burntcopper | fic : Son of Fabulous

repost part deux

Part Two, Son of Fabulous :

[Jai and Thom are poking around the apartment.]

Jai, looking at pictures of the Titans (out of costume) : I think he has a rule about only being friends with pretty people.
Thom shoves the photo album over : That's not as bad as the mullet from hell.
Kyan : Did I hear the word mullet?
Thom, shaking his head and turning the album round for Kyle : It's a deeply scary one.
Kyan yelps, then swallows : There are no words.
Dick, coming round the corner, rubbing his butt : As a police officer, I think I can get Carson on assaulting an officer of the law.
Thom : He pinched your butt? We all want to do that. We're just restraining ourselves for later.
Dick : Oh god. You're looking at the mullet pictures, right? I saw the light! It got cut off!
Kyan : That is the only reason you have been saved from Fashion Reject Hell. As it is, we still have work to do. You really have no idea about caring for your hair or what to do with it, do you?
Dick : Normally I just wash and go.
Kyan, narrowing his eyes : The mullet only went due to a tragic accident, didn't it? Did it accidentally catch fire?
Dick : Um, no, it kinda got sliced off.
Kyan : See what I have to work with?

Carson : Laura Ashley called and she wants her spring collection back! Flowered shirts? They're not even kooky!
Dick, lying through his teeth : They're a friend's. The red-head with the shades in the photos. From when he was going through a deeply tragic phase. In a band. Called Great Frog.
Carson : Lie all you want, sweetheart, we know the truth. Though the red-head is cute.
[Carson picks up a pair of spotted boxers from the floor]
These are not our friends. They do not do justice to your butt in any way, shape or form. I know guys who would kill to have an ass that good, and you're traumatising it! These loose khakis you have too many pairs of are traumatising it, too. Nice quality, *so* the wrong fit for you. We want to show you off.
Dick : Does that mean any more butt-pinching?
Carson : Pinching is a mark of respect, young man. Now help me reach that shelf.
[Dick swings up, starts handing boxes down. Carson ogles the muscle-play.]
I just love a man who's helpful around the house. And remember, just as you don't want to hide the goods, you don't want to leave absolutely no secrets either. A little mystery always helps. What was with those skin-tight jeans I found?
Dick : I, er, they're...
Carson, waving a hand to cut him off : Say no more. Your crime hangs in the air like a bad aura. Now, you've got a thing for solids, which is good. It helps define your physique. We won't be setting a fabulously designer-clad foot near patterns, because patterns clearly take you to a bad place, so we'll mostly be focussing on cut and style. Clean, simple lines, nothing fussy that would distract from the cut.

Thom : Tell me, when was the last time you decorated? No, don't even answer that, because the bare brick wall speaks for itself. It just screams style no-go.
Dick : I've been kinda busy since I moved in here.
Thom, tutting : I have heard that excuse far too many times. This room is dark, has no redeeming features, and would it kill you to have furniture in here beyond an old sofa? It looks like a bat-cave.
Dick : Does claiming the dichotomy of growing up at first in a tiny caravan and then a big echoey mansion help?
Thom : Stop evading. It doesn't help. I'm seeing lighting - uplighters in the corners would really help to add to the impression of space, and plants bring in a real freshness vibe, which will help to distract from the industrial tones. We'll have to do something about the brick, of course. More furniture and do something about that sofa.
Dick : It's comfy!
Thom : There are no springs. This is a bad sign in sofa-life.

[At the salon.]
Kyan : See, the occasional deep-cleanse does wonders for the quality of your skin. You've been coasting by on the fact that you're good-looking enough for it not to affect your social life, but a decent skin regime lifts and plumps, giving its poor self a much-needed present.
Dick : This is the point where the eyebrow waxing comes in, doesn't it? Because waxing *hurts*, I don't care what body part you do it on.
Kyan : Nope, you're spared that. Mother Nature has been kind. What did you wax?
Dick : It wasn't voluntary.
Kyan : This sounds interesting.
[Kyan runs a finger down Dick's collarbone.]
What I want to know is where you picked up all these fascinating scars. Is police work really that dangerous?
Dick, shrugging : I'm kind of accident prone. Tarmac and bicycle wheels hold special childhood trauma for me, and they're just the tip of the iceberg.

Ted : Okay, do you know anything about food? At all?
Dick : I can cook.
Ted, narrowing his eyes : The words 'microwave' and 'pizza company on speed dial' will not enter into this conversation.
Dick : Well, I picked some tips up from Alfred, our butler, and he's a really good cook. So yeah, I can cook.
Ted, not entirely convinced : What I'm going to do is show you that there is in fact life outside the speed dial. It is in fact faster, easier, and cheaper to eat significantly better than you already are. You will be trained. Do not gather the impression you have any say in this.
Dick : That's what Kyan told me. I'm going to worry now.