To Spite Your Face

Author: Toadie
Rating: PG
Archiving: Please inquire ©2002
Challenge: Use the phrase: "What's that on your nose?"



It wasn’t that she wasn’t curious as to what had happened to him but she was trying to respect his obvious wish not to talk about it. The operative word being try. Every time she looked at him she just had to look away quickly and suppress badly the peals of laughter that threatened to erupt. She couldn’t help it; he just looked so… she glanced at him again and found herself almost breathless in her attempts to silence her mirth. She finally broke and released her laughter when she caught him looking at her and releasing a huge sigh. 

“Well… what did you expect me to do when you come back looking like that?” Chiana asked. 

His reply was stoic silence. 

She tried again, only this time she stepped behind him, snuggling up to his back, playing with the hairs on the back of his neck. “You know you really want to tell me.” 

“No. I really don’t.” John said manfully ignoring the tickling sensation making its way down his spine. 

“ know the others are going to ask.” She said suggestively. 

“Yes and they will get the same answer as you. None.” 

“But since I was with you they'll think I already know and won’t stop annoying me till I tell them.” She was smiling now. She had him… he just didn’t know it yet. 

“But you don’t know anything.” His reply was wary, full of suspicion and only served to make her smile even wider. 

“But they don’t know that. They will go on and on and on until I tell them.” 

“Your point being?” Worry was quickly replacing suspicion in his voice. He knew he was trapped just not how it had happened. 

“I have to tell the something and if I don’t know the truth I’ll just have to make something up…” she trailed her voice off suggestively lacing it with pure wicked intent. 

He turned and looked at her, seeing the gleam in her eye and sighed. The sigh of a man who knows he is beaten. 

“What do you want to know?” His voice was resigned, accepting of his fate of being the universe's bad joke. 

“What’s that stuff you have written on your face?” she asked as she walked around to the front of where John was sitting. 

“It’s… well. Let's just say it's our guarantee on the spare parts I bargained for. If anything goes wrong with them within a monen all I have to do is take them back and… show myself. After that it will wear off.” 

“Hmm…” an evil smile lit her face as she leaned forward and pulled the neck of his t-shirt forward as she peered down it to his chest "…does it go… all the way down?” 

He batted her hand away, face flushing. 

“Oh... I see.” She let loose a small peal of laughter at his mortified expression. “And your hair?” 

“You've seen them… all bald as old coots. They shaved it for me as a mark of the high esteem they hold me in for my bargaining powers. I wasn’t exactly in a position to refuse.” 

“Ah…” she turned away idly running her hands over the various surfaces within the pod letting his anxiety reach fever point. This was just too good an opportunity to miss. Microts passed and she felt him relax, thinking that perhaps she would not ask after all. So she waited longer still, humming to herself with no apparent concern as she wandered around behind him. 

Sliding her hands around his neck and placing her mouth to his ear she whispered… 

“So if the scrawl on your body is a guarantee, your baldness a sign of respect… what’s that on your nose?” 


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