InsaneJournal

Who: Tink and Anders
When: Wednesday night
Where: Tink’s place
What: Anders goes to Tink's place to watch Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along-Blog. Anders realizes he has The Feels. They make plans to go flying someday.
Rating/Warnings: Low/None
Status: Complete when posted


Anders was glad that Tink had invited him over. She had been on his mind quite a bit over the last couple of days. More than he would like to admit, at least. At the very least, lying awake and thinking about her was better than the alternative, which, the last few days, was dreaming about getting kicked in the head. He’d been having the same dream nearly every night since Valentine’s Day. He’d be more concerned about the headaches that he was getting in the morning if he hadn’t been informed that these dreams were … well, not normal dreams. Still, maybe he should get his head checked out by a doctor to make sure that there wasn’t something more insidious going on than… weird dreams that shared the same world as other people.

He had picked up some microwavable popcorn on the way over to her place, and rang the bell once he was there, and tried not to fidget as he waited for her to open the door.

Tink had those dreams. At least that was something they could talk about? If he wanted to. She’d had several, from lots of different alternate universes, lots of different stories. It was confusing. But the things she got from the dreams--her pixie dust, her wings, her sister?--were things that made her life so much better than before them. Even if they were a little confusing.

She’d been cleaning all day in preparation of Anders’ visit. It wasn’t too bad, but she’d been leaving her tools and pieces around her small apartment, and she figured she should put them … somewhere where they wouldn’t trip over them? It was still cluttered a bit. She didn’t actually have homes for everything, though there were bins and shelves and boxes that housed most of her things.

She had to stop, take a deep breath, and straighten her clothes before she pulled the door open. A little smile crossed her features at the sight of him there. “Hey.”

When he saw her in the doorway, he smiled widely. “Heya, Tink,” Anders said. He held up the bag of popcorn. “I brought popcorn for us to make. I wasn’t sure if you had any, but I figured there’s no harm in having an extra bag, even if you did.”

“I have some, but that’s thoughtful.” It was like him to think ahead, wasn’t it? Tink stepped aside so he could come in. “Actually, I made modifications on my microwave, so… you’ll see.” She wasn’t meeting his eye as she stepped side, a little embarrassed about the state of her apartment.

Inside Tink’s place were rube goldberg devices, odds and ends, inventions on every spare shelf and table space. It was a tiny apartment, with the living room and dining area visible from the front door, along with an even tinier kitchen. There was a short hallway to the bathroom and bedroom, and that, too, had a bookshelf crammed in, covered with boxes and clear bins of gears, nuts, bolts and other building supplies.

Anders took a couple steps in before he looked around the apartment. Then, he stopped in his tracks. Then, he had to laugh. This was exactly how he imagined the house of an inventor to look like. “Wow, Tink. This is amazing. I can’t wait to see what you’ve done with the microwave.”

He went to look at one of the devices closer. “This is much more interesting than my apartment.” He almost wanted to break into that song from Nightmare Before Christmas - what’s this, what’s this? - but he refrained. “What does this do?” he asked.

Tink went really pink when he commented on her place. She couldn’t help but feel relieved, giving a smile to her friend. “Yeah?” She watched him come close to one of her shelves, and gave a little “ah” as she moved closer, too. “This one’s a perfect soft-boiled egg cooker,” she said, opening the top to show where the egg was supposed to go--in a cup on the inside. “It actually uses steam to cook the egg instead of water, so… I don’t know. I made it for my dad for Father’s Day, but I need to calibrate it a bit better.”

Tink took hold of his hand and pulled him into the small kitchenette. “Here’s my toaster… look look…” She took a piece of bread and put it in. “And the microwave’s here. It’ll hear the pops from the popcorn bag, and know exactly when to stop. But that’s kinda common in microwaves now. I should have patented the tech. Or tried, anyway.” She was getting a little babbley now.

The toast popped up. It had Kermit the Frog’s face in a toasted design on the side.

If Anders hadn't already been smiling when Tink took his hand, he definitely would be then. As it was, he was glad that he hadn't really given anything away.

"That's a common feature in microwaves?" Anders asked. "I clearly need to get a new microwave."

When the toast popped up, he laughed. "That's very cool! How do you come up with all of this stuff?"

“I added a pretty sensitive sensor,” Tink admitted. “I don’t know if the newer microwaves have those? Or if they’re just timed? My brother’s microwave does pretty well with a pack of microwave popcorn. But mine’s a lot more… it’s got some other features, too.” It had a far more extensive control panel, for starters.

“I don’t know. I just… do.” Tink blushed, smiling. “Can I get you something to drink?”

He took a look at the control panel. It certainly looked complicated. He lived almost exclusively on microwaved dinners. It would probably be handy to have a super sensitive microwave that knew when things when cooked.

"I'd love something to drink," then he grinned. "I mean, not as much as Saturday, but a drink. So, what's this movie about? I assume singing and Evil?"

“A drink it is,” Tink said, smiling softly. She couldn’t believe he was in her house. And sounded impressed by her things. It was all a very positive experience so far. When she’d had so many crappy weeks lately, this was a nice change.

“Oh, yeah. Well, it’s only forty-five minutes long. It’s about… well, it’s a... “ She frowned a bit, moving to the fridge to pull out a couple of hard ciders. “...it’s a villain origin story.” That’s about all she could say without giving away too much. She held out one of the ciders to him, then twisted the top off her own.

Anders twisted the top off of his bottle as well. “A villain origin story, huh?” Anders didn’t really see much interest in villains, if he was completely honest. Once he had started becoming interested in politics, and fighting for people’s rights in his early twenties, he had found that his taste in characters had been pretty strictly on the side of Good. Bad guys were bad guys, and they could be as interesting as writers wanted to make them - they were still bad, and Anders had a pretty strong aversion to bad guys. Which was ironic, really, considering…

But Tink seemed to really like this movie, and Anders liked Tink, so he figured he’d give it a shot. The worst that would happen would be that he had to sit through forty-five minutes of a movie he didn’t particularly enjoy next to a pretty girl. “It sounds like it could be interesting. Only forty-five minutes though?”

“Well, it was originally released in three fifteen minute parts. You’ll see.” She put the popcorn into the microwave and pressed a button. It came to life, whirring and the plate inside spinning. Then Tink took hold of Anders’ hand again to drag him off into the living room.

She had a very comfortable-looking, overstuffed, three-cushion sofa in there. Hanging above it on the left hand side was a set of metal baskets with a pulley system, so the remote controls contained within would be always available and (hopefully) never get lost. Tink released his hand, moved to the sofa to sit, and grabbed a remote control out to put the movie on.

The corners of Anders’ lips curled up just slightly when she took his hand again. His eyes lingered on the remote pully system as he sat down close to Tink. Not too closely, but definitely closer than was strictly necessary.

The couch was very comfortable, and he sunk down into it happily. The only couches he had sat on the last year or so were the incredibly uncomfortable ones in the break rooms at his jobs. “Ahhh,” he sighed as he got comfortable. This was definitely better than watching a movie on his old mattress. He wished his apartment was bigger so he could get a couch just like this.

He took a sip of his cider. “This is a great couch.”

“Thanks,” Tink said to him. “It was a present from my brothers when I moved out on my own for the first time.” She grinned, then settled back against the pillows with her drink and her remote. She could do everything from the one remote, which had some extra parts attached. There was a bit of duct tape holding the whole thing together.

Her shoulder brushed against his as she settled back.

“Here goes.” She beamed brightly as she turned on the show. The sounds of the popcorn popping could faintly be heard over the opening music to the show. Then Neil Patrick Harris appeared, practicing his evil laugh.

Tink’s grin was so wide it almost hurt.

Anders moved his arm around to the back of the couch behind Tink. Purely in the interest of comfort. The laugh amused him. It was pretty over the top. He looked at Tink through the corner of his eye, not moving his head to do so, and had to smile at her grin.

“Wow. Sarcasm. That’s original.” Anders snorted. Okay, maybe this would be an villain story he could get behind. And then Dr. Horrible started talking about destroying the status quo, and Anders realized he could relate to him pretty well.

Tink wasn’t the kind of girl to watch someone’s reactions while she was sharing something she loved. She paid most attention to the show, and not to what Anders was doing. Though if she was being completely honest with herself, the way his shoulder was brushing against hers gently on the sofa made her heart thunder.

Then Billy started singing. And Tink mouthed the words along with the song. Full-on acting mode, complete with shrugging and head turning.

When Tink started moving, Anders turned away from the movie to watch her. He grinned. She was awfully cute. “You know this movie pretty well,” he observed.

And then. “Ugh. Moist. It’s a terrible word, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Tink responded, sheepishly. “It’s… one of my favorites. Sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you.”

She snorted softly. “Seriously.” Bad Horse! He’ll make you his mare!

“Don’t be sorry,” Anders said. “I think it’s cute.”

He glanced towards the kitchen. “I think the popcorn’s ready. Would you like me to go get it?”

Tink flushed when he said it was cute. She couldn’t help the sheepish smile on her lips. Then she perked up a little. “No no, you watch this part. Captain Hammer.” She grinned, popping up from the sofa. “I’ll get it. You want another cider?” She was already half-way to the kitchen to get a bowl for the popcorn, and more drinks if they wanted them.

Anders took a look at his drink. “Yeah, I could probably do with another,” he said. He still had a fair amount left, but if he got a refill now, it meant that no one would have to get up again in the movie. “Thank you.”

He was enjoying the movie a lot more than he had expected to. He definitely agreed with Dr. Horrible’s stance of treating the causes, not the symptoms (though, obviously treating the symptoms was important as well), and that there needed to be a large system overhaul.

Lacy, gently wafting curtains. Ha ha. What a douchebag.

Well, yeah. Cutting off the head of the human race like the head of a fish wasn’t a perfect metaphor, but Tink agreed. Things were broken. She just had no idea how to fix them. Not like a broken tv or whatever.

She came back in a moment later with popcorn and more drinks, and settled back down onto the sofa. She was a little closer than when she’d left, settling the bowl in her lap.

“Balls. That’s my favorite line.” She held out his cider to him.

Anders smiled a little bit to himself when she sat closer. “It’s a pretty good line,” Anders admitted. He took the cider from her with a thank you, set it down near him, and then grabbed a handful of popcorn.

There were certainly worse ways he could be spending his evening.

Tink honestly couldn’t think of a way she’d rather spend this evening. Popcorn, cider, Dr. Horrible and Anders made for a wonderful night. She spent some time trying to stop herself singing along, but finally gave that up. She had a nice voice, and she hit the notes properly. Most of them. The ones in her vocal range, anyway.

She got a little giddy at “So they say,” and found herself bumping her shoulder playfully into his. Maybe it was the cider. She finished her first bottle, set it aside, and started on the second one.

When Tink started singing, he found himself turning away from the movie, and watching her with a soft expression on his face instead.

Oh no. He liked this girl. He really liked this girl. He quietly removed his arm from the back of the couch, finished his cider, and under the pretext of reaching for his other one, he scootched a bit away from her. Playful flirting was fine, and if he was just planning on fooling around with someone, he’d be fine with that. But he really liked her.

“This Captain Hammer guy is a tool,” Anders said, and smirked a little at his own pun.

"Isn't he?" Tink got the pun. It made her happy. "Coprorate Tool," she added, quoting the film.

The good thing about being Tink is she had enough social awkwardness to not really notice that he withdrew. It wasn't until she reached for some popcorn that she realized the bowl was now sitting between them on the sofa. Hmm.

Then the death ray exploded, and Tink's expression changed dramatically. She got sad and quiet.

Anders was fairly amused to watch Captain Hammer writhing on the ground. But then the camera panned over to Penny. “No,” he whispered quietly. He had liked Penny.

He grabbed another handful of popcorn, and washed it down with cider. “That’s just not fair,” he said. Granted, he knew that life wasn’t fair. But he wished it had been Captain Hammer.

Tink was focused on her cider. But the next song was really good. She sang along, until “a thing.” at the very end. There were tears welling up in her eyes and her nose was burning a little. Silly reaction to something she’d seen a hundred times, but she couldn’t help herself. It was powerful.

“Joss Whedon is an incredible storyteller,” she said when the credits started, lifting a hand to wipe at her face.

“Yeah,” Anders said. “I liked that more than I thought I would. I’ll be honest, when you said it was a villain origin story, I didn’t think I would like it much.” She was crying. That was kind of cute, too.

“It’s a pity it was so short.” He cleared his throat, and finished his cider. “I should uh… probably go.” He didn’t necessarily want to. He wanted to stay around and hang out a bit longer.

Tink gave a little laugh. “Yeah, I know. I probably didn’t sell it right… but I’m glad you liked it.” She turned to look at him, and something in her stomach jolted slightly when he said he should go. A tiny jolt. She didn’t want him to go. “Oh. Yeah. Sure. It’s getting late?” Was it getting late? She looked disappointed at the words, but was trying to hide it. “I mean, unless you want some nachos, or something…?”

Anders smiled. “You have nachos? I’m always down for nachos,” he said. There was no harm in talking and eating nachos.

“Hey, so, these dreams that everyone seems to be having. Have you had them too?” he asked.

Tink pulled herself up from the sofa and motioned for him to follow her to the kitchen. She could use the microwave--which was part convection oven--to make the nachos. There was shredded cheeses in the fridge, and a bag of corn tortilla chips on the counter. She started to prepare food while considering how to answer his question.

“Where do you think my wings came from?” She asked, not sarcastically. But she was curious. He believed she had them--he’d seen with his own eyes, stitched with his own fingers.

“Huh.” Anders said, considering. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t really think much about where they came from. I guess people have mentioned having powers from their dreams, but they’ve given me nothing but headaches - and I mean that literally, not figuratively.”

He frowned. “I guess I don’t really know what I’m asking here. For a while, I just thought that they were dreams, and then I find out that everyone gets them. And that some people dream of the same place where I’m from, which just seems strange. What are they like for you?”

“I’m sorry that you’re getting headaches,” Tink said, frowning, as she sprinkled the cheese over the chips on the tray. “I mean… I haven’t had bad things happen… not the way I’ve heard other people. There’s a gal I knew who woke up and her skin was pink. And people get magic powers and stuff… all I have are wings and pixie dust.” She paused. “But you already knew that.”

She put the tray in the microwave oven and hit a button. “I’m a fairy in mine. A six inch tall pixie who lives in Pixie Hollow and makes stuff out of lost items, rocks, nuts and vegetation. I’m a Tinker. Which kinda makes sense, considering my name’s Tink.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that bad things haven’t happened in your dreams,” he said, smiling. He blinked at the mention of pink skin. “Well, I hope I don’t end up with pink skin. Dream me doesn’t seem very pink though. I think it would be fun if I ended up developing magic though.

“In mine, I’m a mage, which is apparently a Very Bad thing. You get locked in a tower for your whole life, where there are these people called Templars, and if you try to escape they hunt you down and drag you back.” He had never dealt with Templars - at least, not in real life - but he already hated them.

“Thanks.” Tink said, softly. “It’s a pretty rare case where people end up with ridiculous bodily transformations like wings or pink skin. I doubt you’ll join the club.” She hoped, anyway. She liked his skin the way it was.

“I hope you get your magic, too,” she agreed with a nod. Tink turned and leaned back against the counter, folding her arms across her stomach. Her wings shifted so they wouldn’t get squished between her body and the counter, sliding out of the slits in her shirt and shedding some golden pixie dust all over as they moved. “So… you’re a prisoner? In your dreams?”

Anders nodded. “Some people don’t seem to see it as much. A few of the mages seem to even enjoy it. And it’s not a prison like our prisons are - we have full run of the first two floors of the tower, and there’s a huge library with a ton of books. I’ve dreamed that I’ve escaped five times so far, but I have the impression that those aren’t the first times I’ve tried to run away?” He shrugged. “They keep have a vial of your blood that they use to track you down if you escape, so I never escape for long.”

There was the whole year of solitary confinement too. It wasn’t right. He opened his mouth to say that it wasn’t all bad; that they had always sent the same good looking female Templar to come whisk him back to the tower, but he quickly snapped it shut. The woman had always glared ahead in stony silence and didn’t respond to his jokes, but even still, Tink didn’t need to hear about that.

“At least it was kind of like an adventure though!”

Tink wished she could give him a hug. It felt like he needed it this time. But that would be like, breaking some sort of unspoken rule. They were friends, sure. But they weren’t the touchy-feely kind. (Tink didn’t have any of those kind of friends anymore. Actually, she was too awkward to be huggy with someone she wasn’t… y’know… involved with.)

“Adventures are good!” Tink said, nodding and smiling hopefully. It was contagious, right? The microwave beeped, startling her. She jumped, and another little shower of dust fell from her wings to the counter behind her.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk about the dreams anymore. He knew he had brought it up, but he kind of felt like he was bringing down the mood. He kept trying to think of good things that happened during his dreams, the silver lining to the dark cloud that he was always so good at finding, but they all involved other women and he felt kind of weird about bringing that up around Tink. Even if they were just dream women, and even if he didn’t intend to pursue his feelings for her.

He laughed when she jumped. “Where does all that pixie dust come from?” he asked as he watched it rain down onto the counter. It seemed like a good change of topic, and he was curious.

Tink cleared her throat, feeling a little sheepish that she was startled by her own machine. She grinned, pink on her cheeks. “...depends on the dream. In some of my dreams I make it. It’s like a pheromone or something. Something that I produce without… consciously doing so. And in some of my Dreams it’s something that fairies harvest. It comes from the right kind of moonlight hitting the Pixie Dust Tree at the right place at the right time?” Sometimes she wasn’t even sure. “And in other dreams it comes from… diamond mines, or something.”

It sounded far more complicated than it was. Tink moved forward to the microwave, then brought the plate of nachos to the counter. She blew and the pixie dust went scattering away, much like glitter fallen after a kids’ arts and crafts project. She set the nachos down.

“In my dreams they can make other people fly.” She added. Neal never wanted to fly. He didn’t like magic. She’d flown once with another friend, but he moved away. Flying had become a solitary thing for her, and she couldn’t do it anymore.

It seemed weird that the dust came from different places depending on the dream. Very strange. Anders tried not to think about it too much.

“Only in your dreams?” Anders asked. “I would love to go flying. Once your wing is better, of course.” He assumed that her wing would, someday, get better. It had to. He was a doctor, and he was supposed to remain practical about these things, trying not to get people’s hopes up too high in case things didn’t work out. But he refused to believe that Tink wouldn’t fly again. Flying sounded as though it would be wonderfully freeing.

Tink shook her head. “In this world, too. I’ve only brought one other person flying with me here, though.” She admitted, going pink again. “And once my wing is better… I’d love to take you. If you really want to go. You don’t have to say you do just to be polite, or anything.” She added, not wanting to box him in to something he really wasn’t interested in. But the moment she said it she regretted saying it.

She reached forward to start in on the nachos, feeling like she needed to stick something other than her foot in there.

Anders grabbed a few nachos as well. "Mm. I've never thought of making nachos at home," he admitted. "I should give it a shot sometime.

"Tink, of course I'd want to go flying with you. Why would anyone not?" He grinned at her. "I guess you probably don't know this about me, but I'm all having as much freedom as possible in this world. Flying seems like one of the ultimate ways to achieve that. Will I get wings to?"

Tink nodded, mouth full of chips and cheese. Delish. She would have responded, but she didn’t want to be rude. She swallowed hard, then reached for her cider, which was almost empty. She was a little warm and fuzzy, but nowhere near as drunk as she’d been at the billiard bar.

“I dunno, fear of heights?” She offered, breaking into a grin. The idea that he wanted to come flying with her made her heart race a little. “As soon as my wings are healed, we’ll go. No, you won’t get wings, you just need to be covered in pixie dust.”

Anders couldn’t keep the grin off of his face. He was going to go flying. He had never even imagined such a thing was possible, but now that the idea was out there, he was positively giddy about it. The ultimate freedom. “It’s a date then,” he said. “Once your wings are healed, we’ll take to the skies.”