Author's Note: Hello, everyone. I've been horribly ill for the last few days and it feels like my stomach's trying to burst out of my stomach. Coupled with watching the show recently on LOGO and reading through The DT Files (which are full of WIN) and my muses are craving Daria/Trent goodness. It's best to do what they want. There aren't any outright spoilers but this is set after everything and during Quinn's graduation (she would get out of high school eventually).
WARNING: OOCness may be present in portions of this little ditty (especially the naked part). I'm not sure what to think about some of what's in here but it sounded good in my head. I don't know. I hope you guys still enjoy the story, though.
Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"
"You're actually going to Quinn's graduation? Didn't she tell everyone that you were her cousin or something else along those bitchy lines?" Jane Lane asked between flicks of her paintbrush.
"Yeah but I never expected her to graduate this side of the Zombie Apocalypse. I'm actually proud of her and besides, if I go to this joyous family event, I can get out of the next 12." Daria Morgandorffer replied sagely as she tightened the last of the cords holding her suitcase together.
She was actually going to stay in Lawndale for the 4 day weekend, not just the Commencement ceremony on Friday. When she asked herself why, Daria really couldn't figure out a solid reason. Closure? No. After the last visit, she had made sure to leave no unfinished business. Acceptance by the sheep like masses left behind? Hell, no. If she had spent all her time at Lawndale High not giving a rat's ass what they thought, then why would she care now that she was an alumnus?
"Well, Casa Lane is always Casa Daria Morgandorffer. The only person there is Trent and that's not very often since he started going to college."
She looked up with surprise and asked, "Trent's going to college?"
"Mm-hm. He's taking Accounting classes at Lawndale Comm. so he can keep track of the Spiral's finances better. It's a good idea. I mean most of the embezzling/robbery goes down after the first big single and they've managed to get 4 in the last year and a half. Every record label Jabberjaw's looking to take a bite out of them."
All of that was true. Gone were the days of Icebox Woman and forced, ear twisting rhymes. Someone in the Spiral had finally learned how to write coherent, catchy lyrics and now, one couldn't turn on an Eastern Seaboard alternative station without hearing at least 2 of their smashes in an hour. They had also been on the cover of Indie Underground 5 months before and Daria had been struck by how different Trent looked.
Even in the black and white photo, she could see a wide awake and determined man, ready to grab his dream by the balls or have his ripped off in the valiant attempt.
Daria still had the cover photo and the article in a shoebox deep in the back of her closet.
The last thing she wanted was for Jane to find it and truly restart her Yentaing. After they had fully gotten past their mutual bad judgment with Tom Sloane, Jane had been dropping little hints about Trent 2.0, as she had dubbed him. She kept saying how driven he had become, how he took to leadership like a cheerleader to speed, how he was so committed to his causes that he stayed single, even when Monique showed back up to start something again…
A sledgehammer to the forehead would've been more subtle but the hints had provided her with some food for thought. Contrary to popular belief (sans Jane), her crush/obsession/maybe love on Trent had never truly died. It had just been kicked back into her subconscious, never to be acknowledged by her again unless she was completely and totally blitzed, something that she had yet to accomplish during her time at Raft.
Judging by the usual amount of mayhem that went down when Lawndale decided to have a celebration and Quinn's…Quinn-ness, Daria was pretty sure that she'd be losing her "blitzed cherry" before the end of the weekend.
Or she'd just kill someone. Time would tell.
/
"Dude, you need to calm the fuck down. It's just Daria."
"Fuck off, Jesse. It's different and you know it."
"Ah, yes. She's your Mystik Muse. You know you do realize that when she eventually connects the dots, we're gonna have to fork over some royalties to her, right?"
"Of course I do. Why else do you think I'm taking all those boring as shit classes? We gotta have royalties to give her. Hand me the comet cleanser."
"Jesus Christ, man! First you learn how to write music, then you ditch the narcoleptic shit, then you start colleging like a normal human being, and now, you're cleaning? I'm about to call Sick, Sad World on your ass!" Jesse Moreno exclaimed between laughs.
"Go ahead. Janey's probably beaten you to it.", Trent Lane chuckled as he finally got rid of the mystery red stain in the refrigerator. Hmm…so it was strawberry syrup…
Jane had called 3 weeks ago and told him that she had invited Daria to crash at Casa Lane so she could go see her sister graduate. Trent had proceeded to ask (rather stupidly) just who Daria's sister was and it had taken a half hour to get her to stop laughing. Okay, so he had a bad memory from time to time. Big deal. Everybody had problems and honestly, Queen… Quinoa…Quinto…Quincy was pretty forgettable. Sure, she was halfway pretty but she was shallower than a damned kiddie pool and the only reason Trent even vaguely remembered her was because of the squeaky whine of her voice and the oh-so special way she had turned him down for a date that he hadn't even asked for. How Daria had endured all the years with her without killing her was amazing.
Hell, just about everything Daria did was amazing in his eyes, leading to his current states of Mr. Clean and Mr. Fix It.
If there was a hole, a crack, or a stain, Trent had found it and fixed it with the aid of Home Depot, Dollarz for Dayz, and a shitload of Spiral related blackmail. Honestly, Casa Lane hadn't looked this nice since…since…well, it was before Wind fucked up his first marriage, he knew that was for sure! He had also shaved and gotten his hair cut and took more than one shower a week…
"Ah, hell. I am freaking the fuck out." Trent groaned as he chucked the rag into the sink and took to putting away the groceries that he had actually bought.
"No worries, man. The girl turned woman you've had a quiet boner for's coming home. And since Preppy Fielding Fucker's out the picture, you might have a shot in hell with her. She's not seeing anyone."
"How do you know?"
"Uh…well, me and Jane have been like um…pen pals and like…long distance together? You're not gonna hit me with your guitar like last time, are you? Because that really fuckin' hurt…"
"I only hit you because you fucked it up and it led to Tom goddamned Sloane coming around here and breaking her heart and almost ruining her best friendship with Daria."
"Not to mention that the same bastard took your girl."
"She's not my girl."
"Only 'cause you gave up."
"Only 'cause I fucked up.", Trent volleyed back, referencing the infamous multimedia project fiasco. "I couldn't commit to her long enough to give her 30 seconds of crappy music. She decided that we'd never work and at the time, I was right with her. Not to mention that she wasn't legal yet. Max may say we're criminales but when it comes to shit like that, I keep it on the straight and narrow."
"Damn Skippy. We rockers are allergic to the Coppers." Jessie intoned in a perfect Schwarzenegger imitation.
Trent rolled his eyes fondly and tossed him a roll of duct tape and a mallet.
"Go out back and fix the birdbath. Use your imagination."
"Sweet! Mallet!" Jesse whooped before running out like a bat out of hell.
Hopefully there would be half of a birdbath left when he got done.
/
"Are you sure you don't want to stay here, Daria?" Helen Morgandorffer asked for the umpteenth time.
The sounds of "Ohmigod! Ohmigod! Ohmigod!" and the Clueless theme song accented the flat look that Daria gave her mother. Helen just sighed and nodded in silent acknowledgment as she pulled her into a brief hug.
"I guess we should be satisfied that you even showed up."
"As much as Quinn pains me to my very soul, she's still my sister and graduating from high school isn't something someone does every day. Of course I'd be here. Now, when does it start?"
"7PM tomorrow. Do you need a ride there?"
"Mom, I have a car. A car that I drove here and around town, seeing the delightful sights that I know and loathe."
"A simple no would've sufficed. Say goodbye to your father and you're free to go."
Daria sighed and entered the Lions Den…living room and saw Jake Morgandorffer looking shell-shocked on the loveseat. From the looks of things, Quinn and her Fashion Drones had snatched the remote from him and taken over.
"What's the Brain doing here?" Sandi sneered.
"Quinn's my sister, Sandi. Sisters come to each other's graduations."
"I see you're still wearing god-awful clothes." Sandi continued.
"And I still see that you're a raging bitch. Glad to see that some things don't change. I gotta go, Dad."
"O-okay, Daria. Do you need any money?"
"If you're offering…"
Hey, she may be an independent college adult now but free money was free money. Exiting the house, she sighed and got into the driver's seat of her used sedan. Part 1 of family obligation- Done. Now to make semi-coherent small talk with Trent before crashing into a highway inspired coma.
Fun.
/
He sat Indian style on the front lawn, replacing the strings on his guitar. They really didn't need to be yet but it was a way to calm down. Daria had called about 2 hours ago, saying that she'd be there by sundown. The shadows grew longer by the second and Trent could feel his heart rate begin to skyrocket. It was disconcerting. He had a rep for being cool under pressure, some said he was like a Woodstock refugee, but Daria…
God, he really didn't want to screw this up. He had already done it countless times before…
A black sedan pulled into the driveway and Trent looked up through his eyelashes as Daria climbed out of the vehicle. She was dressed in Raft sweats and a black t-shirt. The jacket was still there but it was tied around her waist, probably was used a makeshift cushion for the long drive. She had gotten smaller glasses and her hair was held up by two black chopsticks. Her boots had been swapped out for black sandals and he was struck by just how tiny she was. Was she even 5'1?
She brought her arms above her head and the bottom of a silver hoop could be seen before she tugged the top back into place. She had reopened her piercing, the piercing that he had inspired her to get. Trent felt his jaw clench as she got her suitcase (the sweats clinging desperately to her bent ass) and slammed it next to him before sitting Indian style on top of it. After a couple of minutes, she cleared her throat softly and Trent looked up at her obediently.
"Hey, Trent." she greeted in her semi monotone.
"Hey, Daria. Welcome home."
"Mmph. Thanks for letting me crash here."
"This is your pad, too, Daria. You've been here enough. Want me to get your suitcase? You look like you're about to fall down like a tree."
"I…I don't want to…"
"No, it's cool. Just take my guitar." Trent insisted before thrusting it into her shocked hands.
Her hands naturally went to the right places and she held the guitar like a vase as they walked in. A quiet gasp escaped her and he couldn't help but chuckle (and cough) at the shocked look on her face.
"Is this the right house and dimension? I feel like I'm in the damn Twilight Zone."
"I decided to do some cleaning and repair. The tour doesn't start until October so I needed something to do. Besides, home improvement makes a home's value go up…I think."
"Didn't your parents already pay this place off like 4 kids ago?"
"They did but like I said, I was bored. Come on." he urged gently as he let her go in front of him.
Her eyes darted around, seeing the new paint and the…cleanness of everyone's rooms, including his own.
"You cleaned your lair. Is that a result of boredom, too?"
"Boredom and writer's block. Apparently, doing domestic shit gets rid of it. Go figure. Pick whatever room you want…"
Like mine. The bed is perfect for two…, the ever so helpful Voice in his head leered.
"…and hopefully, I can get dinner cooked in an hour."
"You cook?"
Trent shrugged sheepishly and took his guitar, noting that the wood was damp with sweat from her hands. He decided to take it as a good sign. If he didn't still have some effect on her, then she'd be cool as a cucumber. Well, she was but there was wariness in her body language, along with a heaping helping of curiosity. Good. Curiosity was always a good place to start when it came to relationship stuff…or so he heard. She picked Janey's room and after she set her suitcase down, he made to leave.
Her voice stopped him.
"Did you…you didn't…" she blurted awkwardly with a gesture to the walls, the pink in her cheeks finishing her question for her.
Did you do all this for me?
Yes. From the first real song you pulled out of your ass to actually cleaning, you did it for her. Don't deny it…
His face lit on fire and he wasn't sure if the blush was because of the Voice or because she had figured him out so damn fast…
"Daria, I've been trying to fix this place up since the album first dropped. We want to put a studio in the basement. You coming home…well, it just motivated me to finish faster. Go ahead and crash. I'm making lasagna or spaghetti or…whatever, it's gonna have noodles in it."
A faint smile curved her lips and he swallowed. He had to get gone before he jumped her…
"Sweet dreams, Daria." he said before hurrying out, slamming the door behind him.
How the fuck was he gonna last 3 more days with her being so close?
/
How the hell was she going to last 3 more days with him being so close?
Jane hadn't been kidding when she said that Trent had changed. He was wide awake and in that lucidity, there was a fierce drive that rivaled her mother's in places. Not to mention his eyes were even deeper and she kind of felt like could fall into…oh, no!
Picking up the phone, she dialed Jane and waited impatiently for her to pick up, pacing like a caged lioness.
"Yo."
"I need you to come to Lawndale and make sure that I don't do anything stupid."
"Like what?"
"Like your brother." Daria replied without thinking, slapping a hand over her mouth with her long unused mortified squeak as Jane howled.
"Ah, so Trent 2.0 is even more to your liking than the original. I've always thought you'd be a fabulous in law…"
"Damn it, Jane! This isn't funny! I know that you told me he was different but I didn't expect him to be so…"
"You didn't expect him to be such a perfect blend of the old him you fell for and this improved creature that's chipping away at your ivory tower. You didn't expect him to be so coherent and genuine, so completely unlike He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…"
"Remind me to burn your Harry Potter books when I get home. You know that he's not gonna get with Hermione in favor of the cliché of that stupid redheaded snake charmer chick…"
"La, la, la, la, la…I can't hear you…and you're changing the subject away what's truly important! He's not Tom, he's Trent and he's not the flaky slacker that you've gotten used to and put in a box in that big ol' brain of yours...and you're scared shitless."
"I'm not scared! Just…surprised and confused. Did you know he could cook and that he fixed Casa Lane? It looks like Trading Spaces threw up in here…"
"No and yes, in that order. He mentioned something about a studio in the basement and increased property values, whatever the hell that means. As for cooking, well, I hope you have some Pepto..."
"I don't think I'll need it. Whatever he's concocting smells very good. Better than college slop, anyway. So, yeah. I need you down here, STAT."
"No can do, Amiga. I've got a portfolio to finish and with you out and about, I've taken up entertaining."
"If you and Jessie sweat out your fever in my bed, I would appreciate it if you burned it afterwards. I hate you."
"No, you don't. Look, just go with it, okay? It's normal for a 19 ½ year old woman to have romantic feelings. Besides, Trent might not even feel the same way…"
"Ummm…"
"Dear God, did he finally tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
"Ummm…"
"Jane. Tell me what? Tell me what it is or I'll spray paint Jane Lane loves Lawndale More than Rainbows on your old locker and I'll publish a certain little story about a certain quarterback…"
"Ohh…that's not fair. I'm the only one that gets to play the dirty blackmail game…"
"Jane!" she barked, letting some Jake Morgandorffer pre-heart attack rage come through.
"Okay, okay! He does! He does feel the same way! He's absolutely nuts for you and he has been since forever! Okay? He accidentally told me the last time I visited and he made me swear on the blood of Van Gogh not to tell you but I guess that doesn't matter anymore and you know their best selling album…that's all for you, baby. He also said that you're his Mystik Muse, whatever the hell that means. Everything from the grunge emo screamo to the acoustic guitar ballads is all for you and about you! Congratulations, Ms. Morgandorffer! You've won the Publishing Clearing House Sweepstakes for Trent Lane's heart…wow, that was liberating! I've been holding that in like a garlic belch on the first date with a senator's son…"
Daria stopped pacing and looked at the phone with wide eyes. As her mind chewed on Jane's rant, she could feel her heart go into double and then triple time. She had listened to every track of that album and she had figured out that it was all about a girl but her? Was it really about her? It couldn't be…and he had been into her for a while? If that was true, why didn't he tell her? Why did he push her away and let her do the same to him?
"Daria? Daria, are you dead? You didn't pass out, did you? Oh, jeez, me and my damned big mouth…I've killed and/or concussed my best friend…"
She plopped down onto the bed and brought the phone back to her ear.
"I'm alive and conscious, Jane. And let's say that this stuff's true: Why didn't he say something? If he can howl his inner angst into a microphone in front of a crowd, why couldn't he just tell me that I wasn't pathetic and there was actually something tangible between us?"
"My brother has an idiotic noble streak the size of Texas, that's why. He thought he wasn't good enough for you, not mention the legal issues. He's been into you almost from the start and by the time you were legal, you and me got sucked up into the dark black hole that was Tom Sloane, breaking his poor little rocker heart. He used the album like a catharsis. Hey, that means you can get royalties!"
"Never mind the potential windfall. Where'd you get your Intel, Lane? Trent doesn't seem like the let all your emotions hang out on the clothesline O'Neill type…"
"Not when he's sober. Get him drunk and he'll tell you anything you want to know."
"You interrogated your drunken brother about me? What a waste of an interrogation."
"Not really. So, yeah. Now, you know. What're you gonna do about it?"
"I have no idea. I came down here to see Quinn escape the clutches of Lawndale High, not for this."
"They always say that the road to hell is paved with good intentions."
"Why is it that you always do more harm than good when it comes to shit like this?"
"I'm your sister. It's my job to make things worse than they already are."
/
Trent didn't know whether to kill Jane for telling her or himself for eavesdropping.
Dinner was ready but he didn't want to go up and wake her. Seeing her awake and beautiful was hell enough on his control. Seeing her all half asleep and kittenish would blow everything out of the water. So, he decided to take a leaf out of a hotel's book and do a wake up call on her cell. And then, he hadn't hung up when he realized that she had sent up the Jane Signal for reinforcements. Eavesdropping was a very, very bad thing to do but it had cleared up some things.
1) She at one time or even now was as into him as he to her, B) She was very good at the dirty blackmail game, something that amused and horrified him, and 4) He really did have a shot. The Great Gods of Rock and plain old God had given him another chance to get it right with Daria Morgandorffer and he was determined not to piss it away.
Giving her a few more minutes to talk to Janey, Trent put a loaded plate onto a tray, along with a glass of wine and headed upstairs. Stopping at Jane's door, he gently nudged it open and Daria looked at him with pink cheeks. God, he had missed that pink…
"Jane, I gotta go. My manservant has brought me sustenance…no…no….shut up, Jane! Yeah, I'll tell him….all right, I'll talk to you later…bye. Jane says hi."
"And I say hi back. Here you go. It started as casserole but evolved into a cross between alfredo and lasagna. It won't kill you. I tested it on Jesse before he left."
"He was here?"
"Yeah, in the basement. He says hi by the way and he'll make sure that he and Janey leave your bed alone, whatever that means."
"You know what it means." she pointed out with a sardonic smirk.
"I don't want to think about it. As far as I'm concerned, Janey's always gonna be the seven year old that used shaving cream and chocolate sauce to make her first splatter art. I'm...uh, I'm gonna be in the basement if you need me. I've got a couple of pages of math to slog through."
"You don't have to be in the basement to do that. I…well, I'm pretty decent at math and if you give some problems, I can do them. It'll get done faster and you can do whatever you need to for the Spiral."
"You'd do that for me?"
"Consider it payment for the room."
"I already said that you don't have to pay or thank me for crashing here. This is your pad, too, Daria. But, yeah…I'd appreciate the help. I'll be back in a few minutes."
What the hell did I just do? I'm supposed to be keeping my distance, not coming closer!
What for? She already knows exactly what's going on with you. Now, you just need to wait for her to admit it and get a response.
And if the response is bad?
Then, you can use the renewed rocker heartbreak and come up with enough material for the next two albums. It's win-win.
Not really. There's the matter of the broken heart shit to consider…
True. Well, without pain, there wouldn't be pleasure. Now, go and get your shit, man. You've got yourself a study date. How retro of you…
Sometimes he wished the Voice in his head was real enough to punch and not just argue with.
/
What the hell did I just do? What the hell did I just do? How am I supposed to…?
Overanalyze and rationalize your feelings away if he's right near you? You can't. That's the point. Might I suggest slipping into something a little more…comfortable?
I'm comfortable the way I am, thank you. I'm in sweats and a t-shirt.
You're being dense on purpose, Daria and I don't appreciate it. By comfortable, I mean that naughty nightie Jane bought for you as a gag gift. It's good for more than enduring balmy summer nights, by the way…
I'm not gonna throw myself at Trent!
Why not? He loves you, doesn't he?
According to the words of a secondhand source.
A very reliable secondhand source! After all her past meddling and twisted matchmaking, do you really think Jane would lie to you about something this big? Or in general? She's your best and only friend for Christ's sake! Come on, I know you want to touch him. Just a little touch…
Wanting to touch him was not the problem. Keeping control while touching him was where the rub was. He was still long and lanky but there were some muscles on him, just enough to satisfy even a woman as jaded as she was. Due to the heat, he had on a black under tank and cargo pants, showing off the goods. His hair was longer and there was evidence of soft waves, waves that her fingers itched to tangle up…
"Goddamn it!" she hissed to herself, stabbing at the surprisingly delicious food that he had made her.
She hated feeling like this! All nervous and off kilter! What gave Trent the right to make her like this? What the hell made him so fucking special? A low snarl of rage escaped her and a crimson haze filled her vision. Who the hell decided that he got to have this power over her? How dare they put her in this bind…and how dare he keep his so-called feelings from her? If he was so damn in love with her, then why hadn't he said something or done something to show it?
All reason flew out the window and that was left was the rage and the pain and…
"Daria? Daria, are you…?"
His hand closed around her shoulder and she snapped, shoving him to the ground with an angry yell.
/
For someone so tiny, she could hit harder than a brick and she was a natural scrapper. He didn't want to hurt her but she was damned determined to hurt him, making him wonder why. What had happened in the 5 minutes that he had been gone? Had Jane called again and said something? He hissed in pain as she scratched him and he wrapped an arm around her waist, slamming her to the carpet and winding her. She squirmed underneath him rapidly, trying to break his hold on her but he wasn't budging.
"Leave me alone… make me weak…make me stupid ..." she gasped as anger gave away to tears.
Trent frowned and sat them up so that she was supporting herself on her clenched fists, her body shaking with sobs. Gently, he pulled the chopsticks out of her hair and it tumbled forward in a tangled auburn mass. His fingers went to the tangles and she groaned, seeming to be in pain.
"Don't touch me…makes it even more confusing…" she moaned.
"What?" he asked after she finally stopped shaking and looked at him.
"You and the fact that you've been harboring feelings for me like Ms. Li hoards money from the school district. Jane let it slip on the phone."
"I know. I heard. I was trying to do a wake up call thing and I heard."
She deflated even further and he continued, "She wasn't lying, you know."
"I do know that. What I don't know is why. Why me? Why didn't you say anything? Why did Jane have to tell me and why did you put it in your album?"
"I was a fucking pussy, that's why. Janey said it. And why not you? You're smart and beautiful and far above the girls I've dealt with in the past. Why wouldn't I want you? Why would you want me? I know you did before but that was before that stupid project made you give up."
"Giving up's a two-way street, Trent. You didn't even try to fight for me."
"You didn't want me to. You were so determined to pull everything up by the roots so I didn't bother. I walked away because I thought that would make you happy. Obviously, I was wrong. You and that Sloane idiot proves that and while we're hashing shit out, how could you let him pull you away from Janey so easily?"
She sighed and looked deeply ashamed.
"He wanted me. Not Quinn. Not Britney or some little normal girl. He was the first person who really showed unflaky…well, at the time interest in me and I just wish that I hadn't done what I did to Jane. I stole her boyfriend like a backstabbing Fashion Club bitch and I'm surprised we're still friends…sisters…today."
"It's my fault. If I hadn't walked away…"
"If I hadn't pushed you away….it was a stupid multimedia assignment for a teacher I hated and once Jane pitched the idea of you helping, I figured that it would turn out the way it did. I guess I wanted it to so I could have a reason to get all the stupid feelings for you out of my head. It didn't even work."
"Janey pitched the idea? Huh, no wonder it all went to hell. She was matchmaking badly again."
Her laugh was ragged but still nice and she sighed, rubbing at her eyes, making her shirt ride up enough to show the silver hoop.
"Hey, you're pierced again."
"Oh. I lost a bet with Jane and it was either volunteer at a day care center for a month or reopen it and keep it. I'll take the sting and the itch over a diaper full of toxic waste any day." she replied with a self deprecating tiny smile. "My mom hit the roof but since I'm an adult now, she can't do anything to me. Umm…about trying to beat you to death…"
"You're not the first person to try and it got us unstuck on stupid and talking. I can live with a couple bruises. Did you like dinner?"
"Yeah, it was good. Where's your math? I want to finish it before Sick, Sad World comes on. They're doing a segment on prostitution in wolf packs…"
It was nice to know that some things didn't change.
/
"Um…hey, Daria."
She watched as Tom Sloane sat in the bleachers next to her but said nothing before getting back to reading the program. Of all people, Fashion Club Stacy was the Valedictorian and Fashion Club Tiffany was the Salutatorian. The choir was going to sing "Don't Stop Believin'" and the Band would play Pomp and Circumstance until they all passed out from heatstroke. And now, she was going to have to share a bleacher with her parents, her ex-pilfered boyfriend while thinking about whatever Trent was to her now.
Fun. Joy. Rapture. Someone give her a gun, please…
"Hello, Tom. What are you doing here?"
"My dad had a stroke. I came home to help take care of him and took a job with the paper to help pay the medical bills. I'm covering the graduation. Isn't your sister one of the graduates?"
"Allegedly. I can't say anything without an attorney being present."
Tom chuckled and said, "Witty as always. You look good. Different."
Taking a leaf out of Aunt Amy's book, she had let her hair go wild a little and the humidity had made it into loose curls. She had on an ankle length white cotton skirt and a light pink tank top with white skulls all over it. It was topped by a black zip up hoodie that actually fit her so she actually looked kind of nice. She had kept on her sandals and there was a little pink lip gloss on her lips.
"My sister's graduating and it's hot as hell. My usual attire would result in me getting heatstroke and guilt trips until I'm 80 if I survived it."
"Good point. So, not to sound like a tool but how's Jane?"
"Doing very well. Some frou-frou French guy wants to take a couple of her pieces overseas and she and Jesse are like two slime trails from a snail."
"And you?"
"And me what?"
"How are you doing?"
"4.0 GPA and 2 collections of my short stories have been accepted by a publisher."
"That's not what I meant."
"I know what you meant and I don't feel comfortable discussing anything like that with you."
"Or with anyone else." Tom added with a hint of bitterness.
"I didn't say that. I said just not with you." Daria retorted with a flat glare, silently dismissing him.
He looked like he was going to retort but his eyes flicked behind her and then back, knowing and accusing all at once.
"I see. Hi, Trent."
Daria turned and watched as Trent sat on the other side of her. Instead of all black, he had a slate grey t-shirt with the band's name and logo on it, a pair of cargo shorts, and black Birkenstocks. His hair took flight in the slight breeze and once again, she could feel the itch to touch it, touch him…
"Hey, Bob. Here to see Quincy graduate, too?"
Daria snorted and Tom corrected pissily, "It's Tom and I'm here to see everyone graduate. I'm covering it for the paper."
"Oh, good. I could use a good laugh." Trent replied with a smile that didn't get anywhere near his eyes.
"Play nice, boys. That soda for me?"
"Um, it's half of a soda and you can have it if you want." Trent offered sheepishly, making Tom snort rudely behind her. Ugh, she hated pissing matches…
She accepted it and guzzled it, much to the surprise of both guys. She tossed the empty can into a nearby garbage bag and stood up, offering her left hand.
"Come on, Trent. I need to make sure my mom hasn't killed Ms. Li yet."
A flash of something went through his onyx orbs but he accepted it with typical Lane family easygoingness (sans Penny, Wind, and Summer, of course).
"That would be awesome. The blood on the field would go nicely with all this blue and yellow."
Daria chuckled and chanced a quick look back at Tom as they reached the bottom of the ramp. He looked at her fixedly for a good 30 seconds but with a slow blink, stood up and walked towards the gaggle of alumni, including Britney. She sighed and felt Trent's gaze on her profile.
"You good?"
She looked at him and his bejeweled fingers squeezed hers gently but firmly.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Come on."
/
One good thing about Lawndale High being piss poor academically was that the Commencement ceremony itself only took 45 minutes.
Li being Li, however, decided to host a mandatory voluntary dance to raise money for a statue or another Tommy Sherman tree, Trent wasn't sure. What he was sure of was that he wanted to go home and sleep, preferably with Daria. His narcolepsy was essentially under control but occasionally when he bit off more to do than he could chew, he'd succumb to the lethargy. Plus, he had kind of forgotten to take his medicine…
He was sitting at the top of the main gym's visitor's side bleachers, watching as the graduates and alumni reveled. Spiked punch flowed, cake was eaten, that crazy Britney cheerleader was making out with the little Quarterback that could in a corner (complete with squealing moans), and Quincy was dancing with some blonde guy while two others literally fought for the next turn. Trent shook his head with disgust and let his head rest on the paw of the lion mural.
"Can we talk?" an infuriating voice asked, making him open his eyes to slits.
"I don't have anything to say to you, Bob."
"It's Tom. And I want to know just what's going on between you and Daria."
"I'm not at liberty to discuss such details without a lawyer around. Go get Mrs. M and then I'll answer your question."
"You're not good enough for her!"
"Neither were you. You weren't good enough for Janey, either. Go away."
"I'm not leaving until I get an answer from you, Trent!"
The music stopped and slowly, all attention was directed to the growing argument.
"Look, I'm not talking to you about this. It's none of your business and if you're so damn curious, then why don't you just ask Daria?"
"She won't give me an answer!"
"Then, I'm following her lead on this. Why do you care anyway? You two broke up last year."
"Just because we broke up doesn't mean I can't care about her!"
"I saw the way you were looking at her earlier. You still have feelings for her and you see me as competition. I'm no competition to you."
"So, you two aren't together?"
Did the bastard have to sound so eager? Trent sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, opening his eyes fully.
"That's not what I meant. I meant that there is no competition. Daria can pick whatever lucky son of a bitch she wants to be with herself. If it's you, me, or someone else, it doesn't matter. It's still her choice. Now, go away. I need to rest before I can drive her home."
"Is she staying at her parents' house?"
"I'm not telling you anything. Go talk to Daria or go home."
"She's staying with you, isn't she?
"So what if I am? It's none of your business who I'm staying with or who I'm with in general. We're not together anymore and even if we were Tom, it's still none of your business." Daria demanded with even more frost than usual.
"I'm just trying to protect you! Do you really think that he really cares about you?"
"I know he does. Trent, I want to go home. Can you drive or not?"
"Not.", he mumbled as a crippling headache lanced through his brain.
"Are you drunk?"
"No. Narcoleptic."
Comprehension entered her gaze and she took his keys.
"Can you walk? You're very tall and heavy and I'm…not."
"Yeah. Let's go. Did you get some of that graduation cake?" he asked as they descended the bleachers into the still gawking crowd.
"It's more like crumble now but it's edible. Give me your arm."
He did so immediately and much to his displeasure, Sloane followed them outside.
"Daria!" he barked, making Trent hiss as the sword in his brain twisted.
"Look, I've met and exceeded my quota for dealing peacefully with annoying people today. Trent's in pain and I need to take him home. You need to go back in there or go home. I don't care. We agreed to remain friends after our breakup but if you're going to act like an asshole every 5 seconds, then I don't need to deal with you. Go to hell until you grow up. Lay down in the back, Trent."
He sank into the backseat and soon, they were rolling down the street. The motion didn't make anything worse but it didn't make anything better either.
"Bastard!" she snarled after 10 minutes, punching the shit out of the dash. Being on the receiving end of a punch like that recently, he knew that the dash would be in a world of hurt if it were real…
"Sloane or me?"
"Not you. You're not a bastard. Thank you for respecting my privacy and the fact that I have a functioning brain."
"Quincy's the Morgandorffer daughter with no brains, not you."
"Her name is Quinn, Trent." she chuckled, looking at him in the rear view.
"If a girl ain't you, I don't give them a second thought. We there yet?"
"Almost. Just rest."
Resting was a good idea. A very good idea. Maybe if he played his cards right, he could convince her to rest with him. That'd be nice…
/
"Stay with me…"
As soon as they got home, she gave Trent two Vicodin out of the emergency first kit and helped him to his room. It was actually a nice room. It didn't smell weird anymore and instead of mountains of clothes, there were pyramids of music equipment, textbooks, and full length novels. A dog eared copy of Caesar on the nightstand made her make a small approving hum. She had a feeling that Trent was way smarter than he let on and now she had a little bit more proof.
She had looked away as he stripped down to his boxers but had helped pull the blankets up to his bellybutton. She turned all the lights out and turned on the 4 fans placed strategically around the room. After a while, it would be nice and cool in the room, perfect for getting rid of a migraine.
Daria turned back towards his bed and saw two onyx eyes looking at her beseechingly.
"Stay with me… I want you with me…" he repeated in a sleepy daze.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah...please, Daria?"
She gulped quietly but nodded in acquiesce. He had respected her tonight and the revelation of his true feelings was like a big pink elephant in the room. Maybe doing this would be a good start towards a resolution.
"Let me go change into my pajamas and I'll be back."
Trent nodded and shut his eyes, quickly falling into a light doze. Daria headed to Jane's room and to her open suitcase, trying to find something light to wear. It was 75 degrees outside now since the sunset but it was still pretty humid. Her hand brushed against something satiny and she pulled out the "naughty nightie".
It was a knee length black shift with spaghetti straps and lace around the cleavage. It held tight to the upper torso but flared out towards the knees, giving an upside flower effect if she spun. It was the perfect material for tonight but…she had never worn it while sharing a bed with anyone. And it wasn't just anyone, it was Trent, the same Trent who used an album as a love confession and who wanted her with him…
To hell with it.
She placed the nightie on the bed and started stripping.
/
He felt the mattress shift and he let one eye open, watching as she slipped under the blankets. Her pajamas were completely unexpected, a shift instead of an oversized Mark Twain t-shirt, but highly appreciated. He had been able to detect lush curves on her body even through her armor but seeing them was nice. Very nice…
"Trent? Trent, are you awake?" she whispered with a light poke to his arm.
"Barely. You look nice."
"Uh, thanks. Jane bought it for me as a gag gift but I use it when it gets hot out. By myself, I mean. I've never…"
Trent wrapped an arm around her again and dragged her stiff form over until her head was on his chest. He moved her arms he could wrap his around her and she raised her head, squinting without her glasses.
"What are you doing?"
"Going to sleep." he replied bluntly, already halfway to dreamland.
"You can sleep without me sprawled on you like a rag doll." she pointed out with the same amount of honesty.
"I could but I don't want to. Daria, I'm not gonna take advantage of you…"
"You wouldn't do that. I'm just not used to being this close to someone."
"Do you want me to put you back where you were?"
As soft and sweet smelling as she was, if she wanted to be put back, then he would do it in a heartbeat. He didn't want her to be uncomfortable around him. The seconds before she replied seemed like hours…
"No. No, I want to stay."
"Good. Now, go to sleep."
/
Trent snored like an asthmatic trucker but that wasn't what was keeping her awake. What was keeping her awake was the peace that she felt in his arms. Daria hadn't known peace in her life before. It was always Beavis and Butt-head raising hell and then when Quinn came along…
She had thrown herself into her schoolwork and made her shell to survive. The cocoon was hard and had never been broken before. It had been breached by curious invaders before but she either pushed them out (Tom, Quinn, her parents at times) or let them stay and become a part of it (Jane, Mack, Jodie, Britney and Kevin to a point…). Now, it was in danger of breaking and it was all because of the snoozing bear underneath her.
Daria found that she could get used to this, get used to Trent being in her safe little cocoon and inspiring her to chip away at it. The revelation was…
A quiet gasp left her as he brought her even closer and she found herself straddling him. His hips shifted underneath hers and she could feel warmth begin to tunnel through her body. Her panties dampened and she was certain it wasn't just because of sweat.
Contrary to what people would believe, Daria knew quite a bit about sex and how her body responded to it. Her Melody Powers stories helped her realize what she wanted and liked, as did the tentative late night explorations. It was no coincidence that Trent fit all the criteria for a partner. Pale skin, lean build, dark hair and eyes, and…well from she could feel, he had more than enough to work with.
Tentatively, she ran a hand down his chest, not feeling any hair until right below his bellybutton, his innie bellybutton. Her fingers traced over the smooth skin and she noticed a cluster of giraffe like birthmarks on his left side. Now absorbed by her task, Daria traced each spot and lightly dug her fingertips in, pleased at the definition. His hips shifted again, a little more insistently, and she could feel him hardening.
Instead of shying away, she shifted back tentatively and a low moan escaped his parted lips. His eyes were still shut and moving in REM so she slid up, putting their faces mere inches apart. His lips were a soft shade of pink and parted invitingly and lightly, she stroked a thumb across them.
They're soft, aren't they? Kind of like silk…I bet they'd taste good, too…
Mustering up her courage, she brushed a feather light kiss against them. He was sweet and spicy and she licked her lips before coming back for more. His eyes opened to slivers and he began to kiss back. Emboldened by his acceptance, Daria aggressively deepened the kisses, letting him plunge his tongue deep into her mouth, claiming it. Trent sat up quickly and put her beneath him, looking at her with fevered eyes.
"Tell me to stop!" he growled, sending a flash of molten heat through her body.
Daria tried to make her voice work but she couldn't. She was quivering and her hips kept shifting, instinctively moving toward him. She didn't want to stop, she wanted Trent. She wanted Trent more than anything…
Show him that you want him.
Following her instincts, she sat back up and lowered the straps of her nightgown, clearly showing that she wasn't wearing a bra. His hot mouth descended to the revealed skin and shaky moans left her panting lips. Trent was shaking like a leaf in a storm but his hands were everywhere, cupping, squeezing, stroking, exploring…
Her panties were pulled off and she helped him hike up her shift past her navel. He pressed hungry kisses to the quivering plane of her belly and lightly massaged her inner thighs with his fingers, his fingertips becoming damp from her musk.
"Has anyone touched you like this before, Daria?"
She shook her head negatively and his kisses softened, lingering on her navel. A loud gasp accented the gentle slide of his finger into her burning tightness. Her body clenched around the invader but Trent didn't pull away. With his finger, he stretched her channel, stroking until her barrier stopped him. He looked up into her eyes and she nodded, answering his silent question. His finger withdrew and he sucked it clean, moaning at her taste.
"Do you want me, Daria?"
"Y-yes.", she finally rasped. "Please…"
Her nightgown was chucked across the room and her breasts heaved with each breath as he stripped off his boxers. He was long and thick, making her insides clench at the sight of him. Would he fit inside her? Could he fit inside her?
She was about to find out.
/
His body was screaming at him to get inside her but he ignored it in favor of kissing all over her, his hands stroking her back. Her nipples were pale pink and he spent time with each one, suckling until she mewled at him. His tongue followed a droplet of sweat to her hip and he nipped at the tender flesh there, inhaling the sweet spice calling to him. Trent kissed down to her knees and nibbled at the back of both of them, making her gasp and giggle at the same time. Daria could giggle.
What other noises could she make?
Draping her legs (legs that haunted him) over his shoulders, he gently parted her swollen lips and watched as she opened up to him. Her thighs shook as he pressed a kiss to her opening but her fingers buried themselves in his hair, urging him closer. Who was he to deny her what they both wanted?
She was sweet like honey and very wet, his lips and chin quickly became soaked, but he had no intention of complaining. He licked, he sucked, he nibbled, and she let out a litany of noises, ranging from a serpent like hisses to loud, guttural groans of pleasure.
"Trent…" she whimpered breathlessly as he took her throbbing clit into his mouth, sucking fervently.
His finger slid back into her and he could feel her walls begin to ripple and jerk as he traced circles and spirals onto the hooded nub.
"Let it happen, Daria. Come for me…"
Her back arched like a bow and she cried out as the orgasm washed over her, her hips jerking fitfully against his hungry mouth. Trent drank deeply of her, plunging his tongue inside her to get every last drop of her creams. Daria shuddered and her hands fell from his head to the mattress, grabbing the sheets with white knuckle intensity.
He kissed back up her body and licked his lips clean before kissing her. She responded fully and her nails lightly clawed at his back.
"Are you okay?"
She nodded mutely and drew him even closer to her.
"Do you want to stop?"
"No. I want you inside me."
"Are you sure?"
She dug her nails deep into his back in response.
/
Daria watched as he took a condom out of his bedside drawer and kept breathing as he put it on. She wanted this. She knew she wanted this and Trent wanted her back but the nerves were still there. Trent was not a small man. Him being inside her, all the way inside her was going to hurt no matter how turned on she was. Daria wasn't one for pain, whether it be physical or emotional…
"It's gonna hurt at first."
"I know. I still want you inside me. Just…be gentle."
"I can do that."
He put one hand on the small of her back and used the other to hold her leg up around his waist. Daria wrapped her arms around his shoulders and looked up into his eyes. The back of his right hand caressed her cheek and slowly, tenderly, he entered her. Their eyes remained locked as he slid deeper and deeper inside her, moving through her barrier smoothly. A fiery pain radiated through her lower half but she didn't tell him to stop, even moving to meet him halfway. Eventually, he could move no more and both of them panted for air as they got used to being connected.
After a couple of minutes, Trent moved out an inch and returned, slowly establishing a rhythm. Daria shivered as the pain began to lessen and her hips began to move to their own rhythm, one that complemented his. His eyes drifted shut contently as he started to move a little faster, a little harder. She was moaning with pleasure now, delighting in the feel of him. He pressed more of his weight onto her and she knocked his forearms out of place, putting him all the way on top of her. Trembling lips went to the hollow of her throat and she rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes falling shut as he gave in to his need, moving fiercely inside her.
Finally…oh, god…finally…
A hard shudder racked her form and her eyes snapped open, her climax slamming into her like an 18-wheeler. Her nails drew blood as she held on tight, only one word on her lips as she screamed and screamed…
"Trent!"
His yells joined hers and their fingers twined together, squeezing as he pinned her hands to the pillows. After a couple of minutes, Daria came back to Earth and let out a little grunt as he slipped out of her and collapsed onto his side next to her. His hand blindly hit the mattress until it found her arm and she was pulled back into his arms. His breathing sounded labored and she could feel tears splashing onto her shoulder. With a small frown, she turned and wiped them away, lightly kissing at the salty trails. His fingers went to her face and she was surprised to feel him wipe away her own tears. She couldn't even remember the last time she had cried…
"Wow. That was…" he trailed off, unable to find words for it. She didn't blame him. She could barely come up with her own name let alone the words to describe what they just did together.
It certainly wasn't fucking. It wasn't just sex and lovemaking seemed to be too weak a word for it. It was just…them. The label was vague but it fit nicely, as did his arms around her.
"Trent?"
"Yeah?"
"I think I'm in love with you and I'm not just saying it because we're in bed together." she confessed softly.
He sighed and pressed a kiss to her brow.
"You already how I feel, Daria. Hell, everyone knows. I'm not gonna hurt you and I'm not leaving you without a damn good fight first. I'm fine with whatever you want to do."
She absorbed that and rolled them so she was back on top of him.
"So, if I said that I wanted to attempt to have an actual relationship with you?"
"Then I'd say that I want it too and that I'll make it work or die trying."
A relieved Mona Lisa smile curved her lips and she pressed a kiss to his chest, right above his heart.
"Well, that's good enough for me."
It really was.