. Does he need a cage?"
Shocked silence. Even the other patrons stared.
"Then what about, ya know, droppings?"
"Yuh-oh, so rude!" said Dufus.
"I really think you have to let the little dude have some privacy about certain matters," said Ron, whose attention seemed to be suddenly drawn out the window.
Blair turned to look. A red-haired girl wearing a cheerleading uniform was crossing the parking lot. Sort of cute... well, gorgeous, actually, and completely out of Ron's league. Poor kid, he was obviously captivated by her.
She waved in their direction through the window. "Later, guys," said Ron, stuffing some of Blair's nacos into a bag. "Kim must have lined us up a lift to Peru. Back in a few days."
"We'll tell mom you got a late start," said the red-shirted twin.
When Blair's head stopped spinning he said, "This is a pretty odd town you have here."
"Yup," said the green-shirted twin.
"By Peru, did he mean..."
"Country in South America, capital Lima? Yup," said the red-shirted twin. "But they might get side-tracked."
"And, yeah, we think they're dating, but we don't have pictures. Yet," said the green-shirted twin.
"Peeping toms!" said Dufus.
The closer Blair got to home, the odder things seemed. Naked mole rats just didn't go around on people's shoulders providing running commentary!
Jim met him at the door to the loft, sniffing. "You smell like..."
"Dufus!" said the naked mole rat.
"Uh, yeah, though I wouldn't have been so blunt," said Jim. "What's with the silly voi..."
"Cat-free!" said Dufus, leaping from where he'd been crouching beneath Blair's ponytail. He circled the TV, then scampered up the closest bookshelf and leapt for a lamp, which teetered only slightly upon impact.
"What the..."
"Uh, yeah, a couple of the kids gave me a pet," said Blair. "Yo Dufus, this is Jim. This is his pad, so be nice to it, okay? I just crash here."
"You're giving instructions to a rodent?" said Jim. "And... you know, you LIVE here, you're not CRASHING here."
"Cable!" squealed Dufus as he raced past. "MTV! WWF!"
"And... and why does he... how is he speaking?"
Blair shrugged and tried to look nonchalant. "The boys who gave him to me cloned him off a mutant naked mole rat that belongs to a friend of their sister's. They say they're aiming for him to sound like Worf and, um, bake, since apparently their parents think Entenmann's is as good as cookies get. But Dufus generation mostly does, well, this."
"Which is?"
"He's sort of a sycophant, I guess," said Blair. "Or Greek Chorus. He pretty much vocalizes what you're thinking before you think it. I think."
"That's, uh, pretty perturbing."
Blair shrugged. "Chicks dig it, as far as I can tell. The guy who owns Rufus, he's, like, your typical high school dork, but he hangs with this stunning red-headed cheerleader."
Dufus ran up his leg and torso, settling again on Blair's shoulder. "Groovy pad," he said.
"Wanna give him a try?" asked Blair. "Duf, go sit on Jim's shoulder."
Dufus leapt over to Jim, who bristled but stayed still, then climbed to the top of Jim's head. "Woah, need oxygen!" said the animal. "Ship ahoy! There she blows!"
"That's not remotely what I'm thinking," said Jim.
"Nuh-uh," said Dufus. He leapt back to Blair's shoulder and curled up.
"I think he's a one-person rat," said Jim.
"Uh-huh, uh-huh," said Dufus, curling up.
Blair rubbed his cheek against it. "Uh, maybe. The boys said he hadn't talked until class today. Cute little thing, isn't he?"
"You want an honest answer?"
Dufus aimed a raspberry in Jim's direction. "Bully!"
"Dufus!" Blair exclaimed. "Jim's not a bully!"
"Bossy," said Dufus.
"Is that what you're thinking right now?" Jim asked.
"No! No way, man! I must not be right about how he works."
Dufus gave Blair the most incredulous look a rodent has ever given a human. "Bossy," he repeated, pointing at Jim.
"Well, he is, a little," said Blair, "but he's no bully, and he's under a lot of stress. You see that cane? He was SHOT a few weeks ago."
"Kim nice," said Dufus. "Not Grouchy."
"I'm NOT grouchy!" Jim almost shouted. "I'm, I'm a generous guy! Look, I let Blair live here, don't I? His name's on the mailbox!"
"Grouchy uh-huh," said Dufus with even more certainty. "Grouchy, bossy-boss."
"I'm not - Blair, tell it!"
"Duf, if you knew how much stress...."
Dufus yawned.
"Blair, do you think I come across too strong? I don't mean to - it's just how I am..."
"Yeah, I know, really, it's okay..."
Dufus yawned again.
"What do you want from me?" Jim asked the animal.
"Cheese," he said.
"Yeah, okay, I can do cheese. Blair, do we have any cheese?"
"Told you!" said Dufus.
"I'll get you the cheese, I just wanted to know if we had any!" said Jim, storming toward the kitchen.
"Be nice!" hissed Blair. "I told you before..."
"And don't you start again with the, 'I'm just crashing here!'" called Jim. "Blair, where's that block of provolone? Oh, never mind."
A minute later, he put a small plate of cheese cubes on the table. "Thanks!" said Dufus as Blair set him next to the dish. A moment later, Jim added a saucer of water.
"Blair, do we have to talk?"
"No," said Blair, "we're cool."
"Because I don't know any other way to be."
"Don't worry, Jim, you know I push back when I need to."
Dufus looked up at them and rolled his eyes, which was quite a trick in of itself.
"What!" snapped Jim.
"Um... maybe he's saying that maybe I shouldn't HAVE to."
Jim limped into the living area and dropped into the recliner.
"This business about you just crashing here - IS that how you really feel?"
"No, I live here," said Blair.
"But is this your home? Because I sure consider - I sure hope you call this home."
"Yeah, most of the time. But, you know, I could never pull off kicking YOU out."
"I said I was sorry... " and Jim stopped. "I never did, did I? Said I was sorry? Said that if I ever pull anything like that again, you are to.. No, you SHOULD call Joel and have him cuff me to the radiator until I'm sane again? I told Joel."
"You did?" Blair had walked over to the sliding glass doors and was looking out over the bay. This late in the spring, it was still lighter outside than in at 6 p.m., and Blair hoped that even Jim wouldn't be able to make out his face. "I know that the whole deal with Alex was worse for you than for me."
"Last month, did I ever threaten you in any way? Did I even make you, or Naomi, feel like you shouldn't be here, in the loft, even during the worst of it? Did I? Because I tried hard not to."
"I was wondering...I sort of figured that you were being superstitious. I mean, the last time you kicked me out, I died."
"Well, that might have been half of it," said Jim. "Is it so bad that that was a, a factor?"
"No," said Blair, still talking to the glass. "You've grown a lot, Jim, and even when things are rough between us, I am SO proud of you, you know?"
"Proud?"
"You could be hard, you could have let your upbringing, or the Army, or what happened in Peru, or dealing with your senses, make you someone I couldn't deal with. Wouldn't want to be friends with. But you work at everything, all the time. It's not just your senses you're always fighting to control. I know that. I have no problem dealing with that."
"Hey," said Jim, coming behind him. "You okay?"
Blair nodded, then stepped back and put an arm around Jim, leaning into him carefully - then nearly jumped out of his skin as small feet ran up his body and onto his head.
"Helped the helper, helped the helper, uh-huh!" said Dufus. "Boo-yeah!"
THE END