Halrloprillalar   hal@prillalar.com   http://prillalar.com/

May 9, 1999

RATING: PG13.

FANDOM/SPOILERS: X-Files. No spoilers.

SUMMARY: Sketch of Spender. Troy.

DISTRIBUTION: Archive anywhere. Email forwarding allowed.

DISCLAIMER: CC, 1013, Fox, not me.

NOTES: Challenge items - "mess", "roam",  "corduroy", "I don't want
to take what you can give", in a car.


CHICKS AND CARS
by Halrloprillalar - hal@prillalar.com

"What do you want, Jeff?"

"Um...a Big Mac and a Coke."

Rolling down the window, Troy leaned out and shouted their order at
the disembodied voice emanating from the sign. He'd parked too far
away, as usual, Jeff noted, and as Troy twisted himself, his knees
banged the steering wheel and his t-shirt rode up a few inches.

While they waited behind a yellow VW, Jeff drummed out rhythms on
his knees, where the corduroy was wearing thin. Troy hummed a
little.

"Hey, I think that's Sherri working the window." Troy craned his
neck, trying to get a better view.

Sherri, which one was Sherri? The brunette from his algebra class?
"Come on, Troy, don't take too long. Zibo's already going to kill
us for showing up at practice with food. If we're late, he'll throw
a fit and we won't get any work done."

"You gotta get your priorities straight." Troy smiled, his bright,
sunny, Mr Popular smile. Not for the first time, Jeff wondered why
Troy hung out with him anyway. It took Troy five minutes to
complete the transaction after he'd passed the food over to Jeff.
Concentrating on not paying attention, Jeff chewed on his hamburger
and just barely caught a drip of Special Sauce before it landed on
his shirt. God, couldn't he even eat lunch without making a mess of
himself?

Finally, Troy pulled away, leaving the window down. "Sherri's going
to come to our gig Saturday." He grinned at Jeff. "I needed a
little incentive to practice."

"You want your burger now?"

"Sure." Troy drove one handed, resting his elbow out the window
between bites. "Hey, you know that one part of 'Baby, Goodbye'?"

"Which part?"

Troy sang a few bars:

"I don't want to sin if you forgive.
 I don't want to take what you can give."

Jeff loved to hear Troy sing. He had a sweet, smooth French Vanilla
voice totally unsuited to the music they ground out in Zibo's
garage. A voice that ought to float out from under a soft fedora,
crooning, "Do do that voodoo that you do so well." But the best
Jeff could do was coax him to sing a little folk music from time to
time. When Troy let that sweetness roam through "Shenandoah" it
gave Jeff a sharp pang of beauty that he could never never even
hint at. And those moments were very few and very far between.

"That's good."

"I think it needs some harmony. Try it with me."

Swallowing quickly, Jeff took a drink to clear his throat and
sucked too hard on the straw, spilling a few drops of Coke onto his
shirt. Idiot. "K."

Troy started again and they sang together, searching for the
perfect harmony. One variation sounded a little funny and they
began to improvise wildly, laughing during the rests instead of
breathing. When they pulled up in front of Zibo's, they weren't
even pretending to musicality any longer.

Jeff pulled his bass out of the trunk. Zibo stood on the front
lawn, looking very pissed. "Where the hell were you two?"

"Fuck you," Troy said, grinning. He slung his arm around Jeff's
shoulders and they all went into the garage to practise.

F I N I S

Halrloprillalar   hal@prillalar.com   http://prillalar.com/