brandi. (zombiephile) wrote in daiquiri, @ 2008-01-15 22:47:00 |
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Entry tags: | by others, char: margaret kenmore, game: memories 1975 |
Crack Fic: Untitled (Margaret Kenmore, Doris Purkiss, Demetrius Smith)
Written by Whit and originally posted in obliviate1975 @ gj on February 22, 2007
Characters: Doris Purkiss, Margaret Kenmore, and Demetrius Smith (Doris/Margaret)
Requested by: Brandi
Rating: PG 13 for language and some heavy-duty snogging (femme-slash)
Author's Note: After the Joey/Rachel, I needed a little comedy in my life.
To make a long story short, Demetrius Smith was hiding in the girls' bathroom. Now, of course he had a reason for it - just who do you think he is? Honestly! - but the reasons he was hiding in that particular location were long-winded and complex in nature, and generally involved a small league of girls all wanting to hex his family jewels off for a wide variety of reasons that he was sure was influenced by the moon, or their periods, or something else, because if they were moderate, sensible creatures (like men), then they wouldn't have taken such offense to what he had said. So. Long story shortened - yes, he was in the bathroom, standing on the rim of the toilet seat so that no female type would be able to see him and want to kill him, as had been the general pattern of the day. He had a good view of the countertops, though, which wasn't half as exciting as it sounded. Mostly it consisted of girls applying makeup, or crying over their boyfriends, or getting really, really close to the mirrors to check out their spots. There was a flush in the stall next to him, and he heard heels clicking toward the mirror. Doris Purkiss flipped her hair over her shoulder and examined her reflection in the mirror, trying on several different pouty expressions before applying a bubble-gum pink shade of lipstick. The door to the bathroom opened with a bang, and Demetrius recognised the purposeful gait of Margaret Kenmore as she closed in on Purkiss. All signs pointed to the Gryffindor losing patience; her red and gold tie was rumpled, her fists in twin balls, fingers turning white with the effort of not wrapping themselves around Purkiss's slim throat. "For fuck's sake," started Margaret, and Demetrius was reminded once more of how ladies shouldn't say such things. Even if anger was an attractive expression on them. "I know you were the one who told everyone I snogged girls, Purkiss." "Hmmmm?" Doris answered, and even from his vantage-point on the toilet seat Demetrius could tell she was either a terrible actress, or she wasn't bothering to seem innocent. "I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about... but oh, Margaret! You shouldn't get so stroppy about things! It brings out the pink in your face, and it clashes with your tie." "Shut up you daft bint!" Margaret yelled, but all Doris did was raise a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "Stop it, Purkiss. I mean it. Pregnant, a lesbian... For Merlin's sake! Are you that bored with your own shallow little life that you have to sit about and make up shite about other people?!" "Excuse you," Doris replied, and while she didn't look ruffled, she seemed insulted. "I don't make up shite. I totally look at the evidence, and judge accordingly. It's not my fault if you act like a great big honking lesbian!" "I DO NOT!" Margaret roared. "You're so bleeding full of it it's a wonder that it doesn't start pouring out your ears!" "That was really gross," Doris observed mildly, but Margaret was still on a tear, her nostrils flaring. "Keep out of my goddamn business, Purkiss, and stop starting rumours about me, or I swear to Merlin, I'll-" It wasn't that Margaret had run out of insults and threats. Demetrius was pretty sure she had a virtual never-ending cornucopia of them tucked away in her inappropriate little brain. So when he saw what had actually succeeded in shutting Margaret up, he very nearly fell off of the toilet seat and into the toilet itself. Doris Purkiss had her mouth on Margaret's, and from the look of things, this was no sisterly kiss. No, this was something writhing and demanding and triumphant, Doris's pert little red lips massaging Margaret's as the other girl stood stock still, her eyes wide and approaching a mixture of horrified and... something else. It was that 'something else' that caused Demetrius to lean forward in awestruck disbelief, suddenly wondering what on earth he'd done to deserve this fantastically wonderful sight. Doris wasn't letting up on that kiss, either. Her perfectly manicured nails moved into Margaret's ponytail, directing her mouth harder onto her own, making a smug noise when the Gryffindor responded positively to the kiss. This is the best thing that's ever happened to me, Demetrius thought to himself, pressing his face against the crack in the stall door to get a better look at the scene unfolding before him. With a curse under her breath, Margaret pushed Doris's back hard against the counter, effectively cornering her, her eyes flashing with anger and - oh please let it be desire; please let it be desire - desire. Yes! Doris gave a muffled squeak as her back hit the counter, one of her legs moving out to brace herself from slipping as Margaret's hand wrapped tightly at her hip, tongue thrust demandingly into the other girl's mouth, eyes closed with husky pants exiting her lips in intervals seemingly passing more quickly by the second... "I knew it," Doris hissed, her teeth showing almost sharply for a moment, "I knew you were a great honking lesbian!" She dove back into that glorious kiss. "Shut up, Purkiss," came the blunt response, as Margaret hitched up the Hufflepuff's leg, hands roaming up her thigh and beneath her skirt, and Doris gave a great greedy huff and began to kiss more seethingly, her breaths now laced with a groan, and as Demetrius leaned forward to see if he could get a glimpse of where Margaret's hands were going, and where Doris's hands had gone - where had they gone, and why was Margaret making that sort of whinge? And why was she moving her hips like that, and oh, Doris was... And then he leaned too far forward and made a great crashing noise as he slipped and fell, sliding out from beneath the door of the girls' room stall. Doris gave a ladylike squeak and pushed her skirt back down, and Margaret stared at him with something resembling hatred on her face, but she didn't quite detangle herself from Doris's hips. "You want to do it, or should I?" Margaret growled, her eyes narrowing to slits. "By all means," Doris answered politely. It was then that Demetrius heard what he would later refer to as The Call of Doom. Margaret moved away from the blonde girl and put a hand on her hip, cocking it jauntily as an evil smile crossed her face... "Hey girls! Demetrius Smith is in here in the loo, and he just said I was fat and a slut and on my rag! He also said I couldn't do arithmancy." And then a final yell: "Come and get him!" |